Dead Rockstar (The Dead Rockstar Trilogy Book 1)

Chapter 25

“Stormy.”Sloan”s voice, full of tears, was near my ear. “Fuck, Stormy, come on. Wake up. Wake up.” There were other voices, too, all of them frantic and scared.

“Give her a minute. Just one more minute.”

“What are we going to do? If she doesn”t wake up, we need to call an ambulance, the police...”

“Just give her another minute.”

“Goddammit, does she ever eat?” Sloan again. “She”s wasting away. I never see her eat. No wonder she faints at the drop of a hat...”

Then a voice, blissful near my face, full-throated and defensive. “I tried to give her some of my steak. I tried to buy her a Big Mac. It”s not my fault I fell in love with a fucking vegan who lives on coffee.”

“You could have taken better care of her-”

“Like you did? Lying to her all this time? You might oughta back up and give me some space.”

“Is she gonna be ok? Y’all, Stormy ain’t gonna die, right?” Tess. So he did actually still care, somewhere deep in there. “I’m on parole, y’all. If I get busted in a house full of dead folks, I’ll go to prison.” Then again, maybe not.

“How many times did I warn her? I told her to get the hell away, for her own safety. Did she listen?”

“Stop making excuses and help me get her up.”

“Where the hell are you going, Tess? Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

“If she doesn”t make it, I swear to Lucifer I’ll-”

“What? Kill yourself a third time? Shut up and help.”

I opened my eyes.

Phillip was staring down at me with his beautiful, almond-shaped green eyes, his face full of worry and love and fury. Sloan and Lee were hovering behind him, all three faces lined with concern, Sloan”s with a side of super-pissed.

I reached a shaking hand out to my love, toward his face, and he grabbed it in his own, clutching at my fingers, as he leaned down to kiss me. His cheeks were glistening with tears.

“How...?” I croaked, trying to sit up. He brushed my hair from my face. I tried again. “I saw him...he shot you...” I gestured to get up, my head still swimming, my belly still rolling, as Phillip helped me up into a sitting position. The room seemed uneven, out of balance, like the foundation had fallen.

Phillip cradled me, pulling my head to his chest, moving my hair out of my eyes. He kissed my forehead. “He didn”t shoot me, Stormy.”

“He didn”t?”

“Well, he shot, but he missed. He...” His voice cracked and he pulled his hands away from my face. The rest of the room came into view. “Jason jumped in front of me.” I looked around the room. Sloan and Lee were still hovering, Sloan”s face full of tears and Lee”s shell-shocked. Nathan was standing off to the side, his hands behind his head, pacing back and forth, muttering. I suddenly realized why the room felt so off kilter.

There were two bodies on the floor in the corner. One was Guthrie, still slumped against the wall, his oddly empty eyes even more vacant. The second was Jason Langley, sprawled out peacefully like a kid in bed who had thrown off the covers, his beautiful curly brown hair falling over one blue eye. They were both dead.

“Lee shot him,” Phillip said in a quiet voice. “But it was too late.”

The magnitude of it hit me and I began to wail. Jason had given his life for Phillip. Lee had shot his own father. All of this had happened because of me and the deal I”d tried to broker. The deal I”d thought would save them all. The death card. I kept pulling it, again and again. It would never stop.

“Where”s Tess?” I asked, tears flowing down my face.

“He ran,” Sloan said, pushing her hair back with a shaking hand. She gestured to the front door, which was standing wide open. I could hear the sound of crickets chirping in the night, and off in the distance, the faint sound of crashing waves. “Right out the front door. Like the coward he is.”

I swallowed hard, staring at the open front door, beyond which lay the cool, peaceful darkness, the open sky, the soft, powdery sands of an empty Driftwood Beach, stark with bleached, skeletal tree limbs like beckoning fingers, calling me to the rolling ocean…and far off in the horizon, the pale moon, cold and soundless, steadfast and true.

“Tess always was a fucking coward,” I said. I surveyed the scene, grave. Then I stood up on trembling legs, Phillip holding my arm steady. I used both hands to wipe the tears from my cheeks with one movement, feeling the strength in my fingers, knowing without knowing what they needed to do. I took a deep, shaking breath. I leaned forward and planted a gentle kiss on Phillip”s beautiful mouth. Then I clasped my powerful fingers and cracked my knuckles outward, shaking my head to clear all of it away, all the distractions, the chaos, the outside noise. There was no time for it now. I had work to do.

“Right,” I said, surveying the two bodies on the floor. “I guess I”d better get started.”