Chapter 32

Halfway through the show, on our break, we were downing electrolyte drinks and changing into another set of clothes, when Regan stepped up.

“I got an update from the Nashville PD. Unfortunately, they’ve had no success in tracing the call so far. On the positive side, it appears that this was a one-time thing. There have been no new threats or any hints of anything similar, but we’re keeping a close eye on all comms. Either it’s Dallas or someone saw the news about the assault and figured they”d cause trouble. This doesn”t mean, however, that we”re letting our guard down. Our security status is still on high alert. Unless it”s a scheduled meet and greet with the fans, we’re instituting a ban on outings like clubs where we have less control over the domain and who’s coming near you. If everything is status quo over the next few weeks, then we”ll reconsider our plan.”

“I think we all agree that, for now, we’d rather be safe than sorry,” Holls replied.

“Definitely.” Brodie nodded, while he leaned against his husband.

“Fine with me,” Faise replied.

“Me too,” I added.

I didn’t need to go clubbing anyway. There was only one man I wanted to party with, and he was standing right beside me. We’d have our own private dance as soon as the show was over.

Regan’s earpiece crackled and she tapped on it. “What’s up?... No, I don’t recognize the name…if he’s not on the list, he can’t get in… hold on.” She paused. “There’s someone named Remy Harnett at the venue entrance. Said he’s here to speak to Brodie about opening the next show? Is this for real?”

“Yup,” Brodie replied. “Let him in.”

“Advance warning next time, Brodie.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied to Regan, and she raised one eyebrow. “I’m not being sarcastic. I swear. Not with you. It just totally slipped my mind after the cancelled concert.”

Regan nodded and walked off stage.

“Dee?” Holls turned to him.

“He’s a country singer. Someone Van and I spotted at a local club back home. He’s got a shitload of talent, but he hasn’t been signed to any label yet. He mentioned he was gigging in Florida for the next month so I thought he might want to open one of our concerts.”

“Country?” Faise asked.

“It’s cool to have different opening acts in the upcoming shows. A crossover of sorts. Van and I have been toying with a few songs that would appeal to both our rock base and country fans. A mashup. We don’t have it all worked out yet, it’s just an idea.”

“Could be interesting,” I offered. “This guy Remy’s good?”

“His voice is powerful,” Brodie replied. “Guy could sing without a mic or a guitar no problem.”

“Not to mention, he’s got the look,” Van added. “I mean, stage presence.”

Brodie turned to his husband, and shit, there was practically smoke coming out of our lead singer’s ears.

“What?” Van replied innocently. “It’s true. You saw it too, mon coeur.”

“Oh, so he’s not just a great singer, but he’s hot to boot?” I teased. “Tell us more, Van.”

Van’s face flushed but he shook his head. “Don’t try to get me in trouble, Ro. You know what I mean. And it’s not just me. You’ll see for yourself.”

“Hey, Jesse!” Holls called out. “Let me use your phone.”

Jesse ambled over, passing us his cell. “What’s going on?”

“Brodie invited a country music singer to open for us at the next show. The guy’s here for the intros.”

Jesse gave Brodie the same annoyed look that Regan did.

“What? Van and I were going to tell you,” Brodie snapped. “Eventually. With all the security stuff going on, I just forgot.”

Jesse rolled his eyes and glanced at Van. “I expected more from you.”

Van shrugged. “Sorry, but like my husband said, we’ve been preoccupied. I promise you that it won’t happen again. As soon as we know, you’ll know.”

Jesse nodded. I got it. He was in charge now and of course, he wanted to be in the loop. We were used to doing our own thing or doing it with Van. It was going to take some time for us to get used to working with a new manager.

Holloway googled the singer’s name and me and Faise crowded around him. Several pictures popped up.

“Oh yeah, he’s smoking hot,” Faise announced.

I turned to my boo, not at all happy about that declaration. “You think so?”

“That long hair. The blue eyes. That smile.”

Maybe this was a bad idea. “I don’t like him.”

Faise pinched my arm in retaliation.

“Ow.”

“Be nice,” Faise warned me. “The guy’s probably nervous as hell.”

“I sure am.”

We turned to find the man in question, standing behind us, a guitar case in hand. He was exactly like his picture, tall and broad, with long, chestnut curls and a nervous grin. He was dressed in well-worn jeans, cowboy boots, and a blue plaid shirt that was half buttoned.

Van walked over to greet him first and Remy’s smile turned from shy to big and bold. The guy would look great on album covers, no question. Brodie wasn’t far behind his husband, taking hold of Van’s hand and offering his other to Remy.

“Meet the rest of the guys, Ronin, Holls, and Faise. And our manager, Jesse.”

“Remy Harnett, it’s an honor to meet y’all.” He nodded and shook our hands in turn.

His callused grip told me he was not holding that guitar for show.

“So, you’re gonna open for us while we’re in Florida?” Holloway asked.

“It’ll be my pleasure. I just finished a gig in Tallahassee last night and drove straight down. Can’t say no to an invite from Wayward Lane.”

Jesse stepped forward and offered his hand. “Jesse Aimes, nice to meet you. First, we’ll get your badge set up with our security crew and then you and I need to talk about the schedule.”

“Course,” Remy nodded. “Lead the way.”

“Meet up with us in the VIP room after the show?” Brodie offered. “We can have a drink and talk shop.”

“I’d love that. See y’all later.”

Jesse motioned to the wings, and Remy followed.

“Guys! Five minutes!” Ace yelled out.

I finished the rest of my water and turned to Faise, who was smiling at me. “What?”

“You weren’t really jealous, were you?”

I pulled him in tight and kissed his lips, tasting salt and sweat. “And what if I was?”

He punched his hips forward as his hands reached for my ass. “You’re so ridiculous. You know you’re the only man I see.”

“I don’t know, you looked pretty hard at that picture.”

“I got hard, right here.” He rubbed his body against mine. “And it’s all for you.”

I was about to lean forward and kiss him again when a towel was thrown at me.

“This is time to cool down, not heat up,” Ace snickered.

I ignored our engineer and his joke.

“My bunk,” I whispered. “As soon as the show’s over.”

“But what about Remy?”

“He can wait.”

Faise squeezed my ass and let go. I was revved up and ready to perform.

For the concert, too.

After we closed the show, an hour later, we took our final bows.

Bibi then had us sign merch orders for the meet and greet. I finished mine in record time and decided to head to the tour bus first.

Lennie walked me over and stayed outside while I hopped on the bus, showered, and changed. I was hoping for a quickie with Faise before we headed to meet up with Remy and the guys.

Walking through the living area, I spotted my journal on the table and picked it up.

I often wrote when we were on the road, journaling about our trips. And sometimes, I wrote my secret poetry. Not that I had any outstanding talent, but it was my creative outlet. One that I didn’t want to share with anyone. Well, only Faise knew about it. It bonded us, like so many other things we shared, just us two.

I sat down on the couch and flipped the notebook open. But as soon as I saw the handwriting, I knew that it wasn’t mine.

It was Faise’s. The words were laid out before me and, before I knew it, I was reading.

…It’s getting worse. I can’t watch him with every hot guy that comes along. The coke helps me forget, for a while, but it’s never enough. Part of me wants to tell him. But I know that Ro will freak out. And I can’t lose my best friend…

…I can’t remember what happened last night. Or how I got home. I wiped my face and traces of white powder and blood were streaked on my fingers. When I rolled over, there was a stranger in my bed. Fuck, I hate when they stay over. I must have passed out before I could tell him to get lost. How many guys have I fucked lately? Too many to count. But I needed it. I need to fuck Ro out of my system, even though no matter who or how many times, it never seems to work. And snorting him away isn’t working either. The hangovers are killing me. Thankfully, I still have a supply. Another hit and I won’t have to worry at all...

… I didn’t think coke would feel this good. And bad. Before, it was fun. But now, I need it more than anything. If I run out, I panic, and then everything, including my music, goes to shit. My life is shit anyway. Lately I feel like a robot. Travel, perform, take a bow, party, repeat. One city after another, the bright lights and eager fans all clamoring for a piece of us. It was awesome at first, all the beautiful people, the parties, the drugs, the attention. It was fun and heady. Until it wasn’t. Because I hate that I have to share him with other people. Now he’s all I think about. I can’t stop. I’m messed up. Keeping my feelings buried is something I thought I was good at. But it turns out, even introverts like me can’t keep holding on to shit forever. I’ve been pulling away from him. I need to. Otherwise, I know for sure, I’ll lose my mind. It’s already happening. The white devil has a death grip on me and he’s not letting go. Maybe that’s okay. It can take me. Then I won’t have this pain anymore…

Jesus Christ. What the fuck? I needed to stop reading. Put it away. Forget I ever saw that.

What the hell were you thinking?

I wasn’t. And I thought I knew Faise. That we had no secrets, not between us.

But apparently, I’d been wrong.

The door to the bus opened but I didn’t look up. Didn’t need to. I knew who it was.

Suddenly, Faise was standing in front of me, and the look in his eyes made me break out in a cold sweat. I was guilty as hell, but at the same time, so fucking angry about what I’d found out.

“Why are you reading that? It’s my fucking journal!” he snapped and pulled it out of my hand.

“I thought it was mine. It looks the same. I saw it on the table, and grabbed it by mistake. I’m sorry. By the time I realized… I—” Then my guilt turned to anger. “What the fuck, Faise? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“Don’t!” I snarled. “The coke! The reason why you kept needing more and more. What you were going through. Tell me the truth!”

He threw the journal across the table. “Are you fucking kidding me? You saw me, you know what I went through!”

“Apparently not the reason why!” I yelled. “I can’t… I mean—” My lungs seized up. I was so out of breath I could barely form words. “The reason your addiction spiraled. It was me?”