Treasure Me

by Olivia Cunning

  “I’ll be safe,” he promised. “You be safe too. And promise you’ll let me know how your dinner meeting goes.”

  She laughed. “I’m sure it will be lame.”

  And he was sure someone in Hollywood had figured out that his girlfriend was amazing. “Have fun.”

  “I’ll try. But I’d be having more fun there with you.”

  *****

  Kellen arrived at the venue just minutes before they were scheduled to take the stage.

  He hurried through the backstage area, glad the roadies cleared a path for him, and found Owen standing near the stage entrance with his bass strapped on and hooked up to the sound equipment. Kellen had cut it really close.

  “You made it,” Owen said, slapping him on the arm.

  “Remind me never to drive from Galveston to New Orleans again.” At least not alone. Lord, he’d been ready to drive into the nearest moss-draped bald cypress by the end of it.

  The technician handed Kellen his guitar, and he flipped the strap over his head, glad he didn’t have to worry about makeup and a costume change.

  “Dawn didn’t come back with you?” Owen asked.

  Kellen shook his head. “We’re trying to sort out where we go next.” Well, she was going places. He was mostly just worried he’d be left behind.

  Owen scratched at a bit of beard growth. “Yeah, Caitlyn and I hit that point as well. Fortunately, we talked it out and are moving forward.”

  Kellen smiled, the adrenaline rush of his near lateness waning and sapping his energy. “That’s great.”

  Owen frowned and gnawed on his lip. “You ever get the feeling that something is wrong? Or that something bad is about to happen?”

  “Sometimes,” Kellen said. Owen did look worried. Antsy even.

  “I’ve been feeling like that for about an hour. I called a bunch of people, and everyone assures me they’re okay, but this feeling of dread won’t go away.”

  Kellen opened his mouth to assure Owen that he was sure everyone was fine, but was interrupted by Jacob asking, “Where’s Adam?”

  Owen glanced around, and then shrugged. “No idea.”

  Jacob pointed out Adam’s guitar sitting untouched in its stand. “He left his guitar.”

  “Maybe he had to go to the bathroom,” Kellen said. “Ever try to take a piss with a guitar strapped on?” He’d once had to throw away a perfectly good guitar because his aim had been off.

  “Can’t say that I have,” Jacob said. He stared at the door as if Adam coming through it depended solely on his focus.

  A few minutes later, Gabe hopped down from the stage, his drumsticks in one hand. “What’s the holdup?”

  “Adam’s missing,” Jacob said.

  “Missing?”

  “Yeah, he was just here.”

  And Kellen had been worried that people would be waiting on him for a change.

  Owen grabbed Kellen’s arm and attention. “Should we go look for him?”

  “Let the road crew handle it.” Kellen doubted they’d have to wait much longer. “We wouldn’t want them to have to round us all up again when they find him.”

  Kellen was rethinking his doubt when the road crew turned up and claimed there were no signs of Adam, not even the motorcycle he’d rented. Apparently he’d taken off without letting anyone know where he was going.

  “Fuck!” Jacob yelled, turning accusative eyes in his bandmates’ direction as if they’d given Adam the okay to blow off the show. “Did he say anything to any of you?”

  Owen cringed beneath Jacob’s anger and shook his head. Kellen mimicked Owen’s motion. Why would they stand there for ten minutes waiting for Adam to show up and then suddenly remember they knew exactly where he was? Sometimes Jacob made no sense.

  “Fuck!” Jacob shouted again. “What in the hell is he thinking?”

  “Maybe there’s an emergency,” Owen said exactly what Kellen was thinking.

  “Even if there is, he could have taken a few seconds to tell someone,” Jacob said.

  True, but if the emergency involved Adam, maybe he was physically incapable of telling someone.

  “Fuck!” Jacob yelled. “I’m going after him.”

  “Do you know where he went?” Gabe asked.

  Jacob checked the Adam-tracking app on his phone, but all he could tell was that Adam was headed west.

  “What’s west?” Kellen asked. Besides Dawn.

  “Texas. Madison. His fucking heroin dealer. How the hell should I know?”

  “Calm down,” Owen said. “We’ll figure something out.”

  “I’ll try calling him,” Kellen said. “Maybe he’ll answer.” He hoped that by presenting a calm front, the rest of them would follow his lead. Because they were all freaking out. He listened to Adam’s phone ring and ring, but he got no answer. While he was leaving a message, Sally joined them.

  “What’s going on?” she asked. “Why aren’t you on stage?”

  “Adam isn’t here,” Jacob said. “We can’t perform without our lead guitarist, can we?”

  “I’m worried.” Owen looked at Kellen and lifted his brows in an unspoken question.

  Kellen shook his head—he hadn’t been able to reach Adam. He tucked his phone back into his pocket.

  “He wouldn’t just run off like that unless it was a life or death situation.”

  “Yes, he would,” Jacob said.

  Kellen could see both their points. It was very possible that Adam was in trouble, but it was equally likely that Adam was just being irresponsible Adam. It wouldn’t be the first time. Why would anyone think it would be his last?

  Jacob took a moment to remind them of Adam’s addiction problems and how Jacob himself had always been the one who’d scraped the guy off rock bottom.

  “He’s changed, Jacob,” Gabe said, though he was looking at the floor, so Kellen didn’t think he was convinced that Adam had changed.

  “He has?” Jacob shook his head. “Sorry, but I don’t see it.”

  While the rest of them looked on, wondering what the hell he was doing, Jacob jogged out onto the stage.

  “Good evening, New Orleans,” he called out to the audience. “You look ready to rock!”

  They cheered, and Kellen cringed. Why was Jacob getting them amped up when there was no way for them to perform?

  “Unfortunately, our performance is not going to happen tonight. Our lead guitarist, Adam Taylor, was called away on an emergency. So we have to cancel the show.”

  The crowd roared in angry disappointment, and Jacob promised to square them away, but even if they refunded the tickets or rescheduled, the fans would never get back the time they’d wasted coming to the arena only to be turned away.

  “This is a fucking nightmare,” Gabe said.

  “Understatement of the century,” Owen said. “The fans are pissed.”

  Kellen was starting to get that way himself, and it took a lot to piss him off.

  Jacob returned a few minutes later with some teenager wearing a beanie hat, and asked Kellen if he’d reached Adam. Kellen shook his head. Obviously not.

  “Okay.”

  Jacob explained his plan B: having a young guitarist, who they didn’t know from Adam—actually, they did know he wasn’t Adam—take their wildly talented and popular lead guitarist’s place that night.

  Desperate much, Jacob?

  “So I say we give him a chance to prove himself,” Jacob was saying. “What’s your name?”

  He didn’t even know the guy’s name?

  “Wes.”

  The same name as Dawn’s agent—what were the odds? Maybe it was a sign. Maybe the kid knew the ins and outs of the music business just as Dawn’s agent did. Or maybe the guy couldn’t tell a fretboard from a tuning peg.

  Kellen’s jaw dropped when Wes played every requested Sole Regret riff and solo with surprising skill. He was no Adam Taylor. Hell, Kellen was no Adam Taylor and he’d played with the guy for a decade. But the kid could play. So they held the concert without
Adam and let young Wes be a rock star for an evening.

  Perhaps someone—Jacob—should have asked Kellen to fill in for Adam. He could have handled it. He didn’t want the job full-time or anything, but fuck, no one—certainly not Jacob—had even asked Kellen if he wanted to play lead in Adam’s place. One of the technicians could have probably played Kellen’s part on rhythm guitar. Maybe Kellen should have said something instead of assuming one of the guys would read his mind. But he didn’t hold any of that against young Wes.

  Kellen actually had a good time with Owen onstage. They played off one another, leaving Wes alone so that he could concentrate. Playing with Owen took the edge off, even though Kellen was already missing Dawn and still worried about Adam.

  Once the concert ended, he followed Owen back to the tour bus, checking his phone for messages. One from his cellular carrier, but nothing he wanted to hear or read. Nothing from Adam. Nothing from Dawn.

  Kellen sighed and plopped down on the sofa next to Owen. “I actually think Jacob was okay with that little scenario.”

  “More than okay with it,” Gabe said. “I think he preferred it. He had Sally get that kid’s information.”

  “He’s a nice kid and all,” Owen said, “but . . .”

  “. . . he’s no Adam Taylor,” the three said in unison.

  Jacob had reached the bus before them all, heading straight for the back to be alone or avoid them or who knew what. Kellen was having a hard time reading Jacob tonight. Something was bothering him. Maybe it was just the situation with Adam, but Kellen got the feeling there was more to it than another disappointment. This wasn’t the first show that Adam had derailed. He’d once passed out in the middle of a performance from an overdose of whatever junk he’d shot into his veins. At least Adam was clean now. Or was he?

  Jacob sauntered in their direction. “Anyone hear from Adam yet?” Jacob asked.

  That strange vibe Kellen had been getting from Jacob all night intensified as soon as he and the others admitted they still hadn’t heard from Adam.

  “I’ve had it with his bullshit,” Jacob said. Without taking a breath, he blurted, “Adam’s out of the band.”

  Owen stiffened beside Kellen. “What?”

  Kellen was too shocked to even get a word out. They couldn’t do that to Adam. They couldn’t do that to Sole Regret. Neither would survive.

  “He’s toxic,” Jacob said. “We need to get rid of him. Replace him with someone who takes our success seriously.”

  There was more than one problem with getting rid of Adam.

  “Adam writes all of our music,” Kellen reminded them. Maybe Jacob didn’t realize how important a composer was to the success of a band, but he sure as hell did. “We can’t just kick him out.”

  Jacob shrugged. “We’ll write the music ourselves and if necessary, hire songwriters.”

  Uh, no. That wasn’t going to happen.

  “This is bullshit,” Kellen said. Jacob was the self-proclaimed leader of the band, but he did not get to make all the decisions without input from the rest of them. “Adam is one of us. He’s always been one of us. We can’t do this to him.”

  “We don’t even know why he took off,” Owen said, obviously still focused on the idea that Adam was hurt or in danger. “I’m sure he had a good reason.”

  “More than two hours later, and he still hasn’t checked in to let us know what the fuck is going on!” Jacob yelled. “He obviously doesn’t give a shit about any of us or the fans or the music. All he cares about is himself. It’s time to cut him loose. If he wants to destroy himself, fine, but I’m not letting him take the rest of us down with him.”

  “I want to hear what he has to say before I weigh in.” Gabe finally broke his silence. “For all we know, he’s dead in a ditch somewhere.”

  Owen flinched and leaned closer to Kellen, as if he could guard him from that possibility. “Don’t even say that.”

  “It would save me the trouble of telling him to fuck off,” Jacob said in a growl.

  This wasn’t the Jacob they knew. There was a line a man should never cross and then there was a line past that one. Jacob had leapt over all the lines and was so far beyond acceptable behavior that Kellen had a mind to punch him.

  “You’re such an asshole,” Owen said.

  Exactly.

  Jacob further demonstrated his assholery by getting right into Owen’s face. “I’d rather be an asshole than a spineless wuss,” he growled at him.

  Kellen bristled, fighting the urge to wallop Jacob. He knew if he fought Owen’s battles, he’d be giving credibility to Jacob’s insults, but fuck, Jacob was pushing all of Kellen’s anger buttons at once. He couldn’t remember ever being this pissed at anyone, much less someone he considered one of his best friends.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Owen shoved Jacob away.

  “You’re a pushover, Owen,” Jacob said. “You always have been.”

  “Don’t take your frustration with Adam out on Owen,” Kellen said. He squeezed Owen’s leg to keep himself from punching Jacob. He refused to stoop to that level just yet. Jacob was under a lot of pressure. And though it might make Kellen feel better, beating the crap out of Jacob would only make things worse in the long run. “You’re the one who never bends. You’re the mighty oak, standing tall and rigid against any force that threatens your position.”

  “Someone has to be strong.”

  “Listen to what Kellen is trying to warn you about,” Gabe said. “If you never bend, you will break, Jacob. Don’t you see that? We’ll figure out what to do after we talk to Adam.”

  “Kellen could play lead,” Jacob said.

  So now that was his solution? Not when they performed, but afterwards? Kellen couldn’t believe Jacob had the nerve to suggest it.

  “And Adam play rhythm?” Owen asked. “He’d never agree to that.”

  Jacob gaped at Owen as if he couldn’t figure out how someone so clueless could find the mental capacity to breathe. “No. We’d get a new rhythm guitarist.”

  “I prefer rhythm guitar,” Kellen said. It linked him with Owen in a way he wasn’t willing to give up. And he knew Adam would be back soon. Adam always came back. And Kellen refused to give Jacob what he thought was an easy solution. It wasn’t a solution at all, just a different set of problems.

  “Then we get a new lead guitarist,” Jacob said, tossing his hands in the air and shaking his head. “I don’t care either way, I just want Adam gone. And not temporarily. For good.”

  “What’s wrong with you?” Owen said, again mirroring Kellen’s thoughts. “I’m sure he’ll explain everything when he gets back. He deserves a second chance.”

  “A second chance?” Jacob sucked in a harsh breath.

  Kellen nodded. Yes, Adam deserved a second chance.

  “He’s already had a hundred second chances,” Jacob said. “Or more! He’s gone too far this time. I’m not putting up with his shit anymore. So if you won’t get rid of him, then I’m out of here.”

  Did he really mean that? Or was he drawing a line he thought they wouldn’t cross?

  Gabe’s breathless what actually forced Jacob to turn away.

  “There’s the door,” Owen said, pointing in case Jacob had forgotten where it was.

  Jacob stared at Owen for a long moment as if measuring the weight of his words. He bit his lip and nodded slightly before he said, “So Owen chooses Adam over me.” He turned his attention to Kellen. “What about you, Kellen? I’m sure you’ll go along with whatever Owen says since you can’t live without each other.”

  Of course he’d think that was why he sided with Owen. Not because Owen was right—in Kellen’s opinion Owen was right to show Jacob the door if he wanted to leave so bad—but because he thought Kellen was incapable of forming an opinion of his own.

  “Fuck you, Jacob,” Kellen said.

  Jacob turned to Gabe, who was still trying to reason with the bastard.