Chapter Twenty-Two

Cross

 

 

If I didn’t already hate Drink by this point for the dick he’d become and how he’d treated Indie, this would’ve made me, but now I absolutely despised him. He needed to go immediately. I charged down the hallway to try to find that fucker with Indie attempting to keep up. At some point, I’d lose her since she’d said she was going to talk to her dad.

“Did you see the text from Lawson?” Ransom asked, sliding up beside me.

I didn’t slow down, rage was my motivator, so he’d have to try and keep up. “No.”

“He wants us all in the dressing room. Now. Band meeting.”

“I’m going to find Drinkswine,” I said keeping my jaw clenched. There was so much angry energy inside of me that I was going to need to keep myself under careful control so I didn’t kill that asshole.

“I’d bet he’s going to be in the dressing room. We should go there. Why are you so pissed?”

I glanced at him, unable to believe he hadn’t heard the news. Then again, I hadn’t until Indie had told me about. But also, Ransom was right. Drink would probably be in the dressing room if Lawson had called a band meeting, so I turned in that direction.

After pacing through the door, I didn’t even take a beat before pushing into Drink’s space and got right into his face.

“What the fuck did you do?” I should’ve been yelling, but my voice had taken on a deadly even quality that surprised even me. I didn’t trust that I’d have any kind of control over the emotional storm swirling inside of me.

“Woah,” Dixon said as he tried to step between us. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Ask him,” I said, jamming my finger against Drink’s chest. I didn’t give a shit if he was bigger. I didn’t care that he was supposed to be one of my best friends. I just wanted him gone.

Drink puffed up his chest and said, “You need to get out of my face before I make you back the fuck off.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“I see someone’s read the news.” Lawson entered, slamming the door behind him. “Back up, Cross.”

I didn’t.

“Right now. Back the fuck up!” Lawson threw something against the wall, which banged its way down to the floor.

I took a breath to calm down and waited for Lawson to continue.

“Courting Chaos doesn’t need any more bad press right now,” he finally said through clenched teeth, his arms folded over his chest.

“I thought attention was a good thing,” Ransom countered from the couch.

“The right kind of attention. This one isn’t.” Lawson tapped on his tablet, then turned it toward us.

“Parents of a fifteen-year-old girl report that Eric Drinkswine, bassist for Courting Chaos, engaged in sexual relations with their daughter. Police are investigating the incident and no charges have yet been filed. We put a call into representatives of Courting Chaos; however, as of airtime have not received a response.”

“What the fuck did you do?” Dixon glared at Drink with his arms crossed over his chest. The air in the room thickened with every single word.

“I didn’t fuck a fifteen-year-old,” Drink said back while shaking his head. “I’d rather they know what they’re doing.”

Ransom raised his eyebrows and asked, “Then why is she saying you did?”

“The fuck I know.”

“What’re we going to do?” I asked Lawson because I didn’t want to deal with Drink anymore.

“First, I’ll talk to him alone and we’ll craft a statement. But I’m getting calls for interviews.”

“No,” Ransom, Dixon, and I all said at the same time.

“And I don’t want to be a part of his statement,” I said.

“Why the fuck not?” Drink spat at me.

“Because the mere fact that I think you could do this means I don’t want to be attached to the fucking things you say.”

“I’m with Cross,” Ransom added. Dixon nodded in agreement. None of us wanted the stench of Eric Drinkswine attached to us.

“You’re all a bunch of pussies,” Drink said, then laughed. “You’re afraid of some girl and a few reporters. I’ll do it. I’ll talk to anyone, anywhere.”

“I think everybody should just take a beat,” Lawson said. “Nobody talk to any reporters for now. You have a show tonight. Let’s focus on that. And, uh, maybe no girls on your buses for a while.”

“Fuck that,” Drink snapped. “The whole point of this entire shit show is the free access to girls willing to do anything you want them to do.”

“It’s really not,” I countered.

“Just because you’re hard for Indie Cinderstone doesn’t mean the rest of us aren’t here for the girls.”

“You’re fucking this up. You know that, right?” Dixon yelled. “We’ve worked hard to get here and you’re fucking it up.”

The tension in the room was far too thick and things were going to go south quickly if we didn’t break this up. Drink either felt it too or he got bored because he walked out of the room and slammed the door behind him.

“What do we have to do to get that asshole gone?” I asked.

“Proof. If we had any proof that he did this, the contracts wouldn’t matter.”

“What about Kissing Cinder?” Ransom asked. “Can’t they kick him off the tour? Isn’t there some clause about making them look bad?”

“I remember reading that,” Dixon said.

“They can,” Lawson said while nodding slowly. “But then that’s all of you. I think it might be better to let this whole thing play out.”

“Yeah, but then we’re stuck hoping he slept with a teenager,” Dixon said.

“Let’s not think about it that way,” I said back. Because that was disgusting. “Indie’s the one who told me about this and she was on her way to talk to her dad.”

“To tattle?”

“It’s all over the news. I’d guess Vince already knows.”

“So, Lawson,” Ransom said. “How is that search for a new bassist going?”

“I’ve got a short list.” Lawson scratched his chin. “But I think it’s time that got even shorter.”