5. Chapter Five

“Come in, boys. I know it’s a tight fit, but I’ll make this quick.” One by one we filed into the office, but I stayed right by the door. Quick exit and all that. “Previously, Diamond and Easton had been to your show and unfortunately your guitarist walked off stage that night and that was the end of that. I, however, didn’t give up. I’d been sent a video of Playing With Fire and liked what I heard. But when I received the same of Chaotic with Josh on guitar,” I groaned. Shit was about to go downhill. “I had to see a live performance myself.”

Tension mounted as Sal took his sweet ass time getting to the punch line.

“With that being said, I was pleased but I’m not going to sugar coat it. Josh, you’re talented, no doubt about that, but your past supersedes you. The Masterson bands won’t go easy on you, and I won’t risk those relationships. If we make a deal, I’m throwing you right to the wolves. If you accept this offer and it goes well, it will end with a contract. If it doesn’t then I’m sorry, boys, we’ll have to part ways.”

I dropped my head and nearly drew blood as I dug into my skull, scratching the hell out of it. “Why can’t anyone let the past go? You don’t think losing everything has changed me? How is it others get a second chance, yet I’m not allowed one? Ten years, Sal. Ten fucking years of my life I lost.”

“I’m offering you a second chance. Stay out of trouble and don’t piss my boys off and you’ll get signed. But there will be an out clause in that contract clearly stating if you mess up in any way, you’re out. The same goes for all of you, but we know it’s Josh they’ll keep tabs on.” Sal’s glare nearly set me off but I managed to keep the demons locked away.

“What is it you’re offering, exactly?” Jason asked, taking Sal’s glare from me.

“Rocktoberfest. One of the Sunday bands pulled out, early in the lineup. I want Chaotic to take it. I will send a bus to pick you up and take you there and back. You’ll sleep on the bus and your food and transportation will be covered. I’ll also pay Chaotic five thousand dollars to play. Is this agreeable with all members?” Sal’s eyes went from Jason, to Marley, to Nigel, and last to me as we each readily agreed. “Excellent. You have a bit of time to tighten up and arrange whatever you need to before then. Jason, I’ll be in touch.” With that, Sal left.

“Come on, guys. Let’s load up. We’re taking tomorrow off but band practice on Monday and we have another show Tuesday night.” We grabbed our stuff and followed Jason out to our vehicles. The guys didn’t say a word to me, they didn’t need to. I knew what they were thinking and I’m sure they regretted hiring me as their guitarist. Talent versus reputation, talent doesn’t always win out. I dropped off my gear at home and considered staying until I remembered that I told Reagan I’d stop at the bar.

“There’s the man of the hour!” Daniel announced as I walked in. My usual seat was taken, so I sat on the only remaining stool.

“You look like you could use a double.” Reagan hit it dead fucking on.

“More than you know.” What if I couldn’t cut it and went off the rails? I’d cost the band everything they’d worked years for. “Fuck.” I shot my drink back and felt the familiar burn as it made its way down. If ever there was a night to get drunk, this was it.

Too bad my bandmates showed up when I was four doubles in.

“Come to kick a man when he’s down?” I snarled, though things were a bit…fuzzy.

“Ah, charming as ever, I see.” Normally, Jason’s smartass comments didn’t bother me but right now, everything did.

“Got that right.” Nigel crossed his arms and glared down at me. His scowl said a thousand more words than he did. He hated me. Didn’t blame him, I hated myself.

“Look,” Jason said, clearly frustrated with how this was going. “We didn’t come here to fight. We came here to make sure you were in on this deal with us. Rocktoberfest is a huge fucking deal, and we want you with us, but we need your word you won’t fuck up. It’s all yours if you want it but the first run in with the law or any other band and you’re out on your ass. You know as well as we do that Chaotic is your last chance in this industry.”

“Thanks for the fucking reminder.” I didn’t need this shit nor had I ever had a single run in with the law. Just went to show you how ignorant some people were, always assuming shit. I couldn’t get any lower than I was right now, and Nigel’s groans only served to further piss me off.

“What’s his problem? Did I fuck your boyfriend? Girlfriend?” Nigel stared straight through me. Me personally, I had no preference and didn’t want to assume the same for Nigel. I’d fuck anything with a willing hole. Or at least, I used to. Nigel made a move toward me, but Jason and Marley cut him off.

“He’s a huge Maiden and Social fan,” Marley explained which did abso-fucking-lutely nothing to help this situation. Who wasn’t a fan of theirs? Hell, even I was, and I could play every damn one of their songs.

“Who isn’t?” If I had a dollar for every time some asshole said that to me. I got it, both bands fucking rocked but continually throwing that line in my face fucking sucked and I was over it.

“This goes against my better judgment and when you fuck up,” Nigel pointed at me, “I’ll be there to say I told you so.”

When, not if. I didn’t miss that. It was a no brainer, Nigel had me clocked for failure.

They left and I sat back on the barstool. Seriously, if I fucked this up there was nothing left for me. No reason to keep living, which was more like barely surviving. Complete and total waste of the air I breathed. So why keep breathing?

“Come on, handsome. I’ll give you a ride home.”

“You think I’m handsome?” Jesus, that sounded whiney to my own ears, but Reagan was too nice to call me out on it.

“I do, but I need your address so I can take you home.”

“I don’t wanna be alone.”

Reagan shut off the lights and locked the gate that separated the bar from the hotel lobby. Silently, we walked to his car, well, his arm around my waist guided me there. It felt so nice to be this close to another human. I rested my head on his shoulder and sighed and I could’ve sworn I felt him press his lips to the top of my head. Nah, probably just drunken wishful thinking.

“Where are we?” I must’ve blacked out during the drive and woke when Reagan undid the seatbelt.

“We’re at my house. You never gave me your address and I feel better keeping you close and making sure you don’t choke on your own vomit.”

“Doesn’t matter if I die. No one cares.” I hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but the brain-mouth filter was long gone.

“Josh.” I flinched at Reagan’s stern tone. “That’s not true, I’d care and if I hear you put yourself down again there will be repercussions.”

“Huh.”

“Your sloshy brain and I need to have a long chat when it’s sobered up tomorrow. Come on, let’s go inside.”

“Don’t be mad at me, please. I’ll be a good boy, I promise.” The tears that came after that couldn’t be helped as fear flashed through me of the abuse I’d suffered by my father’s fists. The first time I remembered him hitting me, a full fisted hit, I was five. It was the first day of kindergarten and I was so excited. I ran up to his room, but he wasn’t alone. “Daddy, Daddy, it’s time for school!” He reached out, clocked me right in the chest and hit me so hard I flew backwards until my backside landed against the door. As soon as I managed to get up, I ran downstairs and right out the door, not stopping until I got to school. Thankfully it was across the street and a nice teacher helped me find my classroom. “Please don’t hit me.”

“Josh, sweetheart, I would never hit you. I might spank your ass but only if it’s consensually agreed upon.” Reagan led me down a hallway and into what I guessed was his bedroom. Everything kinda swirled together and I couldn’t make it out. “Here, sit so I can take off your boots.”

I was out of words, which for me was never a bad thing, especially for drunk me.

“Do you want me to take your pants off?”

“Are you gonna ride me? Giddy up, cowboy.” I lay back and waited for the fun to start.

“Who said I was giving up my ass? Plus, I have morals and messing around with an inebriated person will never happen.” He pulled and tugged while I lay sprawled out across his bed. “All right, wolf, let’s scoot you up.”

“Wolf?”

“Yeah, you’re tattoo.”

“That’s me, a lone wolf. Basically been on my own since birth.” The words were clear to me though they probably came out slurred. Good thing since I’d way overshared. I’d likely get the boot first thing in the morning after Reagan decided I was no longer a threat to myself. Little did he know…

“Trash can is next to the bed. I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t leave me.” What a needy fucking bastard I’d turned into.

“Sweetheart, I need to get water and pain meds. Trust me, you will thank me for it tomorrow.” Reagan kissed my forehead and was gone.

That had to mean something, right?

I woke the next morning with a blinding headache and my guts in my throat. The bed was empty, as I rolled across it and barely made it to the trash can.

“Good morning, sunshine.”

“Ugh, can you not sound so fucking cheery?”

“Aww, is someone’s tummy upset? Here, jackass, take these.” Reagan handed me a glass of water and two pills.

“How quickly I was downgraded from sweetheart to jackass.”

Reagan’s boisterous laughter filled the room, fucker had far too much fun at my expense. “Depends on which side of Josh I’m seeing. Bathroom is across the hall, I set out a new toothbrush for you. Follow the smell of bacon to the kitchen and meet me there.”

I barely got the word out. “Bac…” before I hurled again. With everything I’d eaten for the last month emptied out, I crawled across the hall to the bathroom. I emptied the trash in the toilet, brushed my teeth and finger combed my hair. Jesus, if shit had a face, it mirrored mine because that was how horrible my reflection was.

“Remind me not to drink that much again.” I nearly tripped over my own feet when I stopped in the kitchen and saw Josh wasn’t alone. “Oh, um, sorry.”

“Josh,” Reagan smiled. “This is my mother, Becky.”

“Sorry, ma’am. Nice to meet you.” She shook my hand but had that same sly, knowing smile as her son.

“Tied one over, did ya?” Great, I must’ve been the chosen breakfast topic.

“Oh, um, yes, ma’am.” I side-eyed Reagan who nearly rolled off the chair laughing as hard as he was. “I’ll just call an Uber and get out of your hair.”

“You’ll do no such thing. Have a seat and join us for breakfast then Reagan can take you to get your car.” She rose and pointed to the empty chair between them. Guess I was staying. “You told your mom?” I whispered to Reagan, but she had supersonic mom hearing.

“My boy and I have no secrets. We talk about everything. Now, why don’t you tell us more about yourself. Family? Siblings?”

“No, ma’am, none of that.” Didn’t want to go into the sordid details, she’d only think less of me than she already did. She didn’t need to know I was the bastard son of a whore who overdosed, raised by her pimp who claimed to be my sperm donor. And I used the word raised lightly. The neighbors took pity on me and fed me and washed my clothes until they moved away. That’s when the abuse increased, and I started sneaking out and not coming home until I knew he had passed out for the night. Then came the point I never returned, and no one questioned where I was either. At least not to the best of my knowledge.

The mental trip down enemy lane ended when she set a plate stacked with eggs, bacon, and toast in front of me. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Eat up.”

“Coffee? I’m getting a refill,” Reagan asked as he stood. “We’ve got half and half and sugar.”

“Just black, please.” These people were too nice, how could they be real? Waitstaff in restaurants were the only ones who’d ever served me. Did I tip them, or would that be rude in their own home? Rules. I didn’t know the rules, and their being nice confused the hell out of me.

“Deep breath,” Becky patted my hand. “It’s all gonna be okay.” Why did her words hit me, like I could believe them? An odd calm washed through me at her touch, a sense of rightness. I must’ve really been fucking hungover.

“Thank you.” Reagan sat a fresh cup of coffee in front of me and I inhaled deeply. Nothing smelled better first thing in the morning outside of bacon.

“I’ll leave you boys to it. Josh, just put your plate in the sink when you’re done.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“No more of that ma’am business, call me Becky.” I nodded as she left the room, feeling restless at being left alone with Reagan. Embarrassing, awkward shit was said last night, by me. I’d either have to lie about or fess up to it and given I didn’t want to ruin whatever was building between us, fessing up it would be.

“I’m, um, I’m sorry about last night.”

“You want to tell me what happened to trigger the drinking?” Reagan shot right to the heart of the matter. Not hey, dumbass, you said this or any of that shit. He wanted to start at the core and work his way up.

“Sal invited us to play at Rocktoberfest.”

“I got that much from what the guys said when they came in last night. What I don’t understand is why they all think you’re gonna fuck it up for them.”

“History. And mine speaks for itself.” It screamed and yelled and kicked and beat me into submission. No matter how hard I tried, it wouldn’t go away. No one would let it.

“Bullshit.”

“What?”

“I’m calling bullshit. Don’t let your past dictate the present and drinking away your problems is just that. Go to practice, rock the fucking shows like you did Saturday night. Don’t stick your dick in anything that moves. Show them you are better than past you. Show them your new present.” Wow, Reagan’s words really shook me.

“I, um, I haven’t slept with anyone in months. I’ve kinda had my sights set on this surly bartender I know.” There, I was honest, and it didn’t kill me. Yet.

“Surly, huh? Good to know. Maybe stop trying to get into that bartender’s pants and get to know him first. Sound like a plan?”

I had the overwhelming urge to answer with a yes, sir. “Understood.”

“Both our lives are crazy busy,” here it comes, the but that hung in the air through the conversation. “But I’m willing to give this a try if you are.”

“This as in us? As in a dating us?” Why did I ramble?

Reagan’s smile lit up my insides. “Yes. We’ll find a time we’re both free and have our first date.” Date? I was happy sitting at the bar for hours on end watching him. Had I already been dating Reagan? Was one-sided dating even a thing? Him taking charge felt right, one less thing for me to worry about or fuck up. He’d let me know what to do.

“Tell me where and when and I’ll be there. Sober. I promise.” Unlike my old man, I didn’t have to drink and could easily go without. I chose to and while I thought it was necessary last night, today, I fully regretted that decision.

Reagan leaned forward and took my hand in his. “Josh, if you were drunk all the time I’d have reason for concern, but you’re not. You come in and have a drink, two at most, and there’s hours when you have nothing but water. You’re better than you think you are, you just need to learn to cut yourself some slack and give yourself a chance.” All I managed was a nod, at a loss for words. Reagan had faith in me, believed in me. Now I just had to do the same.

Learned behaviors, broken patterns, do what you must do to survive. That was all I knew. I’d hate to think where I’d be if I hadn’t got that break with Maiden. Likely sifting through trash cans, sleeping under overpasses, and doing unspeakable things. Fight or flight mode was in my blood and if I wanted a chance with Reagan, I had to mentally beat that demon down.

One of a million I’d need to tackle.

“Do you have any plans for today?”

“Other than taking a shower at some point, no.”

“How about spending it together. Are you opposed to a day date?” The way his fingers skimmed along my hand, calmly, soothing, I could sit and have him do this for hours.

I shrugged. “Never been on a date, day or night. What did you have in mind?”

“Let’s start with getting your car. You said you wanted to shower, right?”

“Yes, I can’t even stand the smell of myself right now.” How the hell did he?

“I have an idea. Let’s grab your car and head to your place, then I’ll drive to the places I have in mind.” Reagan left the kitchen and returned just as I’d finished washing the dishes I’d used. “All right, let’s roll.”

“You still gonna keep the bar closed on Sundays?” To the best of my knowledge, it had always been that way.

“For now. I like knowing we’re guaranteed at least one day to off. Though with as busy as we’ve been that may prove to be difficult.”