Chapter Thirty-Nine
HENDRIX
“Love you too, Mom,” I say for the fourth time. My mom’s cheeks are wet from crying, and my dad has an arm wrapped around her. They’re both sitting in the family room where we gather for Christmas morning and lazy Sunday dinners.
I can’t wait for Zara to be part of those memories.
Right as I’m about to end the video call, she waves her hand and practically shouts, “Oh, and tell Zara we love her too!”
My mom always gets extra emotional when there’s bad news…
or she’s tipsy. Unfortunately for me, it’s the former.
After I visited with Dr. Deshmukh yesterday, I didn’t feel right about keeping the news from my family, especially my parents.
So I decided to call and tell them today.
My dad was pragmatic as usual, asking the logical questions while also making plans for my future as a musician.
My mom, however, was a basket of emotions.
She burst into tears and told me how devastated she felt for me.
That’s when Zara stepped in and tried to smooth things over, explaining the kind of treatment I would be undergoing and how it might help.
That improved things, but I can still tell she’s upset.
I don’t blame her, though. It’s not like I exactly took the news well either.
I don’t know how long Zara held me in that exam room while I cried. No, not just cried. Fucking sobbed.
Pretty sure it won’t be the last time, either.
“No need to shout,” I laugh. “She’s just in the other room.”
“Okay. Well, I just wanted to make sure she knew. I’m so glad you two found each other, and I’m so grateful to her for everything.”
“I know, Mom,” I say as I turn toward the desk where Zara’s laptop rests. She’s been on it doing nonstop research. I practically had to drag her off it to go get ready for tonight’s concert. “Me too.”
Dr. Deshmukh gave us a treatment plan that included a recommendation for a movement specialist. Most people would just pick the one closest to their home, right?
Not my girlfriend. She’s currently in the process of making another spreadsheet to compare and contrast all the movement specialists that were recommended to determine the best one, location be damned.
A small smile crosses my lips. “I’ve got to go,” I tell my parents. “I’ll call you soon.”
“Okay.” It’s my dad who responds this time. “I’ll have Saul reach out to Seether and inform them of your decision. He’ll also send replies to the rest of the bands.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I say, knowing I’m doing the right thing. I was hesitant to accept the offer even before I knew about the diagnosis. Now, I’m even more sure. With my future so uncertain, I know now is not the time to make any major life changes with my career.
I finally end the call and let out an exhausted sigh. It was a long, emotional conversation.
“You okay?” Zara asks as she emerges from the bedroom, looking hot as fuck. She’s fully embraced the rocker look since that night in LA when Elena helped her dress up. For tonight’s concert, she’s wearing a tight leather skirt and a cropped NYC shirt I bought her today when we went to Times Square.
“I am now,” I say, eyeing her up and down. “You look incredible.”
She grins. “Not sure this is appropriate attire for a doctor, but I decided I don’t care. I’m a rock doc. I can dress however I want.”
“That’s the spirit,” I say, then fall silent.
She notices the change in tone almost immediately. “What?” she says, crossing the room in seconds. “What is it? Did your parents say something? Are you worried about playing tonight?”
I hold her waist to steady her. “No.” I shake my head. “Nothing like that.”
“Then what—”
“Evans is coming back.” I watch her eyes go wide. She knows what this means. “I wasn’t supposed to say anything. Cash gave me a heads-up.”
“What did your dad say?”
I just shake my head. “Not a damn word. That’s what’s bothering me. Saul hasn’t said anything either. I thought that after I told my dad about my diagnosis, he’d finally mention it. Not as big of a blow when they’ll probably just ask me to leave the second I tell them anyway, you know?”
“You think Asher would really do that?”
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “I don’t think so, but it puts them in a tricky spot. I’m unreliable and Evans—”
“Is just coming back from extended time off.”
“This whole thing is confusing as fuck.”
She wraps her arms around my neck and kisses my cheek. “Well, there’s only one way to solve it.”
I slide my hand up her bare thigh. “Stay here and see what kind of panties are hiding under that skirt?”
She grins and playfully smacks my hand. “Nope, sorry. But I might show you later, after you go talk to Asher.”
Before I can decide when to ambush Asher with the news, I get a text from him instead.
Asher
Can you meet me in the green room before sound check today?
Well, I guess I can stop wondering how soon I’ll be leaving the tour.
Fuck. I don’t want to say goodbye to Zara.
Not so soon after my diagnosis.
It’s too new. Too raw.
I’m still too raw.
Maybe I can just tag along with them until the end of the US tour, then head home. We’ll still be apart for two months, but at least it won’t be right away.
Two months.
I try not to think about it as I type out my reply.
Me
Sure.
The treatment plan Dr. Deshmukh put together is thorough and aggressive.
She wants me to see a movement specialist right away.
They’ll try to rewire my brain’s fine motor patterns using different techniques like mirror therapy.
Depending on what goes on, we’ll discuss further treatments such as medications or even Botox injections.
Zara’s story about the guitar player who taught himself how to play with his left hand gives me hope. I guess if someone can do that, anything is possible.
But the only goal on my mind right now is to finish this tour and stay with the group of people I’ve come to consider family, but as our car pulls up to Madison Square Garden, I start to think this all might be coming to an end.
As we go inside, Zara takes my hand and asks, “Do you want me to come with you?”
I give a solemn nod.
We pass by crew members, and we both say hello as we follow the signs to the green room. When we finally arrive, I stop and take a deep breath.
Zara gives my hand an encouraging squeeze.
I push open the door and freeze.
Standing front and center in the middle of the room is Asher. Flanked on either side of him are Darius and Zander. And next to Zander is Evans Sterling, the original bass player for Manic at Midnight.
Fuck.
Is this an ambush?
Am I being fired?
It takes me a moment to notice Elena sitting toward the back, holding a sleeping Marisa in her arms. Next to her, Ridge sits in a tan suit and blue tie, typing furiously on his phone.
I turn to Zara for guidance, but she appears just as clueless. What’s going on here?
Zander gestures to the table nearby, filled with bottled water and snacks. Who the hell wants to munch on a bag of chips right now?
“Hey, Hen. Wanna take a seat?”
“You first,” I reply coolly.
He chuckles. “Okay, I guess we deserve that. This does look kinda sus.”
I refrain from commenting on how he’s too fucking old to be using a word like sus.
Instead, Zara and I take seats across from him and Asher. Darius picks the seat next to Zara, giving her a flirty wink I don’t appreciate. And Evans? Evans looks like a fish out of water, his eyes flicking from me to Zara to Zander before finally sitting next to Asher.
“This is all starting to feel a touch hostile,” Asher begins, his attention focused on me. “So I’m going to get right to the point. Hendrix, you’ve put us in a bit of a bind.”
My heart begins to race, and my eyes dart around the room.
Who told them?
My dad would never…
“When we brought you on, we knew we’d like you. Zander spoke highly of you. What we didn’t expect…was how quickly you’d become someone we couldn’t afford to lose.”
“What the fuck?” I mutter under my breath, causing Zander and Darius to chuckle.
“But a band can’t have two bass players,” he says, turning his gaze from Evans back to me. Then he shrugs. “Or can it?”
“I don’t understand.”
“He’s asking you to join the band, dipshit.” Zander grins from across the table.
I turn my attention to Evans because surely he can’t be on board with this idea. He’s the bass player, after all.
“Hey, Hendrix. It’s been a while,” he says softly. That’s when I realize how different he is. The Evans I remember was loud and boisterous, always up for a good time.
This version of Evans seems to have gained some much-needed weight on his gangly frame. His cheeks are flushed, and his once-long brown hair is cut short and close to his scalp.
“Good to see you, man. This is Zara Valentine.” I introduce him. “She’s the in-house doctor. And my girlfriend.”
They exchange pleasantries, followed by a brief, awkward silence as Evans rubs his face and exhales. “Right, so Asher’s been covering for me, yeah? Telling everyone I just needed some time to myself, but the truth is, I just got out of rehab a couple of months ago. I’m an alcoholic.”
“E—” Darius rises from his chair, walks over to his friend, and pulls him into a tight hug. After a few hushed words and a pat on the back, Darius doesn’t return to his seat and instead takes the one next to Evans. “Why didn’t you tell us? We would have been there for you.”
“I was ashamed,” he admits. “After everything that happened with Mitch, I couldn’t believe I let things get that far. I should have known better, you know? I should have learned my lesson.”
“Addiction doesn’t follow the rules,” Zara chimes in, her voice gentle and encouraging.
She might think she let her emotions override her judgment regarding my diagnosis, but I believe it’s those same emotions that make her an incredible doctor—a compassionate one.
“It’s not logical. It’s a disease, and it doesn’t care about what’s right or wrong. ”
He nods. “I know that now. I do. But at the time, I felt like I let everyone down.”
“You did the opposite,” Asher says. “You made us proud. You recognized that you needed help, and you went and got it. But now that the truth is out, you need to know we’re here for you. So tell them what you told me when you rang me up and said you were ready to come back.”
His throat bobs. “I want to play again. I want to be here with you guys. You’re my family, and not being here feels wrong. But I’m not sure I can handle the pressure of playing full time. I’m afraid—” His voice cracks. “I’m afraid the stress will get to me, and I’ll relapse.”
“And we would never want to put you in that position, Evans. Which is where you come in,” Asher says, pointing at me. “We know it’s unorthodox to have two bass players, and I know it’s asking a lot of you when you have better offers out there.”
“I don’t.” I cut him off, knowing now is the time to speak my truth before they get their hopes up. “I turned them all down.”
“What?” I hear everyone say at once. Even Elena, in the far back, yells something in surprise at my declaration.
“Why would you do that?” Darius is the one who asks the obvious question.
I turn to look at Zara, and she gives me an encouraging smile. “Well, as it turns out, I also have something to tell you, and once I do, you might want to think twice about bringing me on as a band member.”
Asher’s brows furrow. “What could change our minds?”
“I recently found out that I have a condition called task-specific focal dystonia. It’s a neurological disorder that basically causes a disconnect between my brain and my nerves.”
“Like ALS?” Zander’s face pales.
“No.” I shake my head. “Nothing that severe. This only affects my ability to play the bass. It only affects my right hand.”
“Are you serious?” Darius looks wrecked. I’ve never seen him so serious and solemn. It’s weird as fuck.
“I wish I weren’t,” I reply. “Zara and I met with a neurologist yesterday, who confirmed it. I’m starting treatment, but I can’t guarantee how long I’ll be able to play at my current level, if at all. You’d be safer going with someone else as Evans’s backup. I’m too risky.”
The whole table falls silent, and I wait for it.
The apologies. The sympathetic glances. The relief that it’s not them…
I wouldn’t blame them for any of it.
“Our offer still stands,” Asher says, and I hear Zara gasp.
I look up at him in surprise. “Are you all crazy? Did you not just hear what I said?”
“We did.” Darius nods. “We just don’t care.”
“We care,” Evans interjects, waving his hands and giving Darius a sharp glare. “What this tosser is trying to say is that it doesn’t matter to us.”
“You’re family,” Asher states. “We take care of our family.”
“Yeah, man,” Zander agrees. “You’re stuck with us.”
I hear Zara sniffle, and I turn to see a tear trickling down her cheek. I catch it, and she smiles happily up at me.
“Fucking hell,” I mutter. “The woman I love is here. I wasn’t going anywhere anyway. Might as well play some music while I’m here.”
“That’s the spirit!” Darius cheers.
“I’ll take it.” Asher shrugs.
Everyone congratulates me, and hugs are exchanged. Elena and Zara both cry. The guys dump water bottles on Evans’s head as a welcome-home tribute. Darius eats five bags of chips. Ridge finally puts down his phone, but only to come over and tell me my contract will be coming soon.
All business, that guy.
I wrap an arm around Zara’s shoulder, feeling lighter than I have in months, despite having one of the hardest weeks in my life.
And it’s all due to the people in this room.
A techie sticks his head in the room and says, “Sound check in twenty, guys.”
Evans and I turn to one another.
“How do you want to do this?” I ask, wrapping an arm around Zara’s shoulder. “You wanna rotate? Or work out a schedule?”
He shrugs, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Rock, paper, scissors?”
“Tonight, you’re both playing,” Asher announces, much to our surprise. “We’ll figure out the logistics during sound check, but this is one announcement we are not delaying.”
“Amen to that,” Zander mutters.
Asher heads out, and the rest of the guys follow close behind, patting me on the back and congratulating me again.
Soon, it’s just Zara and me.
I pull her into my arms, feeling like the luckiest damn person on the planet. I know the road ahead will be scary and uncertain, but if there’s one thing I’m sure of, it’s her.
“Story Time,” I say, as my lips curve into a smile. “Once there was a rock star who fell for a ridiculously hot doctor…and she set his world on fire.”