Chapter 30
SLI P
THE PRESENT – EARLY JULY
Half a bottle of vodka and two pain-killers had numbed me, but I couldn’t sleep after Maddy had left the villa. She constantly consumed my mind. But I wasn’t one to sit around and mope. That wasn’t my style. In the morning, I taped my hip up and went running around the vineyard with Cole and Ava until it screamed at me to stop. Idiot. That night, I went clubbing in Florence with Lewis and Tia, and popped party pills to make it through the night. The next day, I went to some fancy lunch at a local winery with Flint and Sutton and drank until I could barely walk.
But nothing stopped the ache in my chest.
Two days later, we left the villa and headed to Austria to meet up with our crew. Before the guys and I took to the stage in Vienna, I summoned my inner partying mood and hit our meet and greet. I smiled at the cameras. I cracked jokes and made everyone laugh. But on the inside, my focus kept slipping. Breaking. Failing.
Did Maddy honestly want to be with me? I didn’t fucking know. She’d said yes, but for the first time, her insecurities had tested my patience. I’d been adamant I wouldn’t let her mom’s meddling, my parents’ disappointment, or my friends’ concern get to me...but they had. I was tired of having to prove myself. Every day was a battle, and I was running out of ammunition.
I lacked decent sleep.
My hip burned with a new pain. Surgery had to fix my torn labrum.
But what if it didn’t?
Fuck . . . I had to keep my shit together.
Maddy and I would be okay. I had to hold on.
Stay strong.
Yep.
After this show.
My hand shook as I cut two fine lines of cocaine on the bathroom counter. I got this. I do. It’s just to help push through the pain and boost my energy levels. Two more months of touring, then I’d stop. Yes. I would.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
I bent forward, snorted the coke and hit the stage.
We rocked up a storm. The crowd loved us. They fucking loved us.
At the after-party, the music was loud and thudded through my veins. Phil would’ve gone crazy in this place. The women were gorgeous. They smelled so good when they leaned in for a selfie. But none of them were Maddy.
Fuck this shit. I had to get out of there. I needed fresh air. I needed to be alone.
I stormed out of our gathering and headed back to my hotel, Beckett on my tail.
Standing in the doorway to my room, I dismissed him with a wave of my hand. I closed the door, fell onto my bed, and texted Maddy. It was mid-afternoon back home. I prayed she was free .
ME: Babe? You able to chat?
Maddy: Just about to take Mom home from the hospital. She’s doing well.
Me: Awesome.
Maddy: How was the show tonight?
Me: Wild. Missing you like crazy.
Maddy: Me too. Gotta go. Chat later.
Fuck. Now what? I loved talking to Maddy after the show. It helped me wind down. Calmed my mind. But after booze and cocaine, I was as wired and jittery as a jackrabbit.
I jumped up and grabbed my acoustic guitar. Walking around my room, I strummed at the strings. I sang some of our songs and poured my heart and soul into playing, singing every lyric for Maddy.
But then the low hit. Sweat broke out on my brow. My hands shook and shivered. Heaviness pressed against my chest and pummeled my racing heart.
I sank onto the edge of the bed and sang.
When did the road bend this way?
Was on the highway, coming your way.
Took a wrong turn, got lost in the dark,
Want to come home to you, leave this park.
Take my hand, show me the way, be my guiding light,
I’ve loved you for so long, don’t want to give up the fight.
Need you here, need you now, right next to me,
I’m coming home, baby, please wait for me.
I glided my fingers over the strings. With each chord I struck, the tension in my shoulder blades and neck tightened. The words that had fallen from my lips sank into the far corners of my mind. I’d told Maddy I was prepared to do anything for her and how much I was willing to sacrifice to be with her, and she still didn’t believe or trust me. When I moved in with her, would she still doubt my every move? Every time either of us had to travel for work, would she always question my integrity?
Would we ever be solid?
Fuck.
At two o’clock, the guys clattered back to the hotel and entered their rooms. I stuffed in my AirPods, found a calming soundtrack on Spotify, and lay down on my bed to rest. Sleep. But after thirty minutes, I was still wired and awake. Fuck this. I popped a sleeping pill and drifted off into oblivion.
I struggled through the next two shows in Munich. My energy was shot. Fatigue crushed me from the inside out. I was a pool of sweat before we stepped onto the stage. My hands shook every night when I crawled into bed. I’d texted Maddy a lot. But she was often too busy to chat.
I couldn’t sleep.
I shuddered, shivered.
What was wrong with me?
I knew . . . but refused to admit it.
We hit Czech. Phil had loved Prague. But we’d never been able to play here together. As the guys and I got ready in our dressing room, the hollers and chants, cheers and clapping from the sold-out auditorium reverberated down the backstage corridors, into our area, and pummeled my chest. Oh yeah. That was wild. It’d be a wicked show.
But my body ached. My hip throbbed. My energy level was zero.
Fuck .
I wouldn’t let down the fans.
While Flint and Lewis got dressed for the show, and Cole talked to Ava and April, I drew Blake aside. “Hey.” Nausea rocked and jolted through my guts as I handed him his empty key chain. “You got any more of this?”
“Sure.” He dug into his jacket and pulled out another identical key ring. “You’re using a bit. You okay? ”
“Yep. Just need a little help to get through some of the rough nights.”
Understanding and concern drifted across his eyes as he nodded. “Okay. But I’m keeping an eye on you.”
“Thanks, man.”
Blake was the best manager; he’d always taken care of us. He loved this life, the shows, this business as much as we did. He’d never pushed us too hard, kept us focused, and done whatever was necessary to ensure we took to the stage every night. I had no doubt he’d watch out for me. But I wasn’t a cause for concern. Am I? No...No, I’m not. No fucking way .
Blake patted my shoulder. “It’s gonna be a huge show. Give that crowd a good time.”
“Always.”
I slipped into the bathroom and snorted some blow.
After downing a shot of vodka to wash the taste out of my throat, I joined Cole on the sofa in our dressing room. My leg jiggled as I closed my eyes, fidgeting with my wedding band. My heartbeat raced as I waited for the buzz to kick in.
Then it hit.
Like a stage light turning from dim to full beam, adrenaline kicked through my veins. Holy shit! This stuff is good.
Cole lurched off the seat, grabbed me by the front of my leather vest, and hauled me to my feet. “Outside. Now.” He shoved me toward the door and into the hallway. Beckett and Wyatt stepped farther down the corridor to give us some space.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Cole hissed at me.
“What?” My pulse hammered at top speed, but I played it cool and innocent.
“You’re high as a fucking kite. I’ve done more lines of coke in my life than I care to remember. I know what you’re doing. This stops now.” He jabbed a finger toward my face. “You hear me? ”
Pain speared my chest. Shit. I hadn’t wanted the guys to know. “There’s nothing to worry about. I just need to get through this show.”
“Bull-fucking-shit.” His green eyes blazed with fire as his nostrils flared. “I’ve been watching you. Beckett and Ava are onto you too. But this has gone too far.” His tone plummeted like a boulder off a cliff. “Don’t do this, man. Don’t end up like Phil.”
“Fuck you,” I sneered, jutting my chin at him. “I’ve got this under control. I’m good.” No...I’m not. I fucking hurt. Everywhere. All the time.
“How often are you putting shit up your nose?” His voice cracked, as did my soul.
“Not often.” Shit. I winced and swayed on my feet. How often was too often? “Once, maybe twice a week, since London.” That was the truth. But coke wasn’t my problem.
“If Flint finds out it will destroy him.” Just like it had crushed Cole from the inside out. His eyes couldn’t hide anything. Fuuuuck! “Just stop,” he pleaded. “I don’t often ask for anything, but this—I’m begging you to not do this. Think of everyone who loves you. Especially Maddy. She won’t want you if you’re a fucked up mess.”
My shoulders sagged. “It’s debatable that she does anyway.”
“Well, you’ll sure as fuck lose her if you keep taking coke and God only knows what else you’re on.”
I slumped against the wall and closed my eyes. “I’m not on anything else.”
“Don’t lie to me, Slip.” He saw right through me. His hurt hung in every word. “You’re on meds for your hip. Sleeping pills. Tia said you took E the other night.”
“Fine. Meds not included.” I tilted my head back, thudding it against the wall. I needed grounding. Focus. “It’s been a rough week. Please, don’t worry about me. ”
He took a small step toward me, getting right up in my face. “I am, and I will.”
I didn’t need this. Not now. Not before a show. “Thanks, man, but I’m good.” I slapped his arm and headed back into our dressing room.
But with each stride, my soul splintered. Tears prickled my eyes. Fuck. Pull yourself together, dick. No more. I loved these guys too much. I needed to be with Maddy . Ergh ! This sucked. But I had to push through. Keep going.
“Everything okay?” Worry etched deep grooves into Flint’s brow as he clipped on his transmitter.
“Yep. Let’s get this party started.” I clapped my hands and avoided every concerned look on the faces of my band and entourage.
As I put on my ear monitors, the cocaine and pain-killers weaved and meandered, numbed, skipped, and fired through my system. Oh, fuck yeah. My pulse jumped ten notches as we headed to the stage. Flint gave everyone his usual pep talk and wished us a good show. Then the four of us guys huddled together.
I couldn’t stand fucking still.
I was already a ball of sweat. Strands of long hair clung to my neck. My vest stuck to my lower back. Droplets trickled down my spine. Fuck.
Flint lowered his head. We all followed suit. “This one is for Phil. He always wanted to play here. We’re here because we love music, love each other, and are family. We stand by each other. Whatever shit you’re going through, we’ll get through it together.”
I glanced up.
Flint glared straight at me. Shit. “And tonight, we’re gonna give this crowd one hell of a show. Let’s rock.”
We broke our group hug and clapped, and I hollered, “Fuck yeah.”
Showtime.
We moved into position on the darkened stage. The crowd chanted and screamed on the other side of the thick black curtain. The music from our video sequence leading into our show boomed through the speakers and into my ear monitors. The hair on my arms stood on end from the electric vibe buzzing in the air.
With my guitar on and fingers ready, I sucked air into the depths of my lungs and closed my eyes. I could feel Phil all around me, jumping and hyping me up, ready to perform.
I’m here with you, bro, Let’s play.
Our show was epic.
I hadn’t played that hard or had so much fun on stage in months.
But like after every high, the crash hit me hard.
Back in my hotel room, I sat in my shower with freezing cold water pelting me for more than an hour.
Somehow I pushed through our second show in Prague with only pain-killers holding me together.
We hit Berlin, performed in front of huge crowds, followed by a sellout show in Amsterdam.
I swallowed oxy and Drizodone but didn’t touch coke. I was dancing on a tightrope with no safety harness on and no net beneath me.
An hour before we hit our last show in Paris, Maddy called.
Fuck . I missed her. But this wasn’t her usual time to talk.
My fingers trembled as I swiped my phone to answer it and rushed to the far end of the dressing room so I could talk in private.
“Hey?” I spoke low and soft. “How are you? Everything okay?”
“Yes and no.” She paused. The silence snagged my breath. “ I’ve just had a meeting with the producers of my show. They want to reshoot several scenes to finish post-production of last season. They weren’t happy with the final storyline and want to rework some new elements and direction into the last couple of episodes. The bad news is that filming is scheduled over our next catchup. It means I have to stay here and will only make it to LA for Sutton’s birthday. For one night—maybe two.”
My heart lurched against my ribs. My head scrambled for a solution. “Fuck. Okay. I’ll change my flights and come to Vancouver.”
“Slip.” Exhaustion rattled her voice. She’d been working long days, traveling across the country, promoting her show, and seeing her mom. She rarely took a break. “During the reshoots, I’ll be onset all day and half the night. We won’t get much time together.”
“Mads, I’d fly across the world just to spend an hour with you.”
“I know. But we have to be sensible and realistic. Reshoots aren’t normal. We have to cram so much into a few days. They’re exhausting. We have to film in the studio, across the city, and overnight upstate. You don’t need extra travel during your break. You need to rest to avoid jet lag. We won’t get much time together. But one night is better than nothing, right?”
My whole body shook. Sweat trickled down the back of my shirt. “Yes, but I’m so exhausted anyway, another flight or two won’t make any difference.”
“Babe, we’ll be fine. I’ll see you at Sutton’s. There are only two months of the tour left. That’s not long. We’ll get there. I gotta get back on set. Love you. Bye.”
Fuck! I ended the call, stuffed my cell phone into my pocket, and leaned against the wall. I pummeled my fist on my forehead. No. No. No .
I had to see Maddy for more than one night. I had to make that happen.
But I knew my body. Long-haul flights, my hip, and the remaining performances would take every ounce of strength I had left. I hated that Maddy was right.
I took out all my frustrations on stage that night. I played hard. Messed up during a couple of songs. I kept performing without question.
I drowned my aggravations and frustrations in vodka afterwards. Felt better after a hit of coke.
Three nights later in Barcelona, Flint pulled me aside before we took to the stage.
“Hey?” He flicked the back of his hand against my chest. “Get your shit together. Your timing has been off the last two shows. You’ve been coming in late on a few songs. You’ve fucked up the riff in ‘Wild Nights’ twice.”
I jittered on the spot. “Sorry. I’m not perfect.”
I went to step past him, but he caught my arm and turned me to face him.
“I didn’t ask you to be. We all make mistakes. But that’s not what this is about. This isn’t you.” Fire flickered through his ice-blue eyes . “You could play this set list in your sleep and not miss a note. You’re not focused and are jumping around too much. You have to watch your hip.”
“Nah.” I grinned and chuckled. “Go hard or go home.”
“Fucking hell, Slip?” His icy tone sent a chill down my spine. “I’m not na?ve. Nor is anyone else. You think we haven’t noticed your dilated pupils, your shakes, highs and lows, and mood swings? They’re a dead giveaway.” He shook his head as he scanned me from head to toe, then pinned me with his gaze. “You look like utter shit.”
“Geez. Thanks.” Fucker.
“I hate seeing you like this. I’m all for everyone taking their time to process and deal with their shit. But yours is running out. I’m not going to stand by and wait until it’s too late to intervene like we did with Phil. Whatever you’re on, stop. Get help. Talk to us...or someone.” He jabbed his finger toward the exit. “I will cancel the rest of this fucking tour and haul your ass to rehab if it means saving your life.”
The back of my eyes stung. I am okay. I don’t need help. I didn’t want anyone to worry. “I’m alright.” Nausea flooded my gut. Liar. “I just need to get through the next two months, and everything will be fine.”
“Everyone is worried.” His anguish slammed into me. “I’m terrified. I can’t lose you. Please, be honest with me. Are you gonna make it?”
I clenched my fists and sucked in a deep breath. Am I?
“Yep. With fucking bells on.”