“Hi Lindsey,” he said.
“Hey,” I replied. “What happened?”
“Let’s go sit down,” he replied, leading me over to some chairs in the waiting room. We sat down and he took a deep breath.
“The details still seem to be shaky, but it appears Cane took a motorcycle and drove a little fast. I’m guessing he was high or drunk—maybe even both. Witnesses say he lost control of the bike and crashed.”
“Oh my God,” I whispered, my eyes filling with tears. “Is he okay?”
Diesel shrugged, his own eyes wet with tears. “Not sure. He’s still alive, but he’s in surgery to fix some internal bleeding or some shit. He had a helmet on; otherwise he’d be dead. He’s pretty banged up.”
“Did you see him?” I asked, my heart pounding.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice breaking with emotion. I reached out and touched his leg. “He looked terrible.”
His phone rang then and he glanced at it. “I have to take this,” he said, standing up to answer.
I leaned back in my chair, my whole body trembling. I made a vow that, if Cane woke up, I would forgive him for this wife bullshit. Maybe we could figure this out if we gave things a chance. I just prayed that it wasn’t too late.
Chapter Six
Cane
I had the strangest dream. In my dream, Lindsey was talking to me. Maybe Drew had dumped her ass. It would serve her right. I couldn’t always make out what she was saying, but she seemed to cry a lot. It pissed me off that she was invading my dreams too. For whatever reason, I couldn’t get away from that woman if I tried.
In one of my dreams, I woke up in a hospital. It must have been in the middle of the night, because it was dark in the room—so dark it took me awhile to figure out I was in the hospital. The monitor next to me and the IV in my arm clued me into where I was.
Diesel was snoring in a chair in the corner. I winced when I tried to sit up. Man, for a dream, this was awfully real. I felt like I had been run over by a freight train. I tried to move my legs and freaked out when they didn’t do anything. I tried again, but I felt nothing. I reached under the covers and pinched my thigh and began to panic when I didn’t feel a thing. “What the hell?” I muttered. What the fuck was wrong with my legs? This was a goddamn nightmare. I willed myself to wake up.
“You’re awake!” Diesel said, waking from his nap.
“What the fuck do you mean? I’m having a fucking nightmare. I can’t feel my legs, man,” I said.
Diesel sat up and leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees. He rubbed his face with both hands and sighed. “You’re not dreaming, Cane. You’re in the hospital.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“You were in a motorcycle accident. You’ve been asleep for almost a week. We were worried you weren’t going to make it.” He got up and stood next to the bed.
His words triggered a flood of memories. I remembered going to some party and getting fucked up quickly. I took whatever drugs people handed me and drank a lot of whiskey.
“Where did I get a bike? All of my cycles are at home.” See, this was further proof that it was just a dream. At least that’s what I told myself.
“You stole one from someone at the party,” he said, with a slight shake of his head.
I leaned my head back against the pillow and closed my eyes. I remembered it all now. I was all fucked up at the party and decided I was going to find Drew to kick his ass for sleeping with Lindsey. When I stumbled out of the door, someone was arriving on a bike and I pushed him off of it before jumping on and taking off. The last thing I remembered was speeding down the road. Fuck.
“I brought you some coffee. Oh fuck, he’s awake.”
I opened my eyes when I heard her voice. There in the doorway stood Lindsey with a coffee in each hand. Even in the dim lighting of the hospital, she looked sexy in her yoga pants. She walked slowly into the room, and I noticed she was wearing her Hookers and Hand Grenades t-shirt too. God, I loved her in that shirt.
As much as she was a sight for sore eyes, I didn’t want her in my room, not until I figured out why the fuck I couldn’t feel my legs. I looked over at Diesel. “I want her out,” I muttered, hoping she wouldn’t hear me.
“Cane, I’m so glad you’re awake,” she said before he could respond. She came up next to the bed and reached out to touch my head. I jerked back, instantly regretting it when I saw the look of pain come over her face.
“Please leave,” I said, turning to her.
“But why?” She asked, a look of confusion filling her green eyes.
“Just go,” I said through clenched teeth. “I don’t want to see you right now.”
She looked over at Diesel and he nodded. “I’m sorry, but it’s best if you go.”
“Cane,” she pleaded. If she started crying, I was going to lose it.
“Get the fuck out of my room!” I yelled and threw the remote from the table near me across the room. “Now!” I roared, and my heart monitor started to beep like crazy from my increased heart rate.
A nurse rushed into the room. “What’s going on here?” She looked around. “Mr. Stephens, you’re awake. Let me get the doctor.”
No one said a word as she left the room. Lindsey grabbed her coat from the chair and fled without another word. When she was finally out of sight, I relaxed. “Keep her out of here. I don’t want to see her.”
“Okay, man,” he nodded. “But she’s been here since the beginning, barely leaving your side.”
“I don’t care. She doesn’t need to see me like this, and it’s none of her business, anyway.”
Before he could protest further, a team of doctors and nurses entered the room to check on me now that I was awake. As they poked and prodded me, the only thing I could think of was the look on Lindsey’s face when I yelled at her to leave. She had looked so hurt, and she didn’t really deserve to be treated like that.
I still couldn’t believe she had stayed here at the hospital this whole time. After the way we ended things, she had no reason to put her life on hold and wait for me. Maybe she did care about me more than I thought.
It didn’t matter now, anyway. I couldn’t feel my legs, and who knows what the future holds for me, if anything. My music career could be over if I couldn’t walk again. She wouldn’t want to be with me then—no woman would. I had nothing to offer anyone if I wasn’t a rock god.
When the doctor checked my legs, I tried not to let on that I couldn’t feel anything, but he could tell something was wrong.
“Can you feel this?” He asked as he poked around on my leg.
I looked over at Diesel, who was watching intently. What would he think when he realized his lead singer couldn’t feel his legs?
“Mr. Stephens?” The doctor asked.
I turned back to him. “No, I can’t,” I mumbled.
“What the fuck, man?” Diesel said with a gasp. “You can’t feel your legs?”
“No, I can’t fucking feel my legs, asshole,” I said. “Maybe you should leave too. There’s no reason for you to stay.”
He stared at me and didn’t say anything at first. “You’re my best friend, man. I’m not going anywhere.” He stood firmly next to me, and I was glad he saw through my bullshit. We’d been together since we were kids, and I was thankful he was with me.
The next hour was spent listening to doctors talk about my diagnosis and tests they wanted to run and a whole bunch of other bullshit. I wasn’t really listening to them. I knew all I needed to know—I couldn’t feel my legs, and I couldn’t walk. I thought I heard one of them say something about swelling on the spine, and maybe in time I would regain sensation. It all seemed like a lot of ‘what ifs.’
They finally left the room, and Diesel scrubbed his face with his hand. “I have no doubt you’ll walk again. You’re too damn stubborn not to.”
“I don’t know,” I said with a shake of my head. I wasn’t as optimistic.
“You just gotta have faith
, dude,” he said, leaning forward in his chair.
I snorted. “You should know better than anyone that faith is the last thing I have—in anyone or anything.”
He sighed and stood up to stretch. “I need to go have a smoke. Anything I can get you?”
“Some whiskey and a few chicks,” I said dryly. Then I wondered if I could even get it up if I couldn’t feel my legs. I reached under the covers and grabbed my dick hard. I winced with relief; at least that still worked.
“Right,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “Why don’t you get some rest?”
“Don’t tell the other guys about my legs yet, okay?” I said. I wasn’t ready to let everyone know I was a washed up rock star who couldn’t walk.
“You know they’re worried about you too,” he said. “I can’t lie to them.”
“Please,” I pleaded. “Just a little bit longer.”
“Fine,” he agreed. “But you can’t wait too long to tell them.”
“I won’t, I promise.” Maybe I would magically get better and never have to tell them.
He walked to the door. “Okay, I’ll be back.”
“Diesel,” I said, stopping him before he left.
“What’s up?” He asked.
“Thanks for being here,” I said. It was hard for me to let any feelings show; but if anyone deserved to know, it was him. We had been there for each other through a lot of shit, and I couldn’t ask for a better best friend.
“Anytime,” he said with a small smile and left the room, shutting the door behind him.
I leaned back and put my head on the pillow with a sigh. I looked out the window at the Vegas night sky and, even from the hospital bed, I could see the lit-up city. I should be out there fucking anything wearing a skirt and partying; I shouldn’t be here in the hospital, not sure if I would ever walk again.
I banged my fist down on the bed. This was all Lindsey’s fault! My life was fine before she came along. I was living the dream—singing to screaming fans almost every night and getting pussy anytime I wanted it.
Then she had entered my life, and now she was all I could think about. She had fucked up my mind so bad I didn’t know how to party anymore. I always knew my limits and rarely did I push them; I wasn’t a total idiot. I had heard the horror stories about up-and-coming bands that let fame and fortune go to their heads, only to ruin it all by partying too hard. I had even met a few of them on my journey to the top, and I always vowed I wouldn’t let the same thing happen to me.
But here I was. I was sitting in a hospital bed because of a chick. Because of her, I had gone out and gotten all fucked up so I could forget. I wanted to forget how she looked when she smiled at me and how sweet her kisses were. I wanted to forget how good it felt to be buried deep inside her while she moaned and arched beneath me.
It was a good thing I was bedridden right now, because I wanted to punch the hell out of someone or something. I wasn’t going to let that bitch ruin everything I had worked so hard for. The next time a doctor came in here, I was going to listen to what he had to say and do whatever it took to walk again.
I was going to show her there was no way she could keep me down. I would come back bigger and better than ever. And when I did, I wouldn’t let any woman get close to me. If people thought I had used women before, wait until the new Cane Stephens came back. He was going to make the old one look like Prince Charming.
I heard my phone ring nearby and managed to find it in one of the drawers near the bed. It was scratched to hell, and I couldn’t believe it had survived my crash. I pulled it out and snorted when I saw Lindsey’s name on the screen. She had a lot of nerve calling me after I had kicked her out of my room earlier.
I hit the ignore button on the phone and then turned it off. The first thing I would ask Diesel to do when he got back was to get me a new phone with a new number. I wanted to make sure she could never contact me again. After all, she was nothing but trouble.
Chapter Seven
Lindsey
“Did you hear me?” Drew asked over dinner a couple of nights after Cane had kicked me out of his hospital room.
“What?” I asked, breaking out of my trance. I had been thinking about the way Cane had looked at me with such contempt when he yelled at me to leave. I don’t think anyone’s words had ever hurt me so much. I sat in that room with him while he was unconscious and, when he woke up, all he could do was yell at me. What an asshole.
“I said that we go back on the road tomorrow.” He put his fork down and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “I’m ready to get out of this town. More than a few days in Vegas are too many.”
I nodded my agreement. When Cane had been hurt, the tour had halted until it was determined whether or not he could continue. I had heard the rumors about him not being able to walk and, when a fellow reporter told me this morning we were moving on without Hookers and Hand Grenades, the rumors were confirmed.
Throughout the day I heard people whispering about them finding a new lead singer, but Cane wasn’t someone who could be replaced quickly. Say what you want about his douchey personality, but he could sing. They weren’t even half the band without him, and it would require some pretty big shoes to take his place.
Drew reached across the table and grasped my arm. I looked down and fought back a sigh. We hadn’t slept together since that night, but it wasn’t for lack of trying on Drew’s part. He had put the moves on me more than once. I managed to convince him I needed some time to myself after everything that had gone on, but he hadn’t left my side while waiting for me to let him know I was ready for a relationship with him.
But that wasn’t going to happen. I was done with men in the music business. First there was Shaun and then Cane. Musicians were crazy, and I was getting too old for this shit. Sure, Drew wasn’t a musician, but he worked with them on a daily basis. That was close enough for me.
At one time, writing for Rolling Stone was my dream job. Now it was nothing but a nightmare. I was in talks with my old editor at a fashion magazine about going back when the tour was over. I would probably have to move to New York, too, but I didn’t care. Right now even moving back to Madison near my parents was more appealing than this roller coaster.
When dinner was over, we walked back to the hotel. Drew walked me back to my room and, as I turned to put my key in the door, he grabbed my arm.
“What do you say, Lindsey? I don’t want to go to bed alone tonight, and you look like you could use some comforting.” His eyelids were hooded slightly and his speech was slurred. I wasn’t surprised; he drank more than his fair share of the wine tonight. I only had half a glass so I wouldn’t get weak and let my defenses down. I didn’t make the best choices about men when I’d been drinking. Case in point: when I called Drew to my room, I had been pretty loaded.
“Drew,” I said firmly, pulling my arm away. “I have a headache and I’m tired. Thanks for dinner, but I want to take a long hot shower and go to bed.”
He scowled and stepped back. “I thought we had a good time, Lindsey. Why do you have to be such a cunt now?”
I winced at his words. “We did have a good time, but I told you I’m not ready to be with anyone right now. The last few days have been a whirlwind and I need some time alone.”
“Whatever. You don’t like me because I’m not a rock star. Well let me tell you, these rock stars wouldn’t be where they are now if not for me. There are plenty of women who would love to be with me. Your loss.” He turned on his heel and took off towards the elevator.
I unlocked the door with a shake of my head. I could add Drew to the growing list of men who were angry with me. I threw my purse on the bed and sat down with a sigh.
I may be a glutton for punishment, but I wanted to talk to Cane one more time—if he would even see me. Maybe he had pushed me away because he was scared about not being able to walk. If he saw I would be there for him, maybe he would be nicer.
I called down to the front desk and asked them to get me a ca
b. I would regret it if I left town without at least trying to talk to him. He consumed my every thought. In the dark of night in my hotel bed, I would remember the way his lips felt on my skin, and I touched myself until I gasped his name when I came. In the shower, I would cry about what had happened to him and the anger in his voice when he told me to leave. I wondered what he would do if he couldn’t be Cane Stephens, the lead singer of Hookers and Hand Grenades.
I went to the lobby of the hotel, hoping I didn’t run into Drew. The last thing I needed was for him to catch me going out when I had told him I wanted to take a long shower and go to bed. I managed to get into the cab without anyone seeing me. The closer I got to the hospital, the more I began to regret my decision to go. I must have been crazy to think he would suddenly want to see me.
The cab pulled up to the door and I paid the driver. As I was heading inside, a familiar voice called out to me. “I wouldn’t go in there if I were you.”
I stopped in my tracks as the sliding door opened and turned in the direction of the voice. There stood Cane’s best friend, Diesel, smoking a cigarette. He looked tired and stressed out.
“Hello, Diesel,” I said, walking over to him.
“Hi,” he said and took a long drag on his cigarette, his eyes never leaving mine. He blew out his smoke. “What brings you here? It can’t be to see Cane.”
“I wanted to see if he would talk to me.” I looked down. “The tour starts back up tomorrow.”
“I know,” he replied.
“Can you go ask him if he’ll talk to me?” I asked hopefully. I didn’t really want to talk about the fact that the tour was moving on without him. I’m sure it hurt, and he didn’t need it rubbed in his face.
“I can’t do that, baby,” he said, tossing his cigarette onto the ground and snuffing it out with this boot-clad foot.
“Why not?” I put my hands on my hips. It was one thing if Cane didn’t want to talk to me, but I would be damned if I was going to leave without Diesel asking him.
All I Need (Vol.2) Page 4