by K. L. Myers
ME: Sean, I’m back in Phoenix. Thank you for everything. Tell Patricia I’ll call her tomorrow.
Chapter 2
Cayson
I take Kayla’s notepad back to my room with me, reading and re-reading the story of Richie Blade and Lara Reese. The similarities are too uncanny to be a coincidence. Richie is the lead singer of Blade Runner, and Lara is a journalist. They both hail from Arizona; Richie from Scottsdale, but Lara is from Tucson. Lara is writing a piece for a well-known music magazine about the band, which is how she meets Richie. They become fast friends and lovers, but before she can tell him how she feels, she leaves. Lara is confused about her feelings for Richie and decides she needs to give herself some space to decide whether she can confront him and tell him how she feels, or whether she will just publish her piece and move on with her broken heart.
The more I read it over and over, the angrier I get at myself for not telling Kayla how I feel, but also at her for leaving without saying good-bye. I don’t know if she’s feeling the same as I am, or if she regrets what happened between us. As much as I want to reach out to her, I can’t bring myself to do it. She is gone, which only solidifies everything I know. There are no happily ever afters. There is no such thing as your one true soul mate, and no matter how much Kayla proclaimed there is, she was just full of shit. Romance novels are bullshit, based on fictitious, unrealistic relationships, and no one will sell me on anything different. Kayla got me caught up in believing for a few moments that maybe she and I had it, but the truth always wins in the end. What I thought was a strong connection was just my blue balls needing to release into a warm pussy. Her pussy. I don’t have feelings for her and I never will. At least that’s what I tell myself as I drift off to sleep inhaling the smell of her shampoo and body wash on my pillow and sheets.
TWO WEEKS EARLIER
I sit in the chair staring at the wall in Rocky’s hospital room. Thoughts of what we’re going to do with the rest of our tour if Rocky can’t get his shit together plague my mind when Sean’s voice echoes through the room.
“Yes, Mr. Kohler will be arriving this week.” Silence permeates in the room as Sean listens to the person on the other end of the phone. “K.O.H.L.E.R, Kohler, Roger, but he goes by Rocky, so please make sure his intake forms reference that. He can’t stand being called Roger.”
Sean is making arrangements at the Jennifer Waybright Center for recovering addicts. The goal is to have Rocky checked in ASAP and hope that he’ll join us in New York for the last day of the tour. I know thirty days doesn’t seem long enough, but Rocky was doing so well until last night; I’m not sure why he fell off the wagon. When Sean hangs up the phone, the disappointment in his eyes tells me he doesn’t have good news.
“CJ, Rocky is looking at a minimum of sixty days before they will consider releasing him.” Sean paces back and forth in his little corner space. “I’m going to need to work my magic with the execs, come up with some story about there being an emergency in his family that he needs to leave for quickly—maybe his sister being extremely ill; that could work—and hope they don’t dig their feet in and want to know specifics. The fact that we haven’t had any issues lately with Rocky and that he has been clean should keep them from suspecting there is anything wrong.”
I release a heavy sigh and drag my hands down my face. “What are we going to do for a drummer, Sean? If we can’t find one quickly, we’ll have to cancel the tour, and that won’t look good for any of us.”
Sean points a finger at me when he speaks. “Look, I need you to sell rehab to Rocky. He has to go and do it as soon as he is released. I’ll work on finding us a drummer by morning. Can you handle that?”
Nodding my head up and down, I say: “Yeah, I’ll get him on board when he wakes up.” The sound of moaning and rustling of sheets alerts me that Rocky is coming around. “Go, Sean, I’ll handle Rocky.”
It takes an hour for Rocky to finally be coherent enough to understand what I’m telling him. “Look, man, you’ve blown it this time. Dude, you wrecked the guy's car. Totaled it, in fact. Sean had to agree to pay the guy off to keep his mouth shut. Then we had to buy him a new ride. I paid for this out of my account so no one would be the wiser. You’re so lucky that you didn’t hit or kill anyone. What the hell were you doing way out there in the middle of nowhere? If our security hadn’t tracked your phone, the cops would have eventually found you, and either you’d be dead or on the front page of the rags. Don’t you give a shit about the band, fucker?”
The emptiness in Rocky’s eyes tells me he isn’t registering just how serious this is. He sits quietly for a few minutes before he speaks. “Look, CJ, the band means everything to me.”
“Then fucking act like it, dude, and pull your head out of your ass,” I yell at him.
“I am, CJ, I am. Look, I just wanted to get out and feel the road and the fresh air on my face. It was only a couple of drinks. I wasn’t drunk.”
“Bullshit, Rocky, you had five at the meet and greet alone.”
“I know, man, but I wasn’t feeling it at all. I swear it. You know I can handle my liquor better than anyone. When I hit the city limits, there was a little bar, and I thought ‘What the fuck, no one will know me in there,’ so I stopped. I was feeling fine when I left, but the road was dark, and before I knew it, there was a curve and a pole coming right for me. The next thing I knew, I was sliding sideways, and that’s all I remember. I wasn’t too drunk to drive. I know better than that.” Remorse fills Rocky’s face as he closes his eyes. “So, what’s going to happen now? When can I get out of here?”
I know Rocky isn’t going to like the answer I’m going to give him, but frankly, I don’t give a shit. He’s either on board, or I’m going to choke the shit out of him till he gets on board. “Your blood alcohol count was over .23, Rocky, and there were traces of THC. Just another piece of evidence we’ve had to hide, so I’d say you were anything but fine. I’m not even going to ask where you got the weed. So, as soon as they release you, you’re on a plane to Palm Springs, and you’re spending the next sixty days at the Jennifer Waybright Center. I’d hoped you’d be back for the final night in New York, but they’re insisting on sixty days. You’re going to get your shit cleaned up and hope we have a record label for you to come back to.”
“The fuck you say. I am not spending the next sixty days on lockdown with some psychiatric fuck messing with my head.” The anger resonates from Rocky’s voice as he speaks.
Flinging the magazine across the room, I push my finger into his chest. “You will fucking go to the clinic and get your shit clean. You’ll do what is asked of you, and you’ll do it for the five of us. You remember what we said when we started down this road?” I know he knows what I’m talking about, but just so we’re both on the same page, I continue, “We said we’d do this together as a team and that we’d end it all before any of us ever split. You need to hold up your end, dude, because none of us are ready to quit, and if you can’t get your shit together, it’s over for us, and it will be all your fault.”
Rocky slaps my finger off his chest. “Fuck you, CJ! Don’t lay this on me. I’ll go to the fucking clinic because I’m not letting the rest of the guys down, but I didn’t expect you to throw this back in my face. Yeah, I fucked up, and I know it, but you could have my back, dude.”
For a brief moment, I feel guilty for the way I acted, but then I come to my senses. “I’ve got your back, Rocky. We’re family, and family sticks together through good and bad. If I didn’t have your back, I wouldn’t be here right now. See you in sixty days, brother.” Not giving Rocky the opportunity to argue with me any further, I leave.
I’m alone in the elevator as it descends the four floors to the lobby of the hospital. Thoughts of just how badly this could have gone occupy my brain. I can’t be alone any longer and still stay sane. I need a distraction from my thoughts, and the only thing that comes to mind is Kayla. When the doors open, the only person I see is Colby, our head of security. The lob
by to the hospital is empty at this hour, and I didn’t expect to see him standing there. Stepping out of the elevator, I cross the empty space, stopping just a few feet in front of Colby, and wait for him to finish his call. “Get me the hell out of here, now.”
The car ride back to the hotel is silent. The minute the SUV stops at the front entrance, I don’t wait for Colby. Slamming the door behind me, I head straight for the elevators and straight for Kayla’s room. I don’t know why she’s the first person to come to mind, but I know she’s someone I can talk to. I’m not sure she’ll still be up; it’s midnight, and I was a dick to her earlier, so the chances of her wanting to see me are pretty slim. With an open palm, I pound on her door and wait for her to answer. When the door swings open, Kayla stands before me, one hand on her hip and one on the door. She’s dressed in her night clothes, which is comprised of an almost see-through T-shirt and tiny-as-fuck shorts. The curt sound of her voice tells me I’m the last person she wants to see right now, and who could blame her? Like I said, I was a dick to her earlier.
Before Kayla can slam the door in my face, I blurt out that Rocky has been in an accident and ask if she’ll let me come in to talk for a bit. Kayla steps back away from the door and allows me to enter. Her room is tiny compared to mine, and there’s no sitting area. I assess the space before making my way over to her bed and sitting on the edge. It’s an odd feeling to be alone with her in her room, but it doesn’t stop me from telling her everything about how the guys and I met and how we formed the band. Before I know it, I’ve spewed my whole life story to her. The good, the bad, and the ugly.
“This band is everything to me, Kayla. The five of us are brothers. They were my lifeline when I needed one. Without them, I don’t know if I’d be the person I am today.”
Kayla is standing before me, leaning against the dresser with her arms crossed, covering her perfect tits. As much as I love looking at her tits, it’s probably a good thing that she is.
“When my parents split and my mom moved us to Arizona, I was a very destructive and angry teen. The guys and I went to the same high school, and it didn’t take long before we became thick as thieves. One day, we decided to start a band. It was crazy. We never expected to end up where we are today. We just wanted to do something that we all loved. It took us by surprise when we signed our first contract. That was all my mom’s doing. Her friend Patricia is Sean’s wife. He came to watch us one night and liked what he saw. The rest is history. It’s not what you know but who you know. Right?”
I didn’t notice that Kayla had lowered her arms to rest her hands on the dresser behind her until she speaks. “I’m sure you guys would have gotten noticed even if your mom hadn’t asked her friend for a favor.”
Without even thinking, I flop back on the bed. Looking up at the ceiling, I continue, “See, the thing is, we’re in this together, the guys and I. When we signed that contract, we made the pact we’d do this together and have each other's backs. We were going to be the five musketeers, one for all and all for one. If any of us ever wanted out, then that would be the end of the band. We all agreed, and to this day, we still feel that way. So this thing with Rocky, it could be the end of the band, and honestly, I’m not ready to call it quits.”
I didn’t even feel when Kayla lay beside me. Heat rolls through my body at the realization that we’re so close to each other on her bed.
“Will you cancel the rest of your shows?” Kayla asks.
Rolling to face her, I see the concern on her face. Without even thinking, my hand rises to her face, and I gently stroke it as I let my fingers glide through her hair as I speak. “Hell, no, we can’t cancel. That would be career suicide.”
Kayla rolls to face me and rests her hand on my hip. I don’t think she is aware that she even placed it there. She starts asking questions about what will happen next. Taking advantage of the situation, I use this as an opportunity to caress her skin as I speak to her. I feel her shiver as my hand runs up and down her arm. She feels good; her skin is smooth, soft and flawless. All I can think about is how good it would feel to hold her, and that’s exactly what I do, pulling her into my arms and wrapping them around her.
“Can we do this, hold each other?” I ask. “I just need to feel some good in all this shit right now, please.”
Kayla’s response doesn’t come in the form of words. Instead, she reaches out and wraps her arms around my waist, allowing me to pull her tighter to my body. Kayla’s curiosity about what would happen next has her firing off twenty questions. I answer every last one of them as honestly as I can, without going into too much detail about exactly what has happened tonight. When I finish telling her that we have probably already found Rocky’s temporary replacement, she is completely surprised at how fast this has happened.
The reason I came to her tonight was to get away from all the bullshit, so I change the subject quickly, wanting to know more about her.
“Tell me why you do it, Kayla?”
“Do what, Cayson?”
“Why do you write? What made you decide to write romance novels and feed bullshit into the minds of naïve women?” I’m not trying to start a fight. I just want to understand why she does what she does.
When she responds, I don’t expect the gentleness in her voice. “I know you’ve had a bad night, so I’m not going to take offense to your stupidity and callousness right now. I write because I have something to say. I write romance because there is so much darkness in the world right now. When you turn on the news, there is nothing but violence. When was the last time you saw a reporter reporting on something fun or light-hearted?”
I think for a moment about what she is saying. I don’t normally watch the news, but I guess the few times that I have, there wasn’t really anything positive going on. Before I can answer her, she continues.
“Growing up, I saw how much my parents loved each other and how rarely they ever fought. I always dreamt of finding my one true love and having what they have. In college, one of my professors told me I had a knack for writing and that I should consider writing for a living. So I did. I wanted to write about something that made me happy, and finding one's true love makes me happy. If someone can pick up my book and escape from reality for just a few hours and find a little bit of contentment, then I’ve done my job.”
Kayla’s voice as she speaks relaxes me, taking away all thoughts of the shit storm that happened tonight and just how bad it is going to be tomorrow. I am just about ready to call it a night when she starts talking about herself again. It isn’t long before I find myself drifting off to sleep.
The sound of my phone ringing has me reaching into my pants’ pocket to silence it before it wakes Kayla up. Her face is as peaceful as a child’s, without a care in the world as she sleeps. Untangling myself from her, I answer the call from Sean.
“I found us a drummer,” Sean says, “It's Fallon Moody, and he’s meeting us this morning. He’s willing to join us for the last leg of this tour. He and his wife, Jenna, are excited about the opportunity.”
“Hold up. His wife, Jenna? What are you talking about, Sean?”
“We’ll talk about that later. Just get down here so the band can meet with Fallon.”
Kayla is still asleep, so I leave her a note telling her to call Colby when she’s ready, and he’ll send someone to pick her up and bring her to us. Once the door to Kayla's room closes behind me, the peacefulness I was feeling is replaced with apprehension. I am excited that Sean was able to get Fallon Moody to fill in for Rocky. I’ve heard this guy’s name around, and it was always in a positive way, but just the fact that we have to temporarily replace Rocky doesn’t sit right with me.
Four hours later, Fallon and the band are playing as one unit. The five of us—Rocky, Tim, Neal, Michael, and I—have been playing together for so long we don’t have to talk about what needs to be done; we just do it without thinking. We’re in sync with each other, second nature if you want to call it something, and it takes a bit for
Fallon to fall into rhythm with us.
Sean, Fallon, and I are about to discuss travel plans when Kayla finally arrives. Fallon’s wife, Jenna, has been quiet all through rehearsals, but the minute she sees Kayla, she is anything but. Screams fill the stage. “Oh, my God! Oh, my God, you’re Kayla Marshall! ” Jenna flies out of her seat and runs across the stage to Kayla quicker than the Tasmanian Devil in the cartoons I watched as a kid.
I watch and listen as Kayla and Jenna interact with each other for a few moments, tuning out the discussion going on between Fallon and Sean. It’s when I hear Jenna mention something about traveling together that I am quickly snapped back into the present. I must have heard her wrong. There’s absolutely no way that’s going to happen.
“Sean, I need a moment with you right now!” I motion for him to join me backstage. “What the hell is Jenna talking about with Kayla? Since when is she joining us? I thought it was just Fallon.”
“Yeah, about that. It's last minute, CJ. We don’t have a lot of options, and Fallon is good, really good, and we need someone with his talents. He’s on board to uproot himself for the next three to four weeks and be available immediately, but he just found out his wife is expecting and won’t leave her behind. So the agreement is she can join him.”
It takes everything I have to keep my shit together right now. “I don’t care if Fallon is God’s gift to the world. We don’t need a pregnant woman on our bus. Christ, Sean, it’s cramping our style enough having Kayla on board, and now you want to add another woman—hell, not just any woman, but a pregnant woman—to the mix?”
Something tells me I will lose this battle before Sean even opens his mouth to reply, but when he does, the harsh reality of his words cement our future. Either I’m on board with this, or we kiss our careers good-bye. “Fine, Sean, I just want it on record that I think this is a really bad idea.”