I’m in my dressing room, taking a moment to get into the zone before making my way down the crowded backstage hallway and toward the crowd already screaming my name. A steady syllable ricochets through the stadium, repeating with a passion I wish I could feel the way I used to.
Wolf. Wolf. Wolf.
I’m trying to use the chanting to rev me up, to feel it again—the electricity passing through my body, the buzzing in my chest. I should be fired up by now. The crowd is eating out of the palm of my hand, and I’m not even on stage yet. What happened to the days when I would pop a boner at the first sound of my fans’ affection? When my veins would fill to the brim with adrenaline so powerful I thought I could fly?
Where the fuck are my wings?
I need that feeling back. I need to remember what I first fell in love with. The music. The stage. The rush of it all. If I don’t get my shit together, they will notice. I’m sure they’ve already started to. The past two shows have easily been my worst. Like Derrick reminds me, I’m shit at hiding my emotions. My dial only has two settings: hot and cold. Neither is good. There’s only been one person who could balance me out. But she knocked the wind out of me when she left, and I’ve yet to get back my balance.
Someone bangs at my door. “Wolf, let’s go!”
It’s Crawley. I grit my teeth and fight back a growl. That fucker’s going down. He’s already been kicked off my bus. I’m just playing my cards right, biding my time until I figure out what he has on me and why he feels like he owns my ass. I’m done with him, but Crawley isn’t someone you want to fuck with without a well-thought-out plan.
I throw the door open and breeze by a rosy-cheeked Crawley like he’s nothing. Rex, my bodyguard, is waiting. He walks beside me as venue security flanks me on all sides to get through the growing crowd as quickly as possible. Something has got to be done about this crowd control issue. It gets worse at every show.
A sadness fills me at first as I realize, like I have been every single fucking night since she left, that Lyric isn’t pressed up against one of the backstage walls where I can reach for her and taste her lips briefly before letting the crowd own me. She was always there—until she wasn’t anymore.
The chanting quickens and I start to feel the vibrations in my chest. It’s the energy I’ve been missing for two days now, and it feels good. It’s not as powerful as it once was, but it’s something.
“Thank fuck.” I say it out loud, but the screams from the crowd drown out the sound of my voice. I embrace the energy as it seeps into me, slowly at first, until it’s barreling through me at a speed that feeds my soul.
This is what it’s all about.
The second I reach the backstage staircase, someone tosses me a microphone.
I wait for the band’s cue, and then…
“Owoooooooooooooo!” I’m howling as I run onto the stage until I hit the spotlight, and then I howl again, throwing my head behind me and arching my back, eliciting the loudest welcome I’ve heard since Lyric left.
Okay. I can do this.
Wake up. Coffee. Breakfast. Rehearsal. Hotel room check-in. Lunch. Soundcheck. Nap. Work out. Dinner. Concert. Meet and greets. Club. Bed.
Fucking clockwork. It’s not always in that exact order, but fuck. It’s nonstop. I’m busy. But it’s the only way to suffocate my thoughts of Lyric. Every time she pops into my mind, like she has now, I get heated. Angry. On the verge of a fucking meltdown.
That’s what she did to me, and I hate her for it. I hate her for everything I love about her. And I hate that I want her to come back.
Doug is doing a fine job filling in for Lyric as road manager—not that I expect any less. He’s had a lifetime to get this right. He’s simply not her. I used to wake up excited to see her every morning, even before we were anything to each other. She was always the one I sought out in the frenzy of a late-night concert crowd. And I could always count on her to be there.
I don’t know if Lyric is coming back on tour or if she’s quitting the scene altogether. I know what her options are, and while I thought I’d gotten to know her well, I have no clue what she’ll decide. Not after how she left.
The wait is agonizing. What if she doesn’t come back?
I’m not ready to answer that question. She’s supposed to make her decision today. If she decides to come back, she’ll be here tomorrow. If she doesn’t… Fuck.
“Hey, Wolf.”
I’m hopping off the bus when I hear the sound of a purring woman call my name. Flipping my shades over my eyes, I turn marginally toward the voice and see a sight that was once the norm. Four scantily clad women lean casually against the bus, giving me that look—the one that tells me they’re down for whatever. No-strings-attached fun.
Looks like Rex has already started allowing the girls to line up outside the bus again, probably at the band’s prodding. They never could believe I was changing my ways for the long haul. They probably think I need a good fuck to get Lyric out of my head. Maybe they’re right.
The woman who called my name starts to walk in my direction, a syrupy smile on her overly made-up face. A panic alarm sounds off in my head, and before she can get any closer, I turn and walk toward Rex, Crawley, and the band, who are all watching and waiting near the hotel entrance.
Most of them look amused by my disinterest, but Hedge throws his head back and howls with laughter. That little shit. I punch him in the gut as I walk by, not trying to hold back.
“What the fuck?” he cries as he curls over himself, and the rest of the band laughs. It wouldn’t be the first time Hedge got socked by one of us. As the trouble maker of the bunch, he usually deserves it.
Derrick jogs up from behind me, throwing an arm over my shoulder and pulling me toward him. “Hang in there, dude. Everything will work out. Don’t let fucking Hedge, or Crawley, or any other one of these dicks mess with you. I’m proud of you, man. Seriously.”
I roll my eyes at Derrick’s pep talk. He’s way too optimistic as always, and while I appreciate it when it comes to music, I could do without it right now.
“Thanks, man,” I return, because no matter how I feel about my situation, Derrick is still my best friend, and he means well.
“I’m sorry, Wolf,” Hedge cries loudly behind me in a playful plea of desperation. “Forgive me!”
Derrick chuckles, and as annoyed as I am, I can’t help but smile just a little. No fucking way I’ll let Hedge see it, though, so I flip him the bird over my head instead.
The band is the closest thing to family I have, but when it comes to the feelings I have for Lyric, I keep them to myself. Ever since she stumbled into that elevator at Perform Live, she was it for me. Nothing was going to get in our way while we figured out what was going on between us.
But things have changed drastically since then. And the band knows as much as I do that it’s just a matter of time before I let some hot rocker chick ride my cock. It’s been three days without sex, and I can already feel the ache. The need. Pleasuring myself to memories of Lyric can only hold me over for so long. I’m unfulfilled. Damaged. Lyric completely ruined me.
“Want to grab a bite?” Doug hands me the keycard for my room, just like Lyric used to do at every hotel stop, and I can’t help but frown. Everything reminds me of her, and it feels like someone’s punching me in the gut every time. As much as I’d rather hole myself up in my room and drown out the noise in my head with an action flick, I need to eat, and Doug’s a good guy.
“Sure, man. Let me shower and shit. Where to?”
As Doug nods to the restaurant on the other side of the lobby, I can’t help but focus on the silver of his hair contrasted against California tanned skin. Doug and my father are probably around the same age, somewhere in their fifties, and neither have a wrinkle on them, except for that crinkle around the eyes when they squint or smile. I haven’t seen my father’s smile in years, but the resemblance is haunting.
“We don’t have to stray far. We’ll grab something quick before soundcheck,” he says.
I head to my room and jump in the shower, wondering what comes next. For the tour, and for Lyric and me.
A lunch invite from Doug isn’t unusual. I’ve known the dude since the first tour we booked with Perform Live, when he accompanied us on the show from hell. Seriously. Everything that could have possibly gone wrong, did. Imagine us showing up to our very first venue for our first-ever show in front of more than a couple hundred people and seeing clouds of smoke and three fire engines rolling up to the joint.
It was a kitchen fire, no one was harmed, but the fire marshal refused to allow anyone inside. So Doug, being the quick thinker that he is, quickly made arrangements for a parking lot show instead. It was badass, and in retrospect, probably one of our best shows ever.
He’s always been a great guy, so it’s no surprise he and Lyric are so close. Given the timing of this lunch, I wonder if he could be prepping me for Lyric’s return … or permanent exit. The latter radiates an unkind pressure in my chest. I pound on it with my fist a couple times, replacing one pressure for another one that I can control. But nothing helps. I take a deep breath and lean against the wall of the shower.
I think about her face. It’s not hard. Every time her sweet face comes to mind, I imagine her wrapped up in the white sheets of my tour bus bed, her sage eyes pointed out the window with the morning light streaming down, illuminating the glow of her perfect skin. How can someone so angelic wreck me so completely?
I groan as the image of her transforms to the face of the Lyric that left me. Seething with anger. Too worked up to see what she was doing to me. To us. I just watched her as my forever became the end. She walked out and took all the good parts of me with her. My Lyric gutted me.
For the first twenty-four hours after her exit, I couldn’t see straight. She called and called, but I ignored every single one. Eventually, I blocked her number, knowing that any conversation we would have in the heat of the moment would end badly. After delivering Lyric’s options to Perform Live—coming back on tour or letting her walk without penalty—I unblocked her, but it’s only messed with my head. I’ve spent the past two days with my phone in my hands, waiting for a goddamn call that may never come.
Do I want to see her again? Do I want her to come back on tour?
Yes.
I’m afraid of what I might do if she doesn’t. But that doesn’t mean I’ll forgive her for leaving. My biggest fear is that she won’t even ask for forgiveness.
I can’t keep doing this to myself.
I turn the shower to cold, and the temperature changes fast. I gasp but take the sting, forcing a breath and letting the icy water drown my thoughts of her.
“You look like shit.”
Doug is already sitting at our table in a sectioned off corner of the beach-themed restaurant when I stroll in fifteen minutes later, and he’s eyeing me with full-on criticism.
I roll my eyes, then blink against the blinding sun streaming in through the large paned windows. “Thanks. I feel it.”
He takes a sip of his tea. At least I assume it’s tea. That’s all the guy seems to drink, besides alcohol. “Would it help if I told you she made her decision?”
I shake my head, fighting my subconscious. “Nope.” I’m a fucking liar.
“You’re going to be a miserable ass either way, eh?” He laughs, and I can’t help but quirk my lips in a smile.
“Most likely.”
The waitress comes over and hands me my whiskey water. I raise my chin in thanks, then look at Doug. “Don’t give me trouble. I’m doing my best.”
He shrugs. “You won’t get any judgment from me. You’re the tamest rock star I’ve had the pleasure of accompanying on tour. And that includes Mitch Cassidy.”
I chuckle. “Tame, huh? Fuck. I’ve really lost my touch, haven’t I?”
“A little.” He smirks. “But it’s not a bad thing. As long as it’s not affecting your show. And as far as I can tell, it’s not.”
“Really? Because I feel weak on that stage, man. Like a robot, just going through the motions. All I can think about is her.”
Why the fuck did I say that out loud?
“It’s not my place to speak for Lyric, but you should know—and maybe you already do—but she’s been through a lot of heartbreak in her life. I witnessed the worst of it, and it wasn’t pretty. A young girl like that shouldn’t have to face what she’s faced. But she’s strong. And she may have done something you didn’t agree with, but I’m sure she was just protecting herself. She had to do a lot of that growing up, and she does it the best way she knows how.”
I’m pissed. Of course Doug is on Lyric’s side. They’re like family. But her past doesn’t change her present. A present that includes keeping the truth about what drove her away a secret—even from me. That’s an issue I can’t just ignore.
“I’m sorry man, but that doesn’t change our situation or how I feel right now. I would have stood by that girl for anything, but she wouldn’t even talk to me. She just left. Everything before that moment just feels—”
Doug leans forward and pointedly pushes my drink in front of me. His eyes are glued to my face like he’s examining me with his professional tour director eyes. I can feel them burning a hole in my fucking forehead. He sees too much. And now he knows too much. I take a swig and let him talk.
“Don’t go there,” Doug warns, carrying a fatherly tone that both warms and irks me. “You don’t know what will happen in the future. Take it from someone who’s been in this business far longer than you. The rock star life can be the best thing in the fucking world, but the moment you let someone into that world, that control you once felt is gone. Out the window. You and Lyric, you’re both so young, and this thing between you is still new. You’re figuring how your worlds work together. Don’t let the media destroy everything you’ve built. And don’t let Lyric’s past get the better of you two, either. She just needs time to open up is all. She needs to grow up and let go of her past so her hurt no longer defines her.”
“She seems to have a good handle on herself,” I retort. “She’s independent. Determined. What’s missing?”
He leans back in his chair and shrugs. “I think I’d be crossing the line if I went into specifics. She’s still living in her parents’ shadows. But she needs to pave her own way. Working for Perform Live may not necessarily be the best thing for her, but she’s not ready to see that.”
By the time our food comes, we’ve thankfully switched topics to the remaining two days of the tour.
“So,” Doug starts.
Cringing, I lean back in my chair, readying myself for the news I’ve been not-so-subtly agonizing over. It’s unavoidable, like a damn opened wound that’s attached itself to a Band-Aid—it’s going to be a bitch to rip off.
Something twists in my chest, but I make no move to stop him when he continues. “Wright called me today, and we had a long talk about the tour and Lyric. She’s coming back.”
My next breath is heavy, as if I’ve finally come up for air after days of drowning, and a whoosh of relief fills me. I’m unprepared for the emotions, but I do my best to mask them. “Tomorrow?”
I don’t miss the small smile on Doug’s lips. Guess I’m shit at hiding things. The bastard knew what I wanted to hear. Of course he did. “Not sure. I know she’ll be at the final show, and then she’ll be flying with you guys to Florida for the studio record. The company wanted me to take the reins, but things changed today. I’m getting pulled onto another show.” He sighs. “I wasn’t planning to travel for a good while, but they need someone to babysit Tony after that catastrophe between you guys. Rumor is, he completely lost it after that night. Went rogue on his band, missed a show, and now he’s hitting the drugs hard.”
I lean forward, raising my brows in intrigue while trying not to reveal my satisfaction. If it weren’t for Tony’s bitch move that night, showing up at the club and manhandling Lyric like he owned her, none of us would be in this mess. Lyric would be here, with me, in bed. Under me. Full of me. Loving me.
Shaking my head to rid my mind of useless could-have-beens, I focus on Doug. “I don’t know how much of it is true, but with Lyric back out on tour with you, the company doesn’t want to take any risks.”
“Makes sense. So you’re taking off at the end of this leg?”
Doug nods. “Looks like it. I’ll get Lyric settled back in, and then I’m off.”
“I appreciate you telling me. And thanks for filling in this week. You’re always welcome on my bus, man.”
He smirks. “Thanks. Figured I’d tell you first. I should have told Crawley already, but I can’t stand the guy. Sorry.”
I shake my head. “Don’t be. He’s toast, anyway.”
“I can’t say I’m not happy to hear that. He’s definitely got it out for Lyric. You know he tried to alter the terms of her tour contract, right? I probably shouldn’t be telling you this because it’s a non-issue, but Crawley is a real sleazeball. I don’t trust him.”
My face flames. “What?” I try not to shout, but I know my voice is raised. I lean forward and grip the table so hard my knuckles turn white. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
“I wouldn’t lie. He added a line about her working for him, not you. Some shit like that. The legal aid from your attorney’s office totally missed it and sent it through to the label. The kid should have been fired. You’re telling me no one talked to you about this?”
I shake my head, face flaming. “Crawley handles communication between the lawyers and the label. I trusted that he’d pull me in as needed.” Shaking my head, I take another swig of my drink. “I’ll call Fredrick today. Sounds like I need to be point of contact from now on.” Fredrick has been my attorney for years. Crawley talked me into hiring him when the band was beginning to catch the eye of labels.
Doug nods. “Luckily the label caught the new wording, questioned it, and had it fixed immediately. Crawley claimed it was an accident. The legal aid who missed it is a bumbling idiot, if you ask me. Your attorney must be fond of the kid because he got off with a warning. Reprieve for a first time fuck up or something like that.”
I don’t care about the legal aid. “Crawley’s got to go today. Fuck.” I pause, wondering how much I should tell Doug. “He says he’s got something on me. I wanted to find out what it was before I cut him loose so I wouldn’t be blindsided.”
Doug leans back, stress lines creasing his forehead. “Do you have any idea what it could be?”
I shake my head, gritting my teeth and still reeling from the legal fuckup. “Not a clue. I think he’s full of shit.”
Doug nods. “He’s probably bluffing. I’ve known the dipshit too long. It might be better to take your chances at this point and cut him loose.”
“Thanks, Doug.” I’m grateful for some sanity in all of this. “You wouldn’t happen to want to take the job, would you? You’d make a helluva band manager.” I flash him a grin.
Doug chuckles. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m quite looking forward to babysitting Tony. Keeping him far away from you and Lyric.”
I’m looking forward to that too, actually. “All right, then. Well, if you know any band managers who are up for the job, let me know.” I toss my napkin on the table and stand to shake Doug’s hand.
“You’re a good man, Wolf.”
“You too, Doug.”
Walking away from lunch, I’m feeling a million different things, but above all, I’m anxious. She’s coming back on tour. And I have no fucking clue what comes next.