Chapter 2 - Carter
Divorce is expensive, apparently.
Especially when you and your ex don’t get along. I stared at the invoice from my lawyer with my head in my hand. Between these bills and giving away half of everything I had to my ex, it was looking like I wouldn’t have much left. I put the papers down on the smooth marble kitchen island and sighed.
Maddox, the drummer in our band, appeared in the doorway. He was wearing boxers and a silky, paisley bathroom and the distinctive pallor of a bad hangover.
“What’s wrong with you?” He grunted, going to the fridge and taking out a beer.
“No breakfast?”
“Can’t face food yet,” he replied. He nodded to the papers. “Lawyer?”
I grunted. We’d been living together ever since we were seventeen, when we left our parents’ houses to move to LA and try to make it big. I’d only moved out to live with Angela, my ex, and Maddox had taken me back in when it all fell apart. Even when we made money, we still stuck together, and Maddox knew everything that went on in my life.
Including my ongoing divorce.
“Fucking Angela,” I huffed. “She’s getting way more than she should and she just won’t let go. It’s like she doesn’t just want a divorce, she wants to ruin my life.”
“Women are cruel,” Maddox said, taking a long sip of beer. He exhaled, sitting down beside me on a bar stool. He looked at the bottle of beer and shook his head.
“What happened last night?”
I chuckled. “The usual. At least the house is in one piece. Didn’t bring the party back here, for once.”
“Did I come home with you?”
“Yeah. Passed out in the cab.”
“I still can’t believe you can go out with us and not drink.”
I grinned. “It’s an acquired skill. And plus, I still drink sometimes, I just don’t party like that anymore.”
“One beer after rehearsal doesn’t count,” Maddox grinned. He looked over at the kitchen table and grunted. “Wallet, keys, and phone are there. So at least I’ve got that going for me.”
“You should give up the booze, man,” I said gently, turning back to my papers. “That stuff’ll ruin your life.”
“What, just because you’re all reformed now, it means I have to stop partying?”
“I mean, look at what our lives have become. Drinking and fighting and paying for things that we’ve done. My marriage fell apart because I didn’t give up the booze. And now that I have stopped, I’m still paying for everything that I did.”
“You didn’t even do anything that bad. It’s not like you cheated on her or anything.”
“I left her at home to go partying day in, day out. That’s why things fell apart.”
Maddox grunted, downing the rest of his beer. He looked at me as his eyebrows drew together. “You regret getting married?”
I sighed, staring out through our large windows towards the pool. “I don’t think so,” I sighed. “I was just an idiot before. Might still be one.”
“You think Angela’ll ever let up and be more reasonable with all this?”
My heart squeezed. “Probably not.”
Maddox was quiet for a while, and I sighed.
“I really need this tour to be successful,” I said quietly. “You’ll be kicking me out soon, if this keeps up. Bank account is getting pretty low.”
Maddox put his hand on my shoulder. “I’m not kicking you out. This place is paid for, anyways, remember? No mortgage, no problem.”
I chuckled. “Are you saying you’ll cover property taxes and maintenance on this place if I’m on my ass.”
“You’re a brother to me, Carter.” He shrugged. “Plus, if things get bad I’ll just get some crooked accountant to do some tax fraud for us or something.”
I laughed as Maddox cracked another beer and grinned.
“Nah,” he said. “It’ll work out.”
I looked at the number at the bottom of the invoice in my hands. It had way too many zeros on the end of it for me to be comfortable thinking that everything would magically work out.
“We just really need to pull our fucking heads out of our asses and play some music again. This album launch has to be big.”
“Don’t worry, bro,” Maddox said, taking another sip of beer. He looked as hungover as ever. “It will be. We have that new PR team coming in tonight to watch us rehearse. Apparently they have it all planned out.”
I scoffed. “Yeah, because PR teams have been really good for us lately.”
Maddox just shrugged, and walked over to the couch. He collapsed on it, and I knew he’d be there until we left for rehearsal.
“You do remember how to play the drums, don’t you?” Garrett said to Maddox, his dark eyes even darker. Maddox was entering the shaky part of his hangover, and I could tell he was in bad shape. I leaned my hands on my bass guitar and watched the two of them face off.
Maddox was sweating buckets, sitting shirtless behind his drum set. Garrett was standing behind the microphone, looking back at Maddox with fire in his eyes.
All three of us had strong personalities. We’d grown up together, and we’d all been born leaders. We were always able to put it aside for the band, though. For the music. In the rehearsal space, in the studio, on stage—we were equals.
But right now, it didn’t seem that way. I knew our new PR team would be there any minute, and at this stage we wouldn’t have anything to play for them.
Our band was a mess. We were falling apart.
“Let’s just take it from the top,” Garrett grumbled, eyeing both of us. “Then we can go out and get a fucking beer.”
Maddox grunted, and Garrett turned back to his microphone.
We sucked. We were out of sync, out of tune, out of everything. By the end of the song, the three of us eyed each other for a long moment.
“How the fuck are we supposed to go on a world tour if we can’t even play our own fucking music?” Garrett grumbled.
I grunted. “He’s just fucking hungover, man.”
Maddox made a noise in agreement.
Garrett dragged his fingers through his hair and shook his head. I glanced at Maddox and pursed my lips. Maddox shrugged.
This was bad. It felt like the beginning of the end—like the past sic months might actually catch up to us. The drinking, the partying, the out-of-control mess of it all. The music had taken a back seat.
The thought of us breaking up choked me up more than my divorce. I couldn’t lose these guys, not after losing my wife and my dog. I just couldn’t.
Maddox seemed to agree when he smashed his drumsticks against the drums in frustration. He moaned and clutched his head, and I knew he’d had another wave of hangover pass through him.
He looked up at us, and then stood up.
“I need a break,” Maddox grumbled, brushing past us to walk out the rehearsal space.
After he left, Garrett glanced at me and shook his head.
“What the fuck is going on with him?”
I sighed. “With all of us, you mean? I don’t know, man, but something has to change.”
He nodded, glancing at the door where Maddox had left. “Maybe I should talk to him.”
“Go easy on him, Garrett,” I said. “He’s still all fucked up about the accident.”
“That was six months ago.”
“His parents fucking died, man. They died in a freak boating accident. That shit stays with you! Six months is nothing. And you haven’t exactly been an angel in that time, either.”
Garrett’s eyes blazed, and he finally nodded. “You’re right.”
He stalked out of the room. I walked over to the couch and sank down into it, sighing and closing my eyes. This was a mess. We needed a new focus, a new thing to bring us back to the music.
Maybe this PR team would help.
Even as the thought crossed my head, I knew the chances were slim. But still, when Maddox and Garrett came back in, our rehearsal was a little bit smoother than before. Considering the past few months, that was a win.