“Because you were afraid I was going to lose it and start abusing oxy again.” It’s not a question, but a matter-of-fact statement.
“Yes. That.” I peer up into his green eyes, so like my own, and see understanding tinged with frustration.
“You gotta stop worrying about me. I know you count my beers and are afraid that I’m going to trip during a party and accidentally snort up a line of coke, but I know my limits.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I stopped counting a while back. Besides, you worry about me, too. If you recall, I’m here”—I stretch out my arms—“because you were afraid that Marrow would come after me.”
“And I was right to be afraid because he did,” Davis replies smugly.
“Can you not with the ‘I told you so?’” I say. “Anyway, I’m sorry.”
“Why? Because you fell in love? I’m sorry you felt like you had to hide it from me. I didn’t want you to get hurt, you know?” He swings an arm around my neck and pulls me close.
“I know. You were watching out for me, like you always do. I appreciate that.”
“See, the problem is now I wonder if Adam’s making decisions he’s going to regret later because of you. Like selling the song.”
“I don’t see Adam doing anything with his music that he doesn’t want to do.”
“True.”
“Besides, this is your band, too. You’re a family, as he likes to say. You’re going to be making decisions together.” He scrubs his knuckles across the top of my head. I kick him in the shin to make him release me.
He laughs as I try to press my staticky hair into some semblance of order. Stupid big brothers.
“So where do we go from here?” he says.
“Are you okay with Adam and me as a couple?” My hope is tinged with worry. Part of me can’t believe all that has happened—not just the Marrow thing, but Adam saying he loves me. If Davis said he wasn’t okay with all of this, I wouldn’t be able to give Adam up. Not at this point so I really need him to be on board.
“Is that what you are?”
“I think so.” Davis arches an eyebrow. Okay, that’s stupid. We confessed we loved each other right in front of him. I take a deep breath. “Yes. We are. He wants me to stay for the rest of the tour. So even if you’re not okay with it, will you please try to work through this because I’m not giving Adam up.”
“What if I demand it?”
“Why would you do that?” I cry. “And, no. Even if you demanded it.”
“Even if I started using again?”
I punch him in the arm. He yelps.
“Stop being a smart ass,” I glower.
He smirks. “Sorry. Couldn’t help it. Look, I don’t care if you’re with Adam. I want you to be happy. All I ask is that you keep your sex stuff to yourself and no cooking.”
“I don’t want you to know about my sex stuff. Gross.” The thought of having sex with Davis a few feet away is never going to sit right with me. I nearly died in the bathroom when he came in. Talk about a lady boner killer. “But I am going to learn to cook.”
“Really?” Both eyebrows shoot up.
“Okay, maybe not,” I concede. I have no burning desire to do that, but it’s something I can tease Davis about.
“If you do, I’m voting you off the island. I’m going to get a cup of coffee. What do you want?” He reaches over to give me another irritating pat on the head, but I duck out of the way.
“Ham or turkey and a Coke.”
He gives me a thumbs-up and ambles off to get us some food.
My purse buzzes. I pull out my phone and see that Detective Pressley is calling. Her name sends a shiver of unease down my spine, but I answer instead of avoiding her.
“Hello, Detective Pressley.”
“Landry, how are you?”
“I’m fine.”
“Good. No injuries?”
“Do you already know about Marrow?”
“Indeed, I do.” She sounds immensely cheerful. “I even have pictures of your handiwork.”
I grimace. “Am I going to jail for that?” I ask, thinking about Davis’s stint in the slammer.
“No. It’s a clear case of self-defense. No one will be charging you with anything, although an officer will be coming by to take your statement at some point. Where are you?”
“At the hospital.”
“And how’s your friend?”
“Good. The knife didn’t hit anything serious so he’s going to have a painful recovery but he should be fine. He’s very excited about the dope scar he’s going to have.”
Pressley laughs merrily. I pull the phone away from my head and stare at it. This is wildly out of character for her.
“Who’s that?” Davis asks, joining me with a tray full of food and drink.
“It’s Pressley,” I mouth and put the phone back to my ear.
Davis sets the tray and crosses his arms. A frown creases his forehead. I’m sure I look exactly that befuddled.
“I like his attitude,” she’s saying. “In any event, I wanted to let you know that Marrow is being booked for attempted homicide, violating his probation, and felony assault. Because he’s across state lines in violation of his probation, he’ll be sent back to jail immediately. He will await trial inside and will have to serve out his original sentence, in full, as well as any other time for the attempted homicide. It sounds like the defense lawyer is already trying to get him to agree to a plea deal which could carry a ten-year sentence.”
“He shouldn’t even be out,” I growl.
She immediately grows serious. “I know, Landry. The laws around stalking are terrible, but the good thing is that he’s going away for a long time.”
“I hope he gets some treatment inside. Some therapy so that when he gets out, he doesn’t do the same thing.”
Pressley is silent a bit too long before she sighs. “The system isn’t perfect.”
“Sorry. None of this is your fault. Thank you for calling me.”
She sighs. “Be well, Landry. I think this chapter of your life is over. Anyway, I called to let you know that a review of Marrow’s cellphone reveals that he had contact with someone in your band and informed Marrow of your whereabouts.”
“In my band? In FMK?” I can’t believe it. No one in FMK would do that to me. My mind skips back to the first conversation I had with Berry. She warned me about Hollister. How he didn’t like women with the band. Had he heard that Adam wanted me to continue to travel with them?
“A male named Albert Buchourd. He’s five feet ten inches tall. Has a full sleeve of SpongeBob tattoos on the right arm.”
“I know him.” I cut her off. The Fat Albert makes sense now. “Everyone calls him Albie.”
“Well, Good. I wanted you to know. Forewarned is forearmed. I’ve got to run. Call me if you need anything,” she says.
“Thanks,” I manage to say as I lower the phone to the table.
“What’d she say?” Davis asks impatiently.
“She says that Marrow’s being sent back to prison for violating his parole and he’ll have to serve out the rest of his sentence as well as whatever term he gets for stabbing Rudd.”
Davis grunts in satisfaction. “Finally.”
“He’ll be out in ten years or something like that.”
“But you know how to fight him off now. That was badass, Landry. Proud of you.”
When I don’t immediately join in his laughter, his grin falters. “What’s wrong?”
“Pressley said that a male named Albert Bouchard contacted Marrow. Told him where I was.”
“What?” he shouts. A few people clear their throats. Loud voices are apparently looked down on in the hospital cafeteria. He abandons the tray and drags me out into the hall. “Is that Albie?”
“Yup.”
His eyes narrow. “What exactly did she say?”
“That he had contact with Marrow and let him know where I was.”
“Oh, that fucker is dead.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Pissant was jealous of our success.” He strides down the hall. I have to jog to keep up with him.
“Where are we going?”
“To get Adam. He’s smoking outside with Ian. Then we’re going over to TA and beat the shit out of Albie.”
“You can’t do that.”
“Why the hell not?” he asks as we near the exterior doors.
“Because you might break your hand again.”
“Then I’ll beat him with the mic stand.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Adam
“Oh, he’s a dead man,” I declare the second after Davis finishes telling me how Marrow found us in Phoenix.
“Can we just shelve the beating for now? Haven’t you both got it out of your system?” Landry asks.
“No,” both Davis and I say at the same time.
I pull out my phone and dial Hollister’s number. “Yo, Holly. Where is Threat Alert right now?”
“Right now?” he asks. “I have no idea. They finished their set about forty minutes ago.”
“But they’re at the venue, right?”
“I suppose. The bus is. Why? And how’s Rudd, anyway?”
“He’s going to be fine. You need to find Albie and make sure he doesn’t leave.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because Albie is the one who ran his mouth to Marrow.”
“Oh shit,” he curses. “Adam, you cannot beat him up. I’ve got three months left on this tour. We can’t lose the headliner.”
“Guess what? We’re not playing either.”
“Why? You can get a session guitarist to fill in for Rudd. You just said he was fine.”
“No, I said he was going to be fine.” I hang up. There’s no point in talking with Hollister any longer. “Albie’s at the venue. They finished about an hour ago, but the bus is still there.”
“Let’s go.” Davis has a car service app pulled up on his phone.
Landry snatches the phone away. “Both of you have to promise that you’re not going to beat him up, threaten him, or do anything other than make sure he stays in one place until the police arrive.”
“What exact crime do you think Albie is going to be arrested for?” I ask, trying not to let my frustration out.
“I don’t know. I’m not a cop.” She clasps her hands together. “But I do know that dumbass over here served fourteen days in jail because of assault. You guys go rushing over there to beat him up in front of thousands of people and you’re going to get more time than that. Plus, it’ll be Davis’s second charge. Let’s do something nonviolent, huh?”
Davis grabs the back of his neck and stalks off. She’s gotten to him. He wants to do something, but it’s hard to deny the truth of Landry’s words.
I stick my phone in my back pocket.
“All right. I don’t like not getting at least one punch in, but I’ll settle for ruining this dude’s life.”
“That’s the spirit,” she encourages, then frowns when she realizes what I just said. “How exactly are you going to ruin his life?”
“Make sure that he doesn’t play another note again. The music business is a small, small world, and this is one time I don’t mind using my connections to get some guy blackballed.”
“You should tell Keith first,” she advises.
“You okay with this?” I ask Davis. Landry’s his sister and I’m trying to be more open to others giving their opinions.
Jaw tight, he says, “It’s not my first choice, but if you can get him blackballed, I’m in.”
“It’s done.” I reach for my phone again and this time, I call my dad. “Hey, Dad. Adam here.”
* * *
We’re a tired group by the time Rudd gets discharged. We rent an Escalade to take him back to the bus. I wanted to fly him back to Central City, but the doctors thought it would be okay for him to ride in the bus, once they had a look at it.
“You going to be okay back here, buddy?” I ask.
“Keep the drugs coming and I’ll be great.” He tries to raise his thumbs, but in his drugged state, all his fingers wave in the air.
“But not too much,” Davis interjects.
“It’ll be the goldilocks of drug dosages,” I promise.
Rudd makes a big circular motion in Landry’s direction. “I know you’re taken but you’re still a girl. Come over here and hold my hand.”
Gingerly she crawls onto the big bed. Rudd settles his head on her lap immediately.
“Ahh,” he croons. “This is a hundred times better.”
She strokes his hair. I prop a shoulder against the doorframe and watch as the band all settles in around Rudd. Ian plops his ass on the end near Rudd’s feet. Davis takes up space against the wall opposite of me.
“How drugged up are you?” Davis asks.
Rudd makes a measurement with his thumb and forefinger. Squinting, he says, “Five?”
A round of chuckles ensue at this nonsense remark.
“What was Hollister shouting about back there?” Rudd asks, tipping his head to the side so Landry will scratch a different area. She obliges.
“Threat Alert broke up. Albie’s developed a bad coke habit. They’re shipping him off to a treatment center. With us gone and them broken up, Hollister doesn’t have a tour anymore.”
“Poor Holly,” Rudd says in a sing-song voice.
“He’ll be alright,” Landry soothes. “Guys like him always land on their feet.”
Isn’t that the truth.
“When we get home, can I meet May,” Rudd asks. “She sounds fun.”
“Eating snakes is fun?” I ask. Landry has been telling Rudd tales of her friend’s adventures to entertain him and now Rudd has a full-blown crush on this mystery woman.
“Yeah. And all those weeks riding ponies. Her thighs must be strong enough to crush steel.” He tries to waggle his eyebrows but fails miserably. He groans. “Give me another dose.”
“Not yet, sweetheart.”
Davis holds up a finger. “I’ve an idea. Be right back. Don’t move.”
“We’re on the bus, Davis. We can’t move,” I say.
“Technically, we’re in motion because the bus is,” Landry chirps.
God, I love her. I push away from the door. “Technically, I’m going to kiss—”
“Not in front of the brother,” Davis yells from down the hall.
Rudd taps Landry’s hand.
“Yes?” she says, peering down at him.
“You can kiss me. Davis said so.”
I burst out laughing. Rudd starts chuckling, too, but cuts himself off immediately.
“Oh, that hurts,” he says.
Davis soon reappears with two guitars—his and mine.
“Let’s play my song. I have an idea for the harmonies.”
I take my guitar and fit the drum against my stomach. “Lead the way.”
Davis perches on the side of the bed and starts strumming. I catch on immediately, and soon, we’re finding music magic.
Over Davis’s shoulder, I meet Landry’s eyes. They’re full of love and in them I see all the songs I have yet to write, the ones about our joys, our inevitable sorrows—but most importantly, the ones where we’re together.
Epilogue
Landry
Six Months Later
An hour out from the J’s Truck Plaza where we gassed up and stretched our legs, Ed pulls the bus over to the side of the road.
“What’s wrong?” Davis yells.
“We’re out of gas,” Ed yells back in disbelief.
“Out of gas?” Adam echoes.
I stare down at my cards because just the sound of his voice is enough to make me squeeze my legs together. It’s been far too long since I’ve had my hands on him and sitting so close is killing me.
Sex is out of the question so long as Davis is within hearing distance. I just can’t do it. It’s like listening to your parents have sex. I wouldn’t want that, and
I’m not going to subject my poor brother to that kind of familial torture. But my self-imposed rules have left me anxious. It’s probably best that Adam’s not within ten feet of me.
I keep wanting to launch myself into his arms.
Ed heaves himself out of the driver’s seat and ambles toward us. “Best I can figure out, but I’ve popped the hood. I’ll check it out and let you know.”
Adam tosses his cards face down. “I’ll go with you.”
“Me, too,” Davis declares.
Ian shrugs but follows silently behind. I send an inquiring glance in Rudd’s direction.
“I don’t know shit about vehicles,” he says in answer to my unstated question. He discards a six and gestures for me to deal him a new card. I flip over a jack.
“Nineteen.” He holds up his hand. “I’ll stay.”
I look down at my own cards. An ace and a five. Shit. I’m going to have to take a hit. I flip over the next card and sigh when I see it’s an eight.
“Bust,” he crows and rakes in the kitty.
I eye the bag of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups with envy. “I’ll give you ten dollars for the Reese’s.”
Since I haven’t been able to have more than a furtive, unfulfilling, over-the-clothes groping session with Adam since I met up with the band four hours ago, I’m in a desperate state that only sex or chocolate will appease.
Rudd waggles a finger at me. “You know the rules. No money. What else you have to offer?”
I mentally review my carryon. I’m traveling light because we leave for Edinburgh from Houston—if we ever get to Houston. “I have a mini bag of Doritos from the airport.”
For a moment, I think I’ve struck a bargain, but his excited expression quickly transforms into one of suspicion. “Oh no. The last time I bargained with you, I got a half empty bag of M&Ms. How many chips are left?”
I blink rapidly, attempting to convey innocence. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“The hell you don’t—”
“We’re out of gas. Ed thinks that there might be a hole in the tank,” Davis interrupts. “I volunteered to hitch to the nearest gas station. Want to come?”
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