Gone for You (Sixth Street Band #1)

by Jayne Frost

  Gone for You

  by

  Jayne Frost

  ©2015 Jayne Frost

  This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution

  Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported License.

  Attribution--You must attribute the work in the manner specified by the author or licensor (but not in any way that suggests that they endorse you or your use of the work).

  Noncommercial--You may not use this work for commercial purposes.

  No Derivative Works--You may not alter, transform, or build upon this work with written consent from the author and/or publisher.

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  should be directed to jayne@jaynefrost.com

  Cover Designed by Ally Bishop

  Editied by Ally Bishop

  Proofread by Audrey Maddox

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to similarly named places or to persons living or deceased is unintentional.

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  To Jeff, the hero in all my stories.

  My happily ever after. I love you always.

  Chapter 1

  My knee bounced up and down nervously as the cab inched along in the heavy afternoon traffic on I35. Pulling out my cell phone, I hit redial.

  “Yeah?” Logan answered, sounding as frazzled as I felt.

  “Have you heard anything?” Biting off a piece of my nail, I spit it on the floorboard.

  From the front seat, the cab driver glared at me in the rearview mirror. I gave him an apologetic smile.

  “Not in the last five minutes,” Logan said, his exasperation evident. “I told you I’d call if I heard anything. Where are you?”

  Looking around, I tried to find anything that looked remotely familiar. I was from Austin, for Christ’s sake. The only time I ever ventured the two hundred miles north to Dallas was for a gig or a football game.

  “Fuck, dude. I have no clue.”

  “Just get here as fast as you can. Christian’s phone is still off.”

  The exasperation in Logan’s voice had an edge of fear. The same fear I felt fluttering in my belly.

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” I raked a hand through my hair. “Just call if…”

  “Yeah, yeah, I will. Fuck. Lindsey just walked in. I gotta go.”

  Before I could reply, the line went dead. I was a buffer between Logan and our half-witted manager, Lindsey. The insensitive bitch could work him up in a hot minute under the best of circumstances. I met the driver’s gaze in the mirror.

  “Hey, man, how much farther?”

  The cabbie gave me a half shrug. “About twenty minutes in this traffic.”

  Taking off my sunglasses, I rubbed my tired eyes. When I got the call that Christian had been in an accident, I jumped in the first cab I could find, not bothering to wait for the car service the label had on standby. At the moment, I regretted that particular decision. The fucking cab looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in a year, and the driver looked like he hadn’t bathed in just as long. His funk permeated the entire space.

  Reaching over, I hit the button to crack the window. Nothing. I hit it again.

  “Hey, man, can you open the window back here?” I barked over the music.

  “No can do. Too many fumes out there.”

  I stared at him incredulously. Unfuckingbelievable. It smelled like a dog’s ass in here, and the dude was oblivious. Dropping my head against the back of the seat, I closed my eyes.

  “Before we get back to our super set, we’ve got some news,” the DJ on the local rock station began in a somber voice. “I’ve just gotten word that Christian Sears, bassist for the band Caged, has been involved in an accident this afternoon in Dallas…”

  “Oh, man. That’s terrible,” his female counterpart cut in. “I hope it’s nothing serious.”

  Sitting bolt upright, I leaned forward. “Turn that up!”

  Startled, the driver reached for the volume button on the radio. The speakers crackled to life.

  “We haven’t got any official word yet on his condition. Caged is scheduled to perform this Saturday at the AT&T Stadium. We’ll keep y’all advised. Our thoughts are with you Christian.” And just like that, the DJ went back into his cheery radio persona. “And now back to our Monday super set. Here’s the latest from Caged, ’Above Me,’ on 97.1 The Eagle.”

  I hit the cracked, vinyl seat with a balled fist.

  “I knew you looked familiar,” the cabbie said, his smile fading when he met my gaze in the rearview mirror. “You’re Colin, right? The guitarist from Caged?”

  “Cameron,” I said wearily. “Cameron Knight.” I managed to give him a halfhearted smile.

  “Man, I love your music.” Cutting across two lanes of traffic, he jerked the cab onto the shoulder, spitting up gravel. “I’ll get you there as soon as I can. Hold on.”

  My chest contracted as the air left my lungs, my shoulders sagging in relief. “Thanks, man, I appreciate it.”

  As the cab barreled past the four lanes of gridlock, I curled my fingers into the edge of the seat so I wouldn’t slide around. The lump of dread in my throat was like coal—dry and bitter. I swallowed hard to dislodge it. And I prayed.

  Scanning the waiting room of the emergency ward at Parkland Memorial, I spotted Logan seated in the corner, wearing dark sunglasses and a baseball cap pulled low on his head. He was doing his best to look inconspicuous. As inconspicuous as a six foot four inch rock star with long, blond hair in a three hundred dollar, custom fitted shirt could look. Lindsey was at his side, tapping on her iPhone.

  “Cameron—” she started when I walked up.

  Cutting her off, I looked at Logan. “Anything?”

  “They’re taking him back for a CAT scan or an MRI,” he said quietly, looking around cautiously at the people that had begun to stare in our direction. “Something like that. They’re checking for internal injuries. I haven’t seen him yet. The doc says it doesn’t look serious.”

  “Thank God.” Pulling a plastic chair from against the wall, I sank onto it with a thud. “Where’s Sean?” Looking around for the only member of our band that wasn’t present, I noticed a couple of camera phones pointed in our direction.

  “Cafeteria,” Logan groused. “He left as soon as he heard Christian was in the clear. Fucker is a bottomless pit.”

  Chuckling, I took a couple deep breaths, the tension dissipating from my shoulders. “So now we just wait, huh?” Stretching my legs out in front of me, I crossed them at the ankle, dropping my gaze to the floor. I didn’t want this little powwow to end up on TMZ or some crap tabloid show. Caged wasn’t newsworthy enough to garner the attention of the mainstream press, but our celebrity made us ripe for tabloid fodder. Or at the very least, a clip on someone’s blog. Annoying as shit, but it came with the territory.

  “You guys should get out of here,” Lindsey said, in her best authoritative voice.

  She shrank in her seat when Logan and I swiveled our heads and scowled at her. The woman was not only a bad manager, she was fucking clueless. I wouldn’t leave here without a court order, and even then, I’d rather go to jail.

  Shaking his head, Logan looked from me to Lindsey.

  “You know what, Lindsey? Why don’t you get the fuck out of here?” he snapped, leveling her with a look of disdain. “And do…whatever i
t is that you do.”

  Bristling, she looked down at her phone when it began to ring. “I should take this.”

  Standing stiffly, she walked toward the automatic door.

  “She needs to get out of my fucking sight before I strangle her.” Logan watched her retreating back, his jaw clenched. “Her phone has been going off every five minutes since she walked in. Do you know she actually had the nerve to ask if I could do a phone interview while we waited?”

  He continued to stare at Lindsey through the dirty windows. She was puffing on a cigarette, her arms flapping as she spoke. I was with Logan. I couldn’t stand the bitch. Hiring a company from L.A. to manage us was the biggest mistake we ever made.

  “Excuse me.” The petite nurse stepped in front of us, a pink flush staining her cheeks. She was cute. Flaming red hair and green eyes as wide as saucers. She swept her gaze over my long hair, her eyebrow cocking when she reached the tattoos winding down my arms, then gave Logan the same treatment. It was clear that she recognized us.

  Normally, either Logan or I would be putting on the charm, vying shamelessly for her attention. Probably both of us.

  “Um…Christian…Mr. Sears has been admitted for observation. He’s going to be fine. He’s asking for you,” she stammered, flushing a deeper shade of crimson. “Both of you. He’s asking for both of you.”

  We were on our feet, headed for the door before she finished.

  “No, wait—you can’t go through there.” She closed the distance, regaining her composure. “You have to take the elevator. He’s in room 402.”

  “Thanks, darlin’.” I stopped in front of her, and she inhaled sharply. Brushing past me, Logan powered toward the bank of elevators. “Our friend Sean went to the cafeteria. He’s about six foot one and—”

  “I know what Sean looks like,” she said shyly. “I’ll tell the duty nurse to send him up as soon as he comes back.”

  “Thanks again…” Looking at the lanyard hanging in front of her perfect tits, I swept my eyes to hers. “Sophia.”

  “You’re welcome…Cameron.” Her smile turned from shy to seductive.

  I glanced at her left hand. No wedding ring.

  “Cameron!” Logan bellowed behind me. “Come on!”

  Winking, I turned and sauntered toward him, stepping into the elevator.

  “You’re a fucking dog,” he muttered, hitting the button for the fourth floor.

  “Woof,” I growled, the elevator doors whooshing closed on Sophia and her pretty green eyes still watching me from across the room.

  “Dude, it’s not funny.” Christian winced, clutching his side. “My ribs are killing me.”

  Sitting at the foot of the bed, I shook my head. “That’s what you fucking get. Why would you go for a bike ride in the middle of the city when you don’t even know where you’re going?”

  We usually stayed in Irving, close to the old AT&T Stadium. We knew that area. But this time they booked us at the Omni Hotel in the middle of downtown Dallas. No bike lanes, and nothing but four lane highways and busy side streets as far as the eye could see.

  “I needed the exercise.” He shrugged sheepishly.

  That proved my theory that the cure was worse than the disease. Of the four of us, only Christian would have a bike delivered so he could get in his ten miles instead of going to the gym at the hotel like a normal person.

  “When are they letting you out of here?” Logan said seriously.

  “Tomorrow.” Christian stifled a yawn, his eyes drifting closed for a second as he spoke. “They’re keeping me here in case I have an aneurysm or something.”

  The frown lines etched on Logan’s face deepened.

  Christian had suffered a slight concussion and bruised ribs. Other than the pain meds that were making him drowsy, he didn’t appear any worse for the wear. The door swung open, and Sean Hudson, our drummer and the only member of our tight little foursome unaccounted for, stepped inside.

  “Took you long enough, dickhead,” Christian said, a drowsy smile creeping over his face. “I could have been dying while you were wolfing down a burrito.”

  Ignoring the comment, Sean crossed the room, laying a hand on Christian’s shoulder. “You ever pull something like this again; I’ll kick your ass. You’ll be playing that bass from a wheelchair.”

  Christian smiled up at Sean, patting the hand that was pressed to his shoulder.

  “I’m good, bro. Just a few bumps and bruises.”

  “Jesus,” Logan groaned. “I need to get the fuck out of here. Before I grow a vagina.”

  “Don’t…shit…don’t make me laugh,” Christian snorted, clutching his side. His shoulders quaked as he tried to suppress a laugh.

  Our heads turned to the door when Lindsey’s high-pitched squeal drifted into the room.

  “I’m Mr. Sears’s manager,” she huffed. “Of course, he wants to see me.”

  Lindsey swept into the room with a nurse on her tail, her five inch heels clicking on the linoleum.

  “Christian,” she cooed in a saccharine sweet voice. “I’m so glad you’re ok.”

  Christian nodded at the nurse, who looked at Lindsey like she wanted to snatch our manager’s Chanel purse and strangle her with the gold chain. Giving Lindsey’s back a withering glare, the nurse retreated from the room, her ponytail swinging behind her.

  “Spreading sunshine wherever you go, eh, Lindsey?” Christian asked wearily, throwing an arm over his forehead.

  Her mere presence and fake show of concern cast a pallor over the room. Dismissing Christian’s comment, she looked at her watch.

  “I hate to break this up.” Lindsey reverted to her usual emotionless tone. “But I need all of you back at the hotel for a radio interview. Christian needs his rest. There’s a limo waiting outside.”

  “Don’t even start, Lindsey,” Logan spat. “I’m not doing a fucking interview. Issue a statement or whatever. I’m not going to talk about the show, or the single, or anything else.”

  Rising to his feet, Logan pushed Sean out of the way, leaning over to say something in Christian’s ear. I followed suit, grabbing Christian’s hand and squeezing it.

  “Let me know if you need anything.” I cleared my throat to hide the emotion. “Get some rest.”

  Christian smiled, his unfocused eyes at half-mast.

  Sliding his sunglasses on, Logan stepped around Lindsey and headed for the door. Sean followed, turning to smile at Christian before he stepped into the hallway. Surveying Lindsey in her monochromatic suit, with the flat smile frozen on her lips, I shook my head.

  “Damn, Lindsey, do you have anything resembling a heart in there?” I matched her cold stare. “If I were you, I wouldn’t push it.”

  She rolled her eyes, her heels clicking against the linoleum when she followed me out the door.

  Chapter 2

  What the fuck is this?” I looked out the tinted window of the limo at the crowd of people, mostly female, milling around the parking lot of the Omni Hotel. They spilled out of the lobby, holding makeshift signs with “I LOVE YOU, CHRISTIAN” and “GET WELL, CHRIS” scrawled on them.

  I didn’t appreciate the intrusion, but their hearts were in the right place. Taking out my cell, I snapped a couple pictures and sent them to Christian. The warm feeling faded when a group of screaming girls descended on the limo. A smug look crossed Lindsey’s face. This was no surprise. To her, at least.

  “How did they know where we were staying?”

  Lindsey’s smile disintegrated under the weight of my stare.

  “Aren’t you supposed to keep shit like this from happening?” Glancing out the window, I tensed when several faces pressed against the glass.

  “Yeah,” Logan cut in. “isn’t that what we pay you for, to keep us safe and anonymous between shows?”

  “If you wanted to remain anonymous, maybe you should’ve stayed in Austin.” Lifting her chin, Lindsey crossed her arms over her chest. “There’s no such thing as bad publicity, boys.”


  Leaning forward, I clasped my hands in a death grip to keep from choking her. “And if Christian were in a fucking coma, would that be ‘bad publicity’? Or would you arrange a competition to find a new bass player? Maybe have it televised?”

  The sparkle in her eyes told me I wasn’t too far off the mark.

  “Of course not.” She picked an imaginary piece of lint off her skirt. “Christian’s fine. I just thought since you missed the interview, we’d bring the interview to you.”

  Logan stared at her incredulously while Sean just shook his head, looking out the window. A van was parked in front of the entrance with “97.1 The Eagle” emblazoned on the side.

  “Come on, boys.” Lindsey plastered a smile on her face, sliding her sunglasses onto the bridge of her nose. “Your adoring fans are waiting. I’ve arranged for security to meet us.”

  “Security?” Logan roared. “Did you arrange for that before or after we found out that Christian was in the clear?” His blue eyes bore into hers, hidden behind her huge glasses. “Never mind, I already know.”

  “It doesn’t matter, Logan,” she said in a patronizing tone. “You’re scheduled to do the interview, so do the interview. It will probably be broadcast all over the state with this crowd.”

  She looked out the window appreciatively, scooting closer to the door.

  “Fuck this,” Logan muttered, reclining against the seat. “I’m not going to be trapped in a room at this hotel all week because you wanted extra publicity.” He turned to me. “Any ideas, Cam?”

  Shrugging, I pulled out my phone, glancing at each of my bandmates.

  “Make the call,” Logan grumbled.

  Hitting the button, I held the phone to my ear, waiting for my brother to answer. He picked up on the second ring.

  “Hey, Chase.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “No, Christian’s fine, but we have a little problem.”

  My brother was a miracle worker. He came through, just like always. It didn’t take him ten minutes to firm up the arrangements. As the limo sped down the freeway, I sipped my beer, watching the landscape turn rural. Well, rural was a stretch, but at least skyscrapers weren’t dotting the skyline any longer. After kicking Lindsey out at the Omni to deal with her mess, our group had relaxed.