Chapter One
Two years ago to the day, Devon had finally said goodbye to any kind of romantic relationship with Cindy Woodley. However, in that time, he had to see her more often than he could cope with easily.
Cindy and his best friend Troy were married; she had quit her job as a flight attendant and toured with their band, Sinful Souls. When they weren't touring, she and Troy lived on the same block as Devon. He got along with them well enough, and as minimally as he could, all things considered, but it was too damn much, too damn close, making life beyond painful for him. He tried to rub the ache in his temples away as he stared blankly at the television.
They’d started out as a garage band back in high school. Devon was the lead singer, Troy the lead guitarist, Barry Altman the drummer, Zachary McDaniel on keyboard. Breck Adams, on bass, had joined on with them a few years ago. Who could've guessed how popular they'd become?
“Fuck me.” Devon sighed, running his hand across the scruff on his face.
They were still on their game all these years later, and that was the one thing that kept Devon going most days. He stayed sober when he had to be presentable for business, or for when he had to perform, but on his days off, he got fucked-up.
And he fucked.
The latest example of which was the nameless brunette running around his place naked gathering her clothes.
Devon would hook up with anyone he could, which wasn't difficult, since there were always groupies around, and he didn't discriminate. If there was a warm willing female, he'd give it a go, didn't matter her looks, size, status, or anything.
In the past, Devon had a rep for being a man-whore, but that hadn’t been the case at all. He had gone for the occasional one-night stand, and let chicks hang all over him at after-parties, but later he'd go to the tour bus, or to his hotel room, alone.
Nowadays, he truly was a man-whore, and he didn't give a shit. It was easy with his status and good looks; short dark brown hair, brown eyes, decent body, and tattoos.
He'd showered, made breakfast, taken something for his headache, and now sat numbly on his couch drinking a beer.
His front door opened, and no surprise, his bandmate Breck walked in. The guy was always checking up on him. It used to piss him off, but he'd eventually gotten used to Breck showing up unannounced. Devon had finally realized it was nice to have someone who understood and cared. He nodded a greeting.
“Hey, man. Let's go hang out.” Breck clapped Devon's back.
“And do what?” Devon's eyes felt heavy, and he was nearly slurring.
Breck frowned at the beer in Devon's hand and then glanced around the place, which admittedly, was a mess. “Anything's better than hanging out here.”
“Yeah, whatever.” Devon attempted to rise from the couch, but he kept losing to gravity's hold.
Breck's arm shot out, preventing him from face-planting on the floor.
The brunette appeared in the living room freshly showered and dressed.
If Breck was surprised, he didn't show it. He gave the woman a nod. “Hey, how's it going?”
“Okay?” She shifted her weight, glanced between the two men, and chewed at her bottom lip. “So, uh, do you want my phone number?” She looked at Devon for a response, but none came.
Breck sat Devon back on the couch, and walked over to her. “Hey, sweetheart, that's not his thing. Do you want something to eat before you go?”
“No, I'm fine. Thank you.”
As Breck walked her to the door, his hand on the small of her back, Devon listened while pretending not to care. But he did; he hated this part. Guilt always consumed him the morning after, but even that couldn't stop his behavior.
“Do you have a ride home?” Breck asked.
“I do, my roommate's outside.”
He nodded and opened the door. “Try not to take it personal; he doesn't do relationships.”
***
Light invaded Devon's senses. “Shit.” He rubbed his eyes, and squinted into the brightness. Where was he? There was a 1950's Fender Precision bass guitar hanging on the wall across from him.
Breck's guitar. He was at his buddy's house.
Carefully moving across the bed, and testing his senses by letting his feet hang over the edge, he inhaled deeply.
“How you feeling?” Breck was leaning against the doorjamb with his muscular arms crossed. He looked more menacing than he actually was.
“Like crap.”
“How much longer do you plan on doing this to yourself?” His friend was glowering at him.
“What do you mean?” He feigned ignorance to avoid the topic.
“Go ahead and keep playing stupid, but while your liver is wasting away, the rest of us would like to keep the band going.” Breck straightened up, looking athletic and sweaty in his running gear.
They used to run together, a long while back, but he stopped right around the time he let Cindy go. In fact, Devon let much of his life go then, but not the music, never the music. He'd surely die a slow death if he had to give up music after losing the woman of his dreams. Music was his second love.
He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine. Whatever. Go shower, I'll take you out to breakfast, and we'll talk.”
Breck stared at his friend wordlessly for a moment, nodded, and walked away.
Devon showered in the bathroom attached to his room and dug through the chest of drawers next to the bed. Breck kept extra T-shirts and sweats there for just this reason. Not necessarily for Devon, but for anyone who'd unexpectedly spent the night.
As Devon dressed, he stood in front of the mirror and looked himself over. He was a little softer in the middle than he used to be, his usual military cut was growing out, and with circles under his brown eyes, he appeared tired, and older, like he had aged a lot in the past couple of years.
He glowered at himself and got dressed.
Once at the local diner, they placed their order before either one of them spoke.
“Well, I'm here, talk.” Breck eyed him over his coffee mug.
Devon cleared his throat, and took a swallow from his own cup of brew. “Where should I start?”
Breck raised his eyebrows. “Any-fucking-where would be great.” The man sounded exasperated.
“Yeah, right.” He paused to think. “Troy, Cindy, and I all grew up together.”
Breck nodded.
“I guess things started then. I used to have wet dreams over that girl.” Devon chuckled and shook his head. “I've never told another living soul about that, you're the first.”
“I'll guard your secret.” Breck gave a crooked grin as he put a fist to his chest.
The server appeared with plates stacked high with their meals.
“Don't think you can skip out ‘cause the food's here.” Breck chuckled as he removed a hair tie from his wrist and tied back his wavy brown hair so he could eat.
Looking down at his plate, Devon shook his head somberly. “I won't. I need to work this out. I'm going insane.”
Between bites Devon shared more. “We hung out a lot; our parents all worked together so when they had get-togethers, we'd see each other. We all went to school together, we'd play in each other's yards after school, took vacations together, and we all had sleepovers with Cindy. Basically, she filled our lives. And I fell in love.”
That was the first time he admitted it out loud and he flinched. It was as painful to say as it was to hear come from his own mouth.
“That was when we were younger, and in early high school I was always hard for her, but I never told anyone. Around that time, us guys started to jam together in my garage, messing around playing covers.” A crooked smile spread across his face. “We sounded horrible, sucked actually, but she was always there happy to support us, and making me feel like a rock star. I kept going, kept practicing. I wanted to be good for her so I could deserve her smile.”
Devon shook his head at the memory, and sighed before finishing off his meal.