Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
DECLAN
Me
Tell me three things about yourself.
Andy
Good morning to you, too.
I'm a Scorpio. My favorite color is red. Reading is my favorite hobby, but I need more time to do it.
Me
I love that, but dig deeper. Open up to me, mama. Let me see you.
Andy
I bet you would like to go deeper.
Me
LOL. You already know I'd like to get as deep in you as possible.
Andy
Creep.
Me
You started it.
Me
I'm serious. Open up to me.
Andy
What do you want me to say?
Me
What's your biggest fear? What are your hopes and dreams? What are you thinking about when you're in bed alone at night?
Andy
I should say something happening to Max is my biggest fear, but that's obvious. So, I'll say…being alone. I'm terrified of spending the rest of my life without someone who loves me. When I'm in bed alone, I think about my life. About the present and the future. I worry that this will always be my life, but sometimes, I fantasize and pretend I have everything I've ever wanted. As for my hopes and dreams, they're silly and unrealistic.
Me
You're not going to end up alone, Andy. That's not what you deserve, and I know you are destined to get everything you deserve. You're going to have it all. Your dreams aren't silly. Tell me what you want to be when you grow up.
Andy
A writer. I've always loved books and used to dabble in writing stories. In a perfect world, I'd be a famous romance author and married to the love of my life.
Me
One day, mama. It'll happen.
Andy
Wish I had your confidence.
Me
Yeah, most people do ;)
Andy
So fucking cocky.
Me
Can't wait to show you how COCKY I am.
Andy
Goodbye. I'm blocking you.
"Declan! Are you going to spend all day smiling at your phone, or are you going to get your pretty ass up and come play with us?" Cole smacks my shoe, causing me to remove my outstretched legs from the coffee table they'd been resting on.
"Keep talking shit, Cole, and I'll show you my pretty ass and give you something to play with." Adam and Damon chuckle while Cole flips me off.
"Who are you texting that has you smiling like that?" Damon asks, sitting beside me on the couch in our new studio.
"This girl I met." The mention of Andy is enough to bring another smile to my face. When I left yesterday, the look in her eyes had made me sick to my stomach all day. She doesn't believe I'll return, but I’m going to prove her wrong. There's no way in hell I'll be able to stay away. Not when she's finally starting to open up and let me in.
My inevitable departure is a problem for another day.
Adam looks at me, his worry evident on his pretty boy face. "The chick you told me about?"
"You told Adam about your girlfriend? You didn’t tell us about her." Cole pouts, acting hurt that he was left out of the loop.
"Have you fucked her yet?" Damon asks, because, of course, that's all he'd care about. He's the biggest playboy I've ever met. I'm sure there's not a woman in this world that would ever be able to tame his whorish ways.
"She's not my girlfriend, and no, we haven't fucked. She's just a friend that I'm still getting to know."
"All you need to know is how tight her pussy is," Damon says, patting me on the back with a smug look. Of course, sex is all that matters to him.
"Fuck off, man. Your biggest concern should be making sure the woman you're trying to get with is single." I flick his nose. It’s lined with purple bruises. He flinches, slapping my hand away and making me laugh.
Last night at dinner, while Adam, Cole, and I were getting ready to leave, a woman sitting at the bar caught Damon's eye. Unable to stop himself, he approached her and gave her his number just as her boyfriend came. The man confronted Damon, telling him the woman was his, but that didn't stop him. He made a few provocative comments that resulted in the muscle head boyfriend punching him in the nose. Luckily, it's not broken, but it did leave an ugly-looking bruise.
Serves him right for going after an unavailable woman. Not that it's ever stopped him before. In all the years I've known him, I'm surprised that a punch in the face is the worst thing to ever happen.
"Enough," Adam chimes in, standing from the stool he'd been sitting on. We got to the studio a couple hours ago and have been sitting around playing with the songs I've written, trying to find the right tune and adjusting the lyrics. "Benny will be here soon. Let's get this shit ready for him."
Benny had meetings this morning but promised to meet us at the studio to hear the new songs. The man was fucking thrilled when he heard that I'd been writing again and had new songs for him.
"Alright, pussies. Enough about my love life. Let's get started on this shit." Standing, I flip off Cole and Damon on my way into the recording room.
Black padding lines the room's walls, and a black and red drum set sits in the corner, waiting for Damon to do what he does best. Adam's custom PRS guitar sits in the stand beside Cole's bright red bass.
They join me in the studio, grabbing their equipment and getting into position. Placing the black headphones over my ears, I nod to Frank, the studio engineer, through the glass, signaling that we're ready to get started.
The red recording light above the door turns on, and he gives us a countdown with his fingers before we get started.
Holding my leather lyric book in my hand, I open my mouth and pour my heart into the songs I've been writing.
The pained words rasp out of my lungs, filling the space with my smoky, haunting voice, blending perfectly with the beat of Damon's drums, tangling with the electric sound of Adam's guitar.
Cole's bass cuts in, mingling perfectly with my voice and the other instruments.
I do what I do best. I tear my heart out and leave myself bleeding on the studio floor, offering the bloody organ to anyone who can relate to the music. To the lyrics that tell the story of my fucked-up mind.
Hands gripping the stand of the microphone, I close my eyes and allow the music to consume me, filling my veins with the only drug I can have.
Music.
By the time the first song ends, I'm panting, my heart beating against my chest, and I have to slam my fist against it to ensure it doesn't beat out of my chest.
"Fuck yeah!" Damon yells out as the final note of the bass rings out into the air. "That was fucking epic!"
"Not bad for the first time we've practiced it together," Cole adds with a proud smile. I know they're just as happy as I am to be back in the studio doing what we all love to do.
This is more than a career to us. Music is our everything. It's what saved each of us from our fucked-up lives. The day our first album went platinum was the night we had our I made it moment , and all four of us got matching tattoos.
We all have Riot tattooed across our knuckles. Over our left pec, we have the notes to the chorus of “Rockstar”—it’s the first song we ever played together and performed live.
We're in each other's veins.
Without us, there is no Riot.
With shaking hands, I remove the headphones, turning to face my brothers with a big ass grin on my face.
"That was electric," I say, fingers twitching with the need for a cigarette to take the edge off. I can't remember the last time we played together. It's been too fucking long, and that's all because of me and my shit. The look in their eyes tells me they missed playing just as much as I did.
"We're fucking back, baby!" I shout, pumping my fist into the air.
"We're back! Let's fucking do this!" Adam chimes in with a roar as the three of them rush toward me for an awkward-ass group hug.
God, it feels good.
We exit the recording room just as Benny walks in; he’s dressed to the nines in his custom-tailored Armani suit.
"Good job, boys. I heard you in the hallway. Can't wait to see that magic." He smiles proudly, looking like a dad who is proud of his four heathen sons who finally managed to get their shit together and act right. "It's good to see you, Declan." He places his hand on my shoulder and gives me a reassuring squeeze.
"You too, man. Missed your old ass."
He scoffs, removing his hand and running it along his jaw. "Watch your mouth. I'm still a handsome devil." He waves his arms out to the side, doing a slow spin in front of us. "Look at me. I'm young and well-dressed."
"Whatever you say, old man." Cole smacks his shoulder .
"Okay, Dad." Adam laughs, earning the middle finger from Benny.
"Fuck off. All I'm hearing is jealousy. You four wish you could be this good-looking when you're my age." As much as we enjoy giving Benny shit, we all know he doesn't look his age. The only sign that he's older is his salt-and-pepper hair. Otherwise, the man could easily pass for forty.
"Jealous little shits," he mutters under his breath, one hand smoothing over his hair. "Anyway, I have news, so sit down, shut up, and buckle up."
We do as he says. Adam and I sit on the couch while Damon and Cole sit on the arms of the sofa, our attention on our manager, the one man who believed in us when we were nothing and supported us every second.
We owe Benny everything, which is why no matter what bomb he's about to drop, we'll agree.
"Riot needs some good media attention right now. Fans miss you, and your ratings are dropping. You're losing followers and people are asking about you," he says coolly, looking between us, but we all know it's my fault. "Until your album is done and we can lock down dates for your tour, I've booked you a few shows to make up for the tour we had to cancel." My heart stops, and my stomach knots at the casual mention of a tour and performing again.
As good as it felt to play with my band, the fact is that I'm an addict and afraid to tour. I'm worried about being backstage at a venue where I know there's going to be drugs and alcohol present.
Going to a rock concert and not finding drugs and alcohol is like going outside and expecting the sky not to be blue.
Fuck. How am I going to manage this? I was supposed to have two months before I had to step on a stage in front of thousands of screaming fans.
"Where are we performing?" Adam asks.
"They'll be local shows here in Vegas. I've also confirmed the arrangements and dates for your shows in about a month. I've emailed the cities and dates to each of you."
Frantically, I reach into my pocket for my phone and find the email from Benny, finding our performance schedule.
Two weeks.
Four states.
Seven cities.
Eleven shows.
Holy fuck.
Beside me, Adam looks over at my phone to see the schedule. I turn my screen so he's able to view it.
"Declan, I know we agreed for you to stay in Loganville, but it might be easier for you to be here in Vegas so you'll be available to rehearse. The first local show will be next Friday. That'll be enough time for you four to get prepared and for tickets to be sold. Short notice, but your true fans will show up. My goal is for all the shows to be sold out." He speaks casually, unaware that I'm sitting here with a racing heart and anxiety creeping under my skin.
How the fuck can I do this?
Next weekend, I'll be on the stage again. In a month and a half, I’ll be spending two weeks on the road, performing eleven shows. Then, once our album is completed, I'll be on tour next year.
Each show is going to be a challenge. A challenge I'm not yet ready for. The temptation to use or drink will be constantly there in my face.
Am I strong enough for this?
As if sensing my inner turmoil, Adam touches my back. "You got this, man. We've all got you. We're going to crush this shit sober."
Cole nods in agreement, squeezing my shoulder.
"We all got this," Damon agrees.
Turning to Benny, I find his worried brown eyes looking down at me as if he'd just noticed that I was struggling .
Giving him a reassuring nod, I stand, shaking out my nerves to try and reassure myself, "Fuck yeah, I got this. It'll be fine. Let's do this shit," I say, hoping like hell my words will be true.
Me
You didn't ask, but I'll tell you my three things anyway.
My biggest fear is that I'll spend the rest of my life waking up and not recognizing the person looking back at me in the mirror. I don't have hopes and dreams anymore. Everything good that happens to me ends up crashing down around me, so I try living in the moment and not thinking about the future. When I'm in bed alone at night, I think about my son and how much I miss him. I think about how he was the one good I did in my life, but I fucked up and he's gone. Every night I think of what a piece of shit I am and how I don't deserve anything good.
I especially don't deserve you.