Chapter 19
Liza hugged her two friends then sat at the square table with the snowy linen tablecloth in the gorgeous restaurant. The huge window gave them a perfect view of the sun setting over the Pacific Ocean. She’d been tense ever since she’d returned from Tampa less than a month ago, and a night out with the girls was exactly what she needed.
Taking her seat, she raised her eyebrows at Emily. “Someone’s showing off. I can’t afford to eat here when it’s not on SLAM’s dime.”
Emily grinned. “I love this job. And I couldn’t wait to use my discount, so order whatever you want. It’s my thank you for helping me get this job, Liza.” She shifted to Nikki. “And both of you for helping me with my resume.”
Nikki picked up her menu. “You just started this week and already get perks. I’m so jealous. Event Coordinator for the Opulence Hotel. Now that’s glamorous.”
Liza assured Nikki, “We’ll find something awesome for you too.”
“I know. But I have a job, Emily’s need was more urgent.” A wicked smile curved Nikki’s mouth. “Although I was tempted to apply for the job, because…look around this place. This is the life.”
The waiter stopped by their table. Once they ordered, Liza asked, “So what’s the most exciting thing about your job so far?”
“Let me think.” Emily bit into a slice of warm, crusty bread. After swallowing, she went on, “I’m getting up to date on a few weddings and conferences we’re doing this spring and summer. One stands out though—that wedding has a baseball theme.”
“Baseball?” Liza looked up from buttering her bread.
“Like…the game?” Nikki asked.
“Like they want a batting cage at the reception.” Emily took her wine from the waiter and sipped it.
Liza tried to picture that. “How will you pull that off?” She didn’t have a clue how to set up a batting cage. Or why anyone would want a baseball-themed wedding.
Em laughed, clearly happy. “Anything is possible with money. They met at a baseball game, and this is what they want.”
“Wow,” Liza said. “If I were planning a wedding, it wouldn’t be with a baseball theme.” Her own marriage at city hall seemed more romantic than that.
“My dream would be a destination wedding in Italy, or maybe Hawaii.” Nikki’s eyes gleamed. “Or Greece.”
“Not me. I just want my brothers not to embarrass the shit out of me at my wedding,” Em groused.
Liza grinned at her. “Not only will they torment you, Ben will probably help them. You should elope if you ever marry.”
“The way you did it might be smarter. Simple and no fuss. Way less expensive too.”
“You mean the knocked-up quickie?” She scrunched her nose. “Or as some social media site called it, Lying Liza’s trap.” She really needed to stay off that website, Bring Gene Hayes Home. The headlines and stories, like Lying Liza Banned from Savaged Illusions Tour, stung.
“Assholes,” Em muttered. “Where are they getting this stuff?”
“Maybe someone on the band’s road crew is leaking it,” Nikki suggested. “They must overhear the band talking about things.”
“I don’t know. But it was like this when I was fourteen. No matter what my aunt and the prosecutor’s office did, things got out to the media. Reporters and creeps dug through our trash. They even hounded my two younger cousins. The media finds out stuff, or they make it up. The truth doesn’t matter. People love the sensationalism.”
“It matters to me,” Em said.
“And me,” Nikki added. “This whole thing is surreal.” After chewing a bite of her steak, she went on. “I can’t believe Jagged Sin pulled their shit together enough to release an album.”
Liza nodded. “And now it’s this huge indie rock feud between them and Savaged Illusions. The last week, it’s almost all Justice talked about.”
“He’s excited about coming home though, right?” Em said. “You guys will find out the baby’s sex at your ultrasound.”
She barely tasted her shrimp. “He says he is. He’s flying in tomorrow afternoon, and the appointment is Thursday morning.”
“Liza.” Em leaned forward. “Is something wrong? You guys aren’t fighting, are you?”
“No. Nothing like that. I just miss him, and you know…” It’d been three weeks since she saw him in Tampa. “I had to reschedule the ultrasound once because something came up.” They talked, and she sent him her pages, same as usual, except he’d been more distracted the last few days. Now she was being the downer. “But he’s coming home, and that will help. Oh, and I have news.”
“What?” Emily dug into her fish.
“I got an offer to appear on IRB’s TV show in the Rock Wives segment.”
Nikki set her fork down. “Oh my God, Liza! You have to do it!”
“Sh.” She didn’t want anyone to overhear. Her nerves tangled. “I’m thinking about it. I’ve told Keith no in the past, but—”
Em slapped her hand on the table. “Why the hell not?” Her eyes blazed fire. “It’s time you fought back against the media.”
She was torn, knowing how easy it was for anything she said or did to be twisted. “The last time I was in an interview with IRB, that’s how Gene Hayes found me. Plus, the band wants me to stay quiet.” Just like her aunt and grandmother had.
“That’s bullshit,” Emily snapped. “I’m getting really damned tired of hearing you defend this crap.”
“I negotiated a little and got Keith to agree that if I do the Rock Wives segment, it’ll be about the project I’m passionate about. We’ll still touch on being married to Justice, life as a rock star’s wife, but I can really put this program out there.”
“SLAM Heroes?” Nikki asked.
That was what drew her to the idea. She could show people how much most of their fighters cared about helping victims feel safe. It was her chance to really showcase her beloved project that she’d developed with Drake’s invaluable help. She refused to talk about Gene Hayes, except in the context of how Liza understood how scary it was to testify and face your attacker in court, and how that led her to establish the SLAM Heroes program. “Sloane and publicity are okay with it. I just have to talk to Justice.”
“You are not asking his permission.” Em glared.
Liza hated the way that sounded. “No, I wanted to—”
Her phone played “Expired Hero,” her ringtone for Justice. He didn’t usually call this early in the evening. He was playing in a club tonight…somewhere. “Uh, that’s Justice.” Tugging out her phone, she answered, “Hi.”
“Beth, World Rock Stage posted the short list for Indie Breakout Band. We’re on it! We made the short list.”
She flushed with excitement. “Congratulations! How many bands?”
“Five.” He listed them. “According to Christine, the only one who’s real competition is Jagged Sin.”
He sneered that name though the cell. Liza smiled. “You’ll win, rock star. This is your time. We’ll celebrate after you get home tomorrow.”
“About that—”
Her heart dropped into her stomach.
“—I can’t make it home, Beth. I’m sorry.”
She closed her eyes as disappointment crashed over her. “I rescheduled the ultrasound for you. Don’t you want to know our baby is healthy? If we’re having a boy or girl? Justice—”
“We’re in the chase now, sweetheart. We’re flying to New York tomorrow for a round of cocktail parties, interviews and a photo shoot. There’s nothing I can do.”
“You could come home.” Her eyes pricked, and that pissed her off.
“Beth, please, I know you’re disappointed, but this is important. If we get the Indie Breakout Band nod, we go to the World Rock Concert in France. That will make our careers.”
“More important than our child?” Or her? She could hear the pleading tone in her voice and hated herself. She was in the middle of a restaurant with two friends. Snap out of it. She wasn’t doing this now.
“Of course not. Can you reschedule the ultrasound? Maybe in a couple weeks?”
“No.”
She heard voices and a female giggle in the background of the call.
“I’m on the phone,” Justice snapped. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
Liza took a slow breath, trying to drown the ugly jealousy swimming around her brain. “Who was that?”
“River and two chicks he’s practically wearing as skin. I called to share the good news. I’m sorry I can’t be there Thursday, but you can send me a video.”
She wondered if those skintight chicks would be going with them to New York while Liza sat at home. “Will I be sending you a video of your child’s birth too?” Did that sound bitchy? Because it felt pretty damned good.
“Fuck. Are you really doing this? I’m busting my ass traveling the entire country, singing four to seven nights a week in different venues, trying to make it. For you and the kid.”
“That’s a lie. It’s for you, for your dream, the one that drives every decision you make.” Like banning me from the tour. “I’ve been supportive, I’ve sacrificed. All I asked you to do is come home one time to see your child’s ultrasound.” She cut off before her voice broke and weeks of pain, fear and loneliness spilled out.
“You’re overreacting and stomping my balls because I can’t make one doctor appointment. This is my job, Beth.”
And she was only his wife. The one he’d knocked up and felt obligated to marry. She stared down at her pretty rings he’d had made from his grandmother’s diamonds. She loved them so much.
She loved him.
But each day it felt like they were being torn apart. It was a physical pain, as if something were being ripped from her body.
“Beth? I’m sorry. Christ, I’m just…I can’t do it.”
For a horrible second, the pretty restaurant in San Diego faded away, and Liza was a kid again maybe about eight, sleeping in some crappy trailer and woken by screaming.
Her mom and her latest boyfriend—another stringy-haired, drugged-up musician—had been out screwing around. Liza had snuck out to see her mom screaming and throwing whatever she could, her face a twisted mask of hatred. The place had stunk of old beer, cigarettes and broken, bloody dreams.
Was that who she and Justice would become? Ravaging each other?
Had her aunt been right all along?
Pressing her fingers against her stomach in a desperate attempt to protect her child from the pain she’d suffered, she got control of herself. “You’re right. It’s one appointment. We’ll talk later. I’m happy for you guys making the short list.”
“Shit, they’re calling me to get back onstage for our last set. I’ll call you tonight, okay? Love you.”
The line went dead, and heaviness settled on her chest.
“You okay?” Nikki laid a hand on her arm.
She tried to shake off the ghost of her past. She was here in a lovely restaurant with two friends who’d obviously heard enough of the conversation to get the gist. This was her life, and she’d deal with it. “Fantastic. I’m a rock star’s wife.” She shoved her half-eaten dinner away. “Where’s the dessert menu?”
* * *
“Making that short list is legit.” Lynx slugged down half his beer.
Justice finished off his brew in the stuffy tour bus as he and Lynx waited for the rest of the band to get their asses on board. They had an early morning flight to New York, and he had to wind down and try to get some sleep. “Best night in a long time.” Or it had been until he talked to Beth.
Fuck.
He leaned his head back on the couch, legs stretched out and feet touching the opposite wall. She’d been so damned upset. Because you let her down, and you damn well know it.
He had to call her back now that the night’s concert was over. But what would he say? Sorry, but I’m not giving up this shot? Or how about, I’d already cancelled the flight before I called you? Yeah, that’d be even better.
“What’s eating you, J?”
This was his oldest friend. He didn’t have to lie. “Beth. What am I supposed to do here?”
Lynx set his bottle on the floor and picked up his sticks, tapping out a beat on the seat. “This life fucks up a marriage. You’ve seen the shit that goes on. Some women can do it, but they’re rare.” He cut his gaze over. “Regrets? I mean you could be chasing pussy. Hell, you wouldn’t have to chase, they’re all over you.”
They were all over Lynx too. He’d had a girl in the bus tonight while they were on break between sets, and Justice had been standing in the dirty alleyway talking on the phone to Beth. He closed his eyes. He was a guy, so sure, he looked, and yeah, temptation happened. But he wasn’t a cheater. “If I’m going to fuck around, I’d tell Beth we’re done. I’d own that.”
“Straight up way to be. I hate liars. But your deal with Liza? That’s harder. She heard us talking about banning her from the tour. She’s dealing with the smears in the media. Everything is leaking out, even that you two have a postnuptial. Then you bail on the ultrasound, and, well, you know chicks and babies.”
But this wasn’t just a chick and a baby, they were his. “This is what Simon warned me about.” Going after superstardom didn’t mix with love. You couldn’t have two all-consuming passions. Something had to give.
“Yeah, and you bail on us now, I’ll kick your ass. All of us will. We didn’t work this hard to get sabotaged by our lead singer.”
Exactly. Caught between a rock and a hard place.
“Finally, Christ, I’ve been texting you for forty minutes.” Simon’s voice came from outside the bus. “We need to roll.”
“Fuck off.” The bus shifted as River climbed aboard and turned down the aisle.
Justice caught a whiff of him. “You smell like a perfume factory. Open a window.”
River swung his gaze to him. “It’s called getting laid with girls, not my hand. Try it sometime.” He grabbed a beer out of the fridge. “So the short list for Indie Breakout Band.” He lifted the beer in a toast. “To us, best damned rock band. And no one to give a shit beyond a hard fuck.” He downed several swallows of the brew.
Justice could almost feel the loneliness rolling off River, even though he’d clearly just been with a girl or two. Both Lynx and River didn’t have family. Well, Lynx had had his mom until she’d overdosed.
But River? Nada. He didn’t even remember a lot of his childhood or how he came to be wandering the streets one night as a kid. The peacemaker and charmer in their band was fraying at the edges. “Not true. Drake, Sloane, all the guys give a fuck,” Justice said. That was what Fighters to Mentors gave them—a connection to people who cared what became of you.
He opened his mouth to ask if River had texted Cassie, the sweet, funny girl who always cheered him up, but Gray and Simon boarded, followed by their driver. In five minutes, they were rolling out.
“Only competition on that short list is Jagged Sin.” Simon passed more beers around where they’d settled at the table.
“Yeah,” River agreed. “Who’d have thought we’d ever consider them real competition.”
Justice lifted his head, his mind spinning. “They’ve upped their game, I’ll give them that. But we’re better.” And he still hated the bastards, especially now that they were in business with Hayes.
“We don’t take our foot off the gas now, it’s pedal to the metal,” Simon said. “We have to stay focused and work harder.”
He started to answer when his phone rang. He glanced at the screen.
Beth.
For an instant, he considered sending it to voicemail. He just wasn’t up for another dip in the guilt pool. But he wasn’t a pussy either, and Beth deserved better. Getting up, he answered, “Hi, baby. I’m sorry about—”
She cut him off. “I’m calling about your dad. The transitional center called earlier. He’s sick with a cough and running a fever, and he was trying to leave.”
“Leave? Where?” He stopped at his upper bunk, pressing his forehead to the wood frame.
“Apparently he comes and goes from the center, often spending nights on the street instead of his room. They called me because he’s running a one hundred and two fever and coughing. He won’t go to the hospital, so I picked him up and brought him home. Ben came by and diagnosed bronchitis. Nikki went to the pharmacy to pick up the prescription Ben called in for him.”
The bus turned a corner, and Justice gripped the edge of his bunk to brace himself. He tried to absorb it all. “Is he going to be all right?”
“I think so. I had to beg him to come home with me, and then to let Ben look at him. He’s…haunted. I know it’s the fever, but I hate seeing it.”
He climbed into his bunk and stretched out. God he was tired. “It’s not working, is it? He’s not getting better with the center’s treatment.” His dad’s head was still in that war zone he’d physically left years ago.
“This is who he is now,” she said gently.
He wasn’t the father Justice remembered. Part of him understood why his mom had left—sometimes it was just too hard to stay. “He can get better than this, he has to try.”
“He’s trying, or he wouldn’t go back to the center when he leaves.”
Her soft kindness overwhelmed him. He pictured her there at home, dealing with his sick and tormented dad. What if Noah woke up screaming? What would Beth do? Damn it. This was Justice’s big chance, but it was his dad. His wife. His kid. “What do you want me to do? He won’t listen if I talk to him. Even if I came home…he’d leave. There’s no point.”
Silence rocked between them.
“Beth? Are you okay?”
“No point in you coming home?”
It struck him how that sounded to her. “I meant with my dad. Not you. Of course I want to see you, but I can’t right now.” He was fucking this up worse.
“What’s happening to us?”
Her whispered pain cut into his heart. “It’s just stress. We’ll get through this. We knew it’d be hard, right?”
“It feels like you’re slipping away from me and our family into the life of a rock star.”
“What am I supposed to do?” He fought to get the defensive tone out of his voice. “You knew what my life was going to be like when you married me. You knew I was going on tour.” But she hadn’t known she’d be banned, now had she?
“That’s true. We had to work in a quick marriage ceremony around your release and tour.” There wasn’t any bitterness in those words, just a sad resignation. Was she having real regrets?
Not knowing what else to say, he blurted out, “Do you want me to come home? I can try to get a flight tonight, then fly to New York tomorrow.” And what, squeeze her in for a couple hours?
She sighed. “No, go to New York. Your dad’s fine here, it’s his home.”
The distance between them stretched like an endless chasm. He didn’t know how to reach across it. “I love you, and I need you to trust me. Can you hang in there with me? It’s only a few more weeks, then I’ll be home, and things will be the way they used to be between us. You’ll see, okay?”
“Okay, but I need the same trust from you.”
“Trust how?” One thing popped in his head. “Has that fucker Dillion been around again? If he—”
“No. Other than a one-line apology text from him, I haven’t heard a word from him or his fiancée. I was hoping to talk to you about this in person, but I’ve been asked to go on Rock Wives.”
“The IRB show?” They usually wanted the wives of rich stars for that segment. But Beth wasn’t just a rock star’s wife, she was the girl who ruined another rock star. Everyone wanted to get her story.
“Yes. It’s been hard, Justice. I sit here while people say things about me. Every day, there’s something on that Bring Gene Hayes Home site.” Her voice cracked. “They even had a story that my aunt who raised me had cut me off.”
Fuck. He hadn’t seen that one. He tried to think of something to say to make her feel better, but what?
“I want to do this interview. It’s a chance to show I’m more than the lying, scheming slut Hayes is putting out there. Most of the women on the show get to feature a cause, and mine is SLAM Heroes.”
She really wanted this, but it was too risky. “If you go on that show, it’s going to get all the protesters riled up. Who knows what shit Hayes will pull next? We’re in the final few weeks.”
He heard a shuddery breath. “I was hoping you’d trust me more than that. Believe in me.”
“I do.” Damn it. She didn’t ask him for much, but this could really backfire. Think. There had to be a way… Wait. “Beth, does it have to be right now? Can you do this after the tour? If we get the Indie Breakout Band nod, we’ll be going to Paris in May, so how about after that?”
“Will I be invited to go with you, or staying home while you’re in France?”
That punched him smack in his center. “You think I’d go without you? I know how much you’ve done and sacrificed to help us.” He’d damn well take her to Paris. In fact… “We could go a few days early and be tourists.” If they got that invitation to World Rock Stage, they were set, and even his band couldn’t object to Beth going with them. And if they did, he’d tell them to kiss his ass. He was taking his wife.
“A few days in Paris,” she said, her voice going warm with building excitement. “Like the honeymoon we never had. Real time together before the baby comes.”
Finally he’d found a way to make her happy and stay on track to superstardom. “We get that invitation for Indie Breakout Band, and we’re going to Paris.”
“All right, I’ll postpone Rock Wives until their fall taping. That’ll be after the baby comes. Now go win me a trip to Paris, rock star.”
He wouldn’t disappoint her again.
* * *
“Justice!”
The screaming girls kicked up his pulse, and Justice grinned and waved. Half the time he barely remembered what state he was in, but that thrill never died. Recognition. Adulation.
“Lynx, can I play with your stick?” another voice called.
“Anytime, baby!” Lynx called back.
“Justice, your wife is a skank!”
He froze.
Simon grabbed his arm. “Keep walking.” Once inside, they passed through the security check and made their way into the greenroom. Justice slammed his hand flat against a wall. “When will this shit stop? I swear—”
“I can help relax you.” A warm hand slid down his arm. Cloying perfume clogged his nose.
A flash went off.
“What the fuck?” Justice whirled away, startled to see a blonde chick with a huge rack purring at him. Behind her in the doorway was another woman with gothic-black hair and a pinched expression, backed up by a guy with a camera.
The dark-haired woman pushed in, forcing the blonde back. “I’m Rachelle from Thump Beat. I was told to meet you in here for an interview.” She glanced at the blonde. “You can come back later.”
River stepped in front of the blonde. “What’s your name?”
“Tiffany.”
“Nice to meet you, I’m River. As you can see…” he gestured to the reporter and camera, “…we have some business to take care of. But how about after the show, I buy you a drink?”
The girl melted. “Really?”
“Yep.” He eyed the badge around her neck. “You have a backstage pass, find me after the show.”
“I will.” The girl bounced in excitement as River deftly steered her out of the room.
“Is he really going to meet with her, or is that his brush-off line? Rumor is River’s a huge playboy,” the reporter asked.
Justice had forgotten they had an interview scheduled, and that had been an awkward start. Getting his head into the game, he shook the reporter’s hand. “I’m Justice, and yeah, River meant it. I won’t lie, River’s a total dog, but he genuinely likes women.”
River walked back in, and they all settled on the couch and chairs.
Rachelle began with, “This battle is heating up between Savaged Illusions and Jagged Sin. It’s down to you and them to get the coveted Indie Breakout Band from World Rock Stage. Do you guys think you can win the title?”
They were running neck and neck thanks to that damned Bring Gene Hayes Home website.
“One hundred percent,” Lynx said.
“Absolutely. We’re the better band,” Simon added.
She turned to Justice. “What about you? Do you think you can win when many rock fans hate your wife? Word is she’s been banned from your shows.”
Shit. Every fucking interview it came back to Liza. “You guys hear about this ban?”
River frowned. “No. Only thing on my banned list is Brussels sprouts. What about you, Gray?”
“Dude, you should try Brussels sprouts roasted with some garlic. Broaden your horizons.”
“Not happening. Brussels sprouts are demon food.” River turned to the interviewer. “Do you like Brussels sprouts? Tell Gray here I’m right. Brussels sprouts are creepy.”
Rachelle blinked. “Let’s stay on topic. Rumors are running rampant that your wife is cheating, and the baby might not be yours. The Bring Gene Hayes Home website posted today that you refused to go to doctor appointments and want nothing to do with the kid. Is it true?”
Justice surged up to his feet. Where the fuck were they getting this stuff? Jesus Christ. Jerking out his phone, he pulled up the site.
Justice Cade out partying in Manhattan while his wife goes to doctor appointment alone. There was a picture of him at one of the cocktail parties in New York, his arm slung around a redhead in a slinky black dress. She had her hand on his chest, her eyes screaming fuck me. In the bottom corner was a picture of Liza walking into a medical building by herself.
Yeah, he’d been a bit wasted, but he didn’t touch that girl beyond the pictures. He’d gone back to his room and read Beth’s pages featuring the threesome and jerked off, thinking of his wife.
Beth had likely seen this. She saw it all. Had he even talked to her today? He glanced at the picture again. Two days after that party, he’d called Beth from the airport, and she’d been sick with the same crap-ass cold his dad had.
And Justice had flown to the Midwest to continue his tour.
He shifted his gaze back to Rachelle. “Not a shred of truth. Liza’s my wife, and that baby is our child.” Daughter. They were having a girl. “And I’m damned lucky Liza is putting up with all this shit.” But how long would she do it? It’d been almost five weeks since he’d seen her.
He kept letting her down.
And then stuff like this? How would he feel if he saw a picture of Liza with some man all over her? Like Dillion. Oh fuck no, he’d kill the bastard.
He really wanted to kill Gene Hayes. More each day. Too agitated to continue, he said, “I have something to take care of. I’ll let you guys finish the interview.” Justice stalked out of the room. Winding around the hallway, he found an empty room, went inside and called his wife.
“Justice, don’t you have to go onstage?”
Her voice had the husky note he loved so much. He leaned against the wall. “I miss you, Beth. I walked out of an interview just to hear your voice. Talk to me. How are you feeling?”
“I’m better now. Cold’s gone.”
“My dad still showing up at night?”
“Sometimes. When I took him back the other morning, I talked to one of his counselors. He thinks you should come in to try some family therapy with your dad. He’s not forming any bonds there, and they’re worried. They’re hoping bringing you in will trigger a breakthrough.”
More pressure squeezed his heart. “This was the other day? Why didn’t you tell me?”
She hesitated. “I told them you were on tour and wouldn’t be back until the week after next. But I should have texted you right then, I’m sorry. I meant to do it when I got to work, but I walked into… Never mind. Sorry.”
What was he doing? “You have nothing to be sorry for. I know you were sick, sweetheart. I was just surprised since my dad didn’t even talk to me the one time I was there. I’ll give them a call tomorrow and set something up at the transitional center.”
“Will you be home sooner than expected?”
Tension crackled down the airwaves. “I don’t think I can, unless we cancel a show. If I do that, it costs us a fortune in penalties and ticket refunds.”
“I know.”
Right, and that was why she hadn’t rushed to tell him about his dad. The dad she was obviously taking care of. He had to tell her why he called. “Beth, the picture that came out today, I didn’t touch her once the photo was done.” He stared at the economy-sized packages of paper towels and toilet paper lined up on shelves. He was in a storage closet. Lovely.
The pause killed him before she said, “Okay.”
“You believe me, right?”
“I’m trying. I really am.”
Her pain ripped through the cell line and made him feel like shit. “It’s only another week and few days. Just hold on and I’ll be home. I’m not cheating on you.” He needed to get his ass back to San Diego and help her, take care of her. Go to a damned doctor appointment.
“Good luck tonight. Have a great show.”
She obviously didn’t want to talk about it. “I love you, Beth. I’ll text tonight to see if you’re still awake after the concert.”
“Okay. Love you.” She hung up.
He stood in the storage room, cold fear seeping in. When had things gotten so hard and awkward? They’d been a lot of things—honest, raw, pissed, happy, and turned on. But never this distance until after Tampa. It just kept growing.
He couldn’t lose her. The old sense of abandonment closed around him. A pit of loneliness engulfed him, making him feel so fucking worthless.
Shoving off the wall, he headed out of the dank room. Time to get out onstage.
The one place he could make them love him.