10. Where are we now?

ten

Where are we now?

T he Philly stadium was nice, though I could have been in any town anywhere. And it already was starting to feel like it was. At least I wasn’t late this time. Restless, yes, but everyone was where they were supposed to be. Miami and Jinx had gone by themselves to do a radio show and were meeting us at the venue for the meet and greet. And after that, we had soundcheck.

I signed a few posters and shirts before Drake was at my side. “Zade is here again.”

“Well, shit. That’s one determined dude.” He hadn’t been in Jersey that I knew, anyway. But following us to Philly was a bit much.

“I think he has a crush on you or something. What do you want to do?”

“Got an idea. I don’t think we should keep letting him back. And for fuck’s sake, last time was awkward as hell.” I got up and motioned for Coleman. “Hey, can you run up and get a pair of sticks from Mick?” He was in charge of the equipment between shows.

“Yeah, sure, what’s up?”

“Got an overly zealous fan, and we’re not letting him backstage.”

“You think giving him sticks will help?” Drake asked. “You don’t think that would just encourage him to keep this up?”

“It’s to soften the blow. But not being allowed back anymore should give him the message. Plus, you know, he’s from Atlanta. This is pretty far for him, and Boston has to be worse. But after that, we’re on the other side of the country.” Hell, jumping from Jacksonville to Atlanta to Richmond and then New Jersey and Philly before finally moving on to Boston for our East Coast leg was a lot for the band and we had support. Surely, Zade would not continue following us. “He’s just seriously fan-boying, and I’ve never had that.”

“That you know of.” Drake glared at me as if I’d done something wrong.

“What the fuck ever.”

It only took about ten minutes for Coleman to get the sticks. I signed them . Zade! Stay cool, dude. Adding my name to that one and only signed my name on the other. Drake tucked them under his arm. “Oh hey. Give him tickets to the show. Just don’t let him backstage.”

“What reason should I give?”

“I don’t give a fuck.”

Coleman put an arm around me. “Settle down. Tell him there’s no capacity.”

“Gotcha.”

“I need a drink. This is nuts.” I signed a few more things and shook hands. Selfies were taken. Eventually, it was time to get backstage to psych up for the show. I loved my fans, so this should have been more enjoyable. It wasn’t, and that had to mean I was getting tired. I was looking forward to the downtime that was coming.

My back was killing me, and I kept missing the beat. I was dragging, and it was very unlike me, and I was pretty damn sure everyone noticed. Especially when Miami held his hand up and made the cutting motion. “Zig?”

“I know.” I twirled a stick out to the side. “You want to take it from the top or move on or what?”

Jinx tilted his head to the side. “What do you want to do?”

“I want to fuck off right about now.” I dropped the stick, letting it fall wherever the fuck it went. I needed something stronger for my back, and I didn’t care to tell the whole world my problems. So I pulled my usual shit and stormed off, heading for the dressing rooms. I at least could smoke the rest of the blunt I had in there and maybe ease up on the pain a bit. The yoga helped, but I could no longer escape the fact that I needed a brace, and that was a very hard pill to swallow. I did not want to admit it. And maybe a doctor to look at my old damn bones would help. I’d been doing this too long. Even when Midnight Hunt wasn’t together, I was still playing. Not on big stadium tours like this, but playing, nonetheless.

I dug the blunt out of my bag and headed toward the service entrance, Drake shadowing me as usual. I kind of expected Coleman to follow me as well, but he hadn’t. Fine. I knew he had other things to do. Promotor things. He did have a company to run.

I lit up and held the first toke, letting it settle in. Hoping for a little relief.

“Yo. Zig. There you are.” Not Coleman, but Jinx.

I rolled my hand, gesturing for him to go on since I sure as shit wasn’t letting the smoke out too soon.

“What’s up. That wasn’t like you?”

Turning to the side, I exhaled long and slow. “What part?”

“You know what part, man. You never mess up like that. Walking away. Running out here to get high. Yeah, those are normal, but never have you put in a bad performance.”

“Relax, dude. It was soundcheck.” I took another drag.

“Yeah, I know. And missing it altogether is your M.O. too. But seriously, what’s going on?”

“Everybody has an off day every once in a while. Chill the fuck out.”

He left me there to finish my joint in peace, but he didn’t look happy. Well, I wouldn’t blow the show, so I wasn’t worried about it. I needed to stretch out, so I headed back to the dressing room, ignoring the looks Drake kept cutting me. It wasn’t his job to do more than babysit.

The show wasn’t the best. I didn’t screw up royally, but it wasn’t up to my normal standards. I shrugged it off and told Jinx I was tired. There was a break coming up, so they could relax and stay off my back.

We went to the common area where more fans were hanging out. It was a true after-party. Some had backstage passes from contests and things, plus some Kai arranged for. It wasn’t the groupies like the old days, but I enjoyed it. I wasn’t fucking anybody but Coleman, either, but hanging out was fun. Took my mind off the shitty show.

Sometime during the night, someone gave me pills, and I slipped them into my pocket for later. I wasn’t entirely sure what they were, but maybe they’d knock me out and let my back muscles rest. Let me rest. Because everything was starting to feel like the whirlwind touring used to be. The first time around, before Midnight Hunt broke up, the tours had us going city to city, back-to-back without a break until I couldn’t remember by own fucking name, let alone what damned city we were in. Hell, someone had to tell Miami where we were before we went on so he wouldn’t call out the wrong place to open the show. And the partying after the show was simply mind-numbing. Drugs. Groupies. Sex. It all blurred together back in the day. I didn’t want a repeat of that, but things had started slipping out of control.

Before I knew it, we were back at the hotel. I checked the pills. Turns out it was X, so I took them, and jumped in the shower. By the time I finished, they were kicking in hard, and I wanted Coleman in the worst way. “Babe. I’m so fucking horny right now.”

He was on the bed, propped up against pillows and flipping through his phone. He looked up, eyes going wide as he took in my damp form and my dick sticking straight up, tall and proud. “I see that.”

I didn’t know what he did with the phone or his clothes, for that matter. I crawled up on top of him, feeling his skin on me as we writhed together. It was heavenly. Everything about him was delicious. I licked his throat and nibbled at his collarbone. I flicked one of his nipples and bit it too. Coleman thrust up into me, his hard cock pressed into my abdomen, making me want to touch him. I slid to his side and grabbed him. “Turn over so we can share.”

“What?” He turned, though, and when I took both our cocks in hand, pressing them together, he got it. We frotted together with rough sliding until it wasn’t enough.

“Moremoremore.” I wiggled around and spread my legs. “Fill me.”

Coleman moved quickly, taking only a minute to stretch me before he was rolling on a condom. He started out slow, but I was so worked up, I urged him on, until he was fucking me hard and fast while I called out, “Like that, yes, babe, right there.”

I couldn’t wait much longer. It felt like my brain would explode if I didn’t come right that second. I don’t know if I said that out loud or if Coleman could read me well, but he grabbed my cock, jacking it in time with his hard thrusts until the orgasm rolled right over me. The relief was so sweet, I passed the fuck out.

We had plenty of time before we had to get to the plane to Boston. And check-in and security were a lot faster when you were leaving from a smaller airport on a private plane. Commercial flights were impossible. But booking a private jet seemed to work for us so far.

I made sure to take my time doing yoga and stretching after the issue with my back. It was feeling better, and I did not want a relapse. When I was done, I took the last of my pot and rolled up a joint. I would use the same slip-out-the-back routine before meeting Coleman in the room afterward.

Coleman beat me back to the room. “How was the workout?” I asked, closing the door behind me.

“Pretty good. Did you get stretched?” He leaned in to kiss me, and before I could answer him, he wrinkled his nose. “You reek of pot.”

“Yeah. Sorry. Needed to relax a bit. I’ll grab a shower, and hey, let’s stop and eat on the way. We have time, right?” It wasn’t a usual thing to do, but Philly had great food, and it wasn’t like my face was as noticed as Jinx’s was. I could still run around for the most part where he and Miami could not.

“Yes. Shower.” He waved me off. I didn’t know what he thought about the pot. I tried not to stick it in his face or anything, but I also wasn’t going to stop. But he didn’t say anything else so neither did I, but I was going to need a hookup in Boston.

Once we were ready, Coleman called for the car and Drake escorted us down. We stopped at a Big Nick’s Steak Shack restaurant not far from the hotel. I was jonesing for a Philly cheesesteak. Hell, we were in Philly! And the place seemed small-ish. It was well after lunch, so it wasn’t crowded, either. Perfect. Drake walked through the store and settled us in a booth. “Stay put. I’m checking the restrooms.”

Coleman handed me a menu. “What are you thinking about getting?”

Before I could even look at the menu, a familiar and unwelcome face showed up. Zade put his hands flat on the table in front of us. “Ziggy. I told you. This man is not for you. He’s no good for you.” He straightened and lifted his shirt, purposely exposing a gun tucked in his pants. “I don’t want to see you waste your time with this… guy . Whatever. He doesn’t know you. He doesn’t get you like I do. It’s the music man. And he doesn’t fit. So this is what’s going to happen. We are leaving. Come on.”

“Easy, Zade. I don’t want you to hurt anyone.” My heart was pounding in my ears.

“Then get up.” He put his hand on the butt of the gun.

I stood and held my hands up. “You’re right. Totally.”

Zade jerked his head toward the door. And the hardest thing I ever had to do in my life was walk away and leave Coleman sitting there. But I was confident he would be calling for Drake the second Zade turned and followed me out.

“Damn, Ziggy. It was him, wasn’t it? That guy wouldn’t let me back to see you last night. I know it. Well, that ends now. I’ll travel with you. That way, I’ll be sure to be next to you.” He gestured to an old beat-up junker.

“That sounds like a plan, Zade. Where we going now?” My heart was pounding overtime, faster than I could ever play.

“You’ll see. Get in.”

I circled the car to get in, like Zade told me, moving slowly and steadily. I didn’t want to upset him and have him shoot me or anyone else. I pulled the door handle and saw Drake out of the corner of my eye. He motioned for me to get down. I trusted the man, so I dropped to the ground without question.

A gunshot blasted close by—so close. I wrapped my arms over my head. Another blast. I was shaking. What happened? I couldn’t see anything but fuck if I was getting back up. Hell to the no.

Before I could register what was going on around me, Coleman was there holding me. “It’s okay, baby. Police are on the way.” I let him pull me into his arms and hold me. I never felt so loved. So comforted as he rocked me.

Drake spoke with the officers as they loaded Zade into an ambulance. He was hurt but not dead. No one else was shot. Apparently, Zade had shot first. And missed. Drake did not. He hit Zade in the shoulder. But it was enough for Zade to drop the gun, so Drake could tackle him.

I tucked my face against Coleman’s neck. “Need a drink. And a joint. And you. Like now. And not necessarily in that order.”