Chapter 4
FOUR
DECLAN
The check-in process at the Hamilton Inn Hotel is fucking torture. The blue-haired girl behind the counter is so busy giving me googly eyes and giggling about everything that it drags out the process. If she fucking giggles one more time, I swear I’m going to take her pens and stab them in my ears.
Her name tag reads Lila , which is a perfect fit. Her mother must’ve expected she’d be easy when she grew up.
“You’ll be in room 107. First floor, right out those doors.” She sets a packet of room keys on the granite countertop. “I put you close to the front desk if you need anything else. I’ll be here until eleven.” She leans forward, her blue eyes batting seductively and her pink tongue peeking out to lick her thin lips.
Normally I’d invite her to my room and give her what she wants, but the thought of fucking yet another random, desperate woman isn’t appealing to me tonight. Maybe it’s the hot Nevada air. My mind has been fucked up from the moment I landed and discovered my best friends were banishing me to The Hills Have Eyes county. Grabbing the keys and handle of my suitcase, I grunt a quick “Thanks” before taking off through the double doors she pointed to and heading out in search of room 107.
Staying in a hotel isn’t ideal, and I sure as fuck wouldn’t have selected one that is so fucking far away from Las Vegas. I want to stay in Vegas with the rest of my band mates, but they feel it’ll be best if I stay in the small town of Loganville. Apparently I’m less likely to be recognized and less likely to be tempted.
I’ve been to Vegas enough times that I know where to go to get my next fix. But in Loganville, I don’t know anyone. I’m pretty sure the entire town is a retirement village based on the internet search I performed on the drive.
This town doesn’t even have a movie theater, for crying out loud.
Not that I go to the movies, but that shows how small this town is.
What the fuck have I gotten myself into?
The girl at the front desk appeared young enough to know who I am, but I don’t think she recognized me. I just think she found me attractive and hoped I’d show her some attention. I probably disappointed her.
I’m good at that.
The moment I get to the room, I’m thankful it’s clean. Tossing the keys on the nightstand, I leave my luggage in the middle of the room and flop on the bed, pulling my phone from my pocket, instantly calling Adam.
He answers on the fourth ring. “Hey, man. Did you make it in okay?”
“Fuck this town. I’m so far away from everyone out here.” I huff, pinching the bridge of my nose. “What if coming here was a bad idea?” I’ve never felt like I belonged anywhere. Never felt like I belonged in New York, even though that’s where I was born and raised. Didn’t feel like I belonged in Seattle while living there with my ex-wife. Now I’m in Nevada, and even though it’s only day one, I still don’t feel like I belong.
Will I ever find my place in this world?
That’s why I love touring. Different cities every night. Never having to figure out where I belong because it doesn’t matter since the cities I visit are temporary .
For all thirty-one years of my life, I’ve been lost, floating through life without a place to call home. Perhaps a part of me prefers it that way. I’m not good at being tied down.
Adam’s chuckle breaks me away from my inner pity party. “Quit complaining like a little bitch. Get some beauty sleep, eat, and the town will look better in the morning. We all need time to adjust.” I scoff. “Easy for you to say. You have Damon and Cole there to get through this change.” I’m aware of how whiny I’m acting, but I don’t care. I thought I’d have support around me while I struggle to remain sober.
“Get unpacked and try to relax. Come to Vegas in a couple of days to see us, or we’ll come to you. We’re not that far apart, Dec.”
Maybe it’s the fact I haven’t been this far away from any of my support team in a while that has me on edge.
Or maybe it’s the fact I desperately need a drink.
Sighing, I suck it up. “Yeah, you’re right. I think I’m just tired and will feel better after I get some sleep. Night, bro.”
“Night, man. Let’s talk tomorrow.”
Ending the call, I toss my phone next to me on the bed and roll onto my back. After a few deep breaths, I force myself to get up and unpack my toiletries before jumping into the shower to wash the long day of travel off my skin.
Two months.
I can do this.
All I have to do is remain sober and write new songs.
I can do this.