Lead Player: An Everyday Heroes World Novel (The Everyday Heroes World)

by Alex Grayson

  “You sure you’re ready for that?” I ask my long-time friend.

  He blows out a tired breath. “More than ready. I hate being away from Melody and Lucy when we’re out on the road. I’ve missed way too much of Lucy’s life already.”

  He’s a bigger man than me. I’m not sure I’d have the will to leave my wife and child at home.

  “You do what you have to do, man. Phenix will survive no matter what you decide. And I’m sure the guys will understand.”

  “I’m just glad we have a long break before the next tour. I plan to do some soul searching.”

  The door opens and Max Tanner strolls in. He and Bennett Down own Tanner Down Music. Phenix owes a lot to them for taking a chance on us, especially Max. He went up against his business partner when Bennett wanted nothing to do with us. Max can be a hard ass, which I expect nothing less from the people in this industry, but thankfully, he’s pretty much left us with creative freedom.

  Grabbing my notebook, Trey and I get up from the couch and approach him.

  With his hands stuffed in his pockets, he looks at each of us. “I’ve got a guy coming in later I want you all to meet. He’s a potential replacement for Enzo.” A couple of the guys groan and he holds up his hand. “Chill the hell out. I said I wanted you to meet him. Let him play a few songs with you, see how it goes.”

  According to the contract we signed years ago, Phenix has the final say on any replacements if one of us chose to leave the band. With Trey’s reluctance to leave his family behind and my own reservations of having this type of life, we were stringent on that one part. None of us wanted to be saddled with some asshole we couldn’t get along with.

  “I thought we went over this already?” Dixon speaks up. “We want Rocky as a replacement.”

  Rocky Monroe is an old friend of ours we met on our first tour. Up until a year ago, he was lead guitarist for The Swinners. The record label booted him when he went off the rails from drugs and anger issues. He’s been in rehab and anger management for the last six months and seems to be doing a lot better. Underneath all the rock star façade, Rocky is actually a decent guy. The lifestyle got to him and made him jaded.

  “Yes, I know this, but I’m not sure Rocky is a good fit. I worry bringing him back into this type of environment might set him off again.”

  “Fair point,” Seth says with a nod. “But I know the man well enough to say he’s on the straight road now. Losing his spot in The Swinners rocked him real good. Music is his life, and I know he won’t fuck up again.”

  Max sighs, dropping his head. “Just give this new guy a chance, will you? I think you’ll all like him. He’s a damn good guitarist. We’re lucky no one’s snatched him up before now. If you’re still adamant about Rocky afterward, I’ll fly out and talk to him myself.”

  Still looking wary, all of the guys nod. Since I’m no longer part of the band, I get no say so, but I think it was a good idea they agreed to at least hear the new guy.

  Max turns to me. “I looked over the work you sent me, and I like where you’re heading with it. What else you got?”

  Going to my bag, I pull out several folders and pass them around to everyone. After going over my vision, I slowly get nods of approval.

  “Damn, Enzo,” Trey says, his brows jumping higher as he reads over the lyrics. “This shit has got to be one of your best.”

  “It’s still not finished. I want to tweak it a little, but you should get the gist of it enough to start working on it.”

  “This needs to be put in the upcoming album,” Owen inserts, still looking over the lyrics. “This shit is number one hit material.”

  “Agreed. Which means you need to get it done and back to the guys within a few weeks,” Max instructs.

  I nod.

  Over the next few hours, the guys jump in the sound booth and practice some of the songs that’ll be on the next album. Although it’s weird being on this side of the glass, it’s also pretty fucking nice. Less pressure.

  By the end of the session, the guys are very impressed with Max’s new guy, Dean, and agreed to let him come back for a couple more sessions. I have to admit, the guy was damn good and seemed to be a natural.

  After saying goodbye to everyone, I’m ready to get the fuck out of here. Alaina and I have plans tonight, and I’m impatient to get them started. It’s been a little over a week since the wedding and we’ve spent three of those nights together. The woman has me hooked; like a junky on meth.

  Just as I climb into my car, my phone rings. I swipe across the screen at the same time I close the car door.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  A loud crash followed by Mom’s muttered “You little shit” is my greeting.

  I crack a smile. Mom likes to scold her kids on cursing, but she’s the worst of us all.

  “Everything alright over there?” I ask, resting a wrist on the steering wheel.

  “Oh, hey, honey. I didn’t hear you pick up,” she answers chirpily, sounding out of breath. “Just this bastard cat your father brought home. I swear she’s worse than having a toddler.”

  “Why did Dad bring a cat home?”

  “Found it on the side of the road. You know how much of a sucker he is when it comes to animals. I was fine until she started getting into my devil’s ivy. The fiend is going to have to go if she keeps it up.”

  I keep my laugh to myself. There’s not a chance in hell Lucinda Bishop will get rid of the cat. She harps on Dad being a lightweight when it comes to helpless animals, but she’s just as bad. I’m sure the next time we talk she’ll be praising and gushing over their new pet.

  “Anywho, I didn’t call to talk about the dad-blasted feline. Your dad and I are taking a trip over that way soon and wanted to make sure you’d be in town.”

  Mom and Dad moved to Arizona to be with my grandmother several years ago. Her health was declining fast, and Mom wanted to be with her the last few years of her life. She passed three years ago, but my parents never moved back.

  “You know I will. I’m not with Phenix anymore. That means no more touring.”

  She snorts. “I know you said you were going to leave the band, but for some reason you never called to tell me you actually did.”

  Mom’s always been a huge supporter of Phenix, but she understands my need to back away from them.

  I grimace. I’ve been so caught up with getting shit done regarding my departure from Phenix, James and Juliet’s wedding, and now Alaina, that I forgot to call my parents to tell them the good news.

  “Sorry,” I mutter. “It’s done. I’m free now.”

  “How does it feel?”

  “Like a huge weight is lifted off my shoulders. Like I can move forward with my life.”

  “And does moving forward include a girl?” she asks, her voice full of curiosity.

  “I see you’ve been talking to Allison.” I keep my tone light, despite the irritation I feel toward my sister.

  “Well, I’ve got to hear it from somebody, right? Since you don’t seem to want to keep me in the loop anymore.”

  “Mom.” I massage my aching head. “I didn’t—”

  “Just stop, Enzo. I get it, okay? I know about your… sexual exploits, and the last thing you want to do is talk to your mom about them.”

  I choke out a laugh. “Sexual exploits? Jesus, Mom.” Uncomfortable with the subject, I run my hand over the back of my head. “What in the hell do you know about shit like that?”

  “Son, I’m not dead. For your information, your dad and I are very active sexual exploitees,” she huffs.

  I don’t know if I should be mortified we’re even talking about this or laugh because of her word choice. Sexual exploitee? Is that even a thing?

  “Okay, we are not talking about you and Dad having sex. Not now, not ever.” I shudder. “And Alaina is not a sexual exploit.”

  “Alaina. That’s her name?”

  “Yes.”

  “I like it.” She pauses. “I still get it though. Why you did
n’t tell us. You know how much your dad and I want you to settle down, get married, and have kids. You want to make sure it works out first before you say anything.”

  Leaning my head on the cool glass, I close my eyes. Guilt tightens the muscles in my chest.

  Mom’s harped on me for years about finding a good woman to marry and have children with. I haven’t told her yet that there’s a possibility the children part might never happen. The only breaks I got from her incessant badgering was while I was on tour. And that was only because she didn’t want me marrying a groupie. Hot anger builds in my stomach when the image of a blonde-haired bitch with deceiving blue eyes comes to mind. Mom has no idea how close I came to marrying a groupie.

  As soon as I touched back into town after a tour, Mom was always back to the pestering. Didn’t matter if I would be leaving my wife and kid behind to go back out on the road. She wanted that connection for me.

  God love the woman, and so do I, but her nagging causes my head to pound.

  “Just promise, if you two are still together when your dad and I come for a visit, you’ll bring her by so we can meet her.”

  “I can’t make that promise. It’s not my decision to make.”

  Would Alaina want to meet my parents? She was reluctant to meet my sister at first, but she got over it quickly. Meeting the parents is different than meeting a sibling.

  “You could always trick her into it. You know, not tell her we’re there and invite her over.”

  I laugh. “I’m not doing that to Alaina. She’d have my balls in a vice grip before the end of the night.”

  “Fine,” she grumbles.

  There’s another loud crash in the background. “Oh, no you don’t, you little witch!” Mom shouts, nearly piercing my eardrum. “You stay away from my yucca plant!” Her breath puffs over the speaker. “I gotta let you go so I can go strangle your dad. I’ll talk to you later about coming to visit. Love you.”

  Before I can say the words back, she shouts something else to the cat and the line goes dead. With a chuckle, I toss my phone in the small cubby hole underneath the stereo.

  The woman is certifiable, but she’s my mom. You love them no matter how crazy they are.

  Starting my car, I back out of the parking space and leave the lot, eager to get to Alaina’s house.

  Chapter Thirteen

  ALAINA

  I feel like death. Not just regular death. But something that’s been dead for weeks and is now rotting away.

  Bending over the toilet, I hack up the rest of breakfast, surprised there’s any left to come up. After flushing the toilet for what has to be the tenth time, I rest my forehead on my arm that’s wrapped around the toilet. I’m sweaty, my mouth is disgusting, and my stomach still rumbles uneasily.

  I don’t think I’ve ever felt so sick in my life. I want to crawl back to my bed and sleep for a week, but every time I go to do just that, my stomach purges itself again.

  I groan, resigned to sleep right here on the toilet. At this point, I really don’t care.

  Knocking comes from the front door, and I crack open my eyes to look into the hallway. Enzo. He was supposed to come over after his time at Tanner Down. There’s not a chance in hell I’ll make it to the door. I’m not sure I want him to see me like this anyway, so a part of me wishes he’ll leave when I don’t answer. The pathetic part of me wants him to walk in and find me. To take care of me.

  God, I’m so pitiful.

  The knocking comes again. I reach for my phone to call him, but realize I left it on my nightstand the last time I had to run to the bathroom.

  Just great.

  I tilt my head, listening for another knock, but it doesn’t come. He left. I don’t know why, but that knowledge brings tears to my eyes.

  What the hell is wrong with you, Alaina?

  I don’t need anyone to take care of me. I need to grow some lady balls and do it myself. I’ve totally got this.

  When I push up from the toilet, I realize how wrong I am. I really, really don’t have this. Another wave of nausea hits, and I start dry heaving. Guess the last batch that came up really was the rest of my breakfast.

  My throat burns and tears sting my eyes. I need some water to clean out the bile coating my throat, but the sink is too far away on the other side of the room.

  I’m attempting to crawl across the floor when I hear footsteps coming up behind me.

  “Fuck, Alaina!” Enzo’s rough tone is a balm to my ears.

  Getting to his knees beside me, he lifts me up so I’m sitting on my ass. I tilt my head back and look at him with bleary eyes.

  “I’m sick,” I croak.

  “You think?” he rumbles. “What the hell is wrong with you?” He pushes my sweaty hair back from my face with a frown. “Shit, you’re burning up.”

  “How did you get into my apartment?”

  “I jimmied the lock with a credit card.”

  Wrapping an arm around my shoulders and the other under my legs, he hoists me up from the floor. Despite my sweaty face, messy hair, and foul mouth, I snuggle against his chest. For the first time in what feels like forever, moving doesn’t bring on the need to hurl.

  Blessed cool sheets meet my heated flesh when he lays me down. I automatically roll to my side. Laying this way helps when the nausea hits.

  Enzo leaves and goes back to the bathroom, and I close my tired eyes. A moment later, the bed dips when he sits by my hip. I moan as a cool rag is placed over my forehead. It feels like heaven.

  “Why didn’t you call me?”

  I open my eyes and see his blurry form, his own filled with concern.

  “I couldn’t.” I clear my throat when the words come out scratchy. “I couldn’t make it back to the bedroom where my phone was.”

  Slipping an arm underneath my shoulders, he lifts me up and brings a glass of cold water to my lips.

  Holy crap. Has water ever tasted so good?

  “You look terrible,” he comments unnecessarily. I know how bad I must look. “I think we may need to take you to the hospital.”

  “No,” I mumble. “It’s just a stomach bug or something. A friend of mine had it a couple days ago. I was around her yesterday.”

  I’m going to kill Samantha for giving me her cooties.

  He looks doubtful, but after a minute, he nods. “We need to get some meds into you. That fever needs to come down.”

  “Medicine cabinet above the sink. There should be something there.”

  Before I can stop him, he leans down and kisses my forehead, then gets up to grab the medicine.

  “You can’t be doing that,” I tell him once he’s back.

  “Doing what?” He cracks open the bottle of medicine and pours a couple tablets into his palm.

  “Kiss me. First, gross. I’m all nasty and sweaty. And second, I don’t want to get you sick.”

  Again, he helps me to sit up so I can take the pills. “You don’t worry about me.”

  Rolling my eyes, I take the pills and pop them in my mouth, then take a sip of the water he holds to my lips.

  I settle back down onto the sheets and he places the wet rag on my forehead again.

  “This came on quick. You were fine when I talked to you this morning, weren’t you?”

  “Yeah. It started about an hour after we hung up, and it came on fast.”

  He strokes my cheek, his expression tender. “Try to get some sleep. I’ll have some soup ready for you when you wake up.”

  Even the thought of food turns my stomach, but I know I need to eventually eat. Thankfully the water hasn’t tried to make a reappearance, which could be a good sign.

  With a nod, I close my eyes, and before I know it, I drift off to sleep.

  Careful, so as not to disturb my sour stomach, I roll to my other side. My cheek hits something moist and kinda rough. I slit open my eyes and slant them to my pillow. Using my thumb and pointer finger, I grab one of the corners of the small terry cloth material to throw it on the nightstand when my
eyes land on an unopened bottle of water. Seeing it, I swallow, and I’m reminded of how dry and scratchy my throat is.

  After mangling the top off the water with sleep hands—you know when you wake up and your hands are so weak you can’t grip anything?—I manage to sit up enough to take a few swallows. Thankfully, my stomach doesn’t revolt with the movement or liquid.

  Feeling optimistic, I decide to try to sit up. I’m just starting to push my pillow against the headboard when Enzo walks in the room.

  “Don’t move,” he orders, rounding my side of the bed and setting a tray down on the nightstand.

  Even with my mind half-delirious, my body reacts to seeing him. He has on a pair of black cargo pants and a dark grey button up shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. His hair is just how I like it. Sexily messy.

  After he adjusts the pillows and helps me lean back against them, he sits on the side of the bed by my hip.

  “How are you feeling?” he asks, pressing the back of his hand to my forehead. “You don’t feel as hot as you were, so your fever has gone down.”

  I press a hand to my abdomen and take a moment to answer. “I think I’m okay. My stomach hurts, but I think it’s just sore muscles from all the puking I did. At the moment, my stomach has settled.”

  Relief hits his face. Enzo has been a Godsend since I got sick. I remember a couple of different times waking up with the need to vomit. I was so weak there was no way I would have made it to the toilet in time. He just scooped me up in his strong arms and carried me to the bathroom, holding my hair back and speaking soothing words to me while rubbing my back. Had I been in the right frame of mind I would have been horrified to have him see me like that, but I was glad he was there.

  “I made some soup. Want to see if you can handle some of it? You need to put something in your stomach.”

  “Yeah,” I say croakily, my throat still sore.