Nico (Zero Energy #1)

Chapter One

One

Nico

F lashes of brilliant light blazed from behind my closed eyelids. A cannon boomed repetitive and low in the distance, like the fiercest of my bass drumbeats, making my head throb like a bitch. My brain was foggy, my buzz long gone. Then the screaming started.

Startled, I rolled over and realized I was stone-cold naked. On the floor.

I peeled my heavy eyes open, and awareness slow-rolled its way into my consciousness as I took in the two women draped over me... also naked. Multiple bottles of booze lined the table next to us, as well as the remnants of pills, joints, and a line of coke.

To my right, more cannons and lights flared beyond the huge picture window, and it hit me where I was. My posh New York hotel. I glanced at the digital clock. Midnight. Happy fucking New Year.

One of the nameless groupies strewn across my lap groaned and smiled drunkenly up at me as she realized I was awake. She scraped her nails across my abs and down toward my cock, which was struggling to do much of anything through all the booze. Embarrassing.

I pushed her away with a grunt and rolled to stand, regretting it almost immediately as I nearly lost my balance. I grabbed the wall and took a breath, trying to recall my night of debauchery, but it was all a blur. A lot of my nights were lately. But last night I’d really cut loose, and shame rode me hard. Not because of my partying, but because I’d seen the look of worry on my friends’ faces. Not necessary, but still...

One of my best friends and bandmates, Cohen, popped the question with a splashy proposal to his girlfriend, Georgia, at dinner. Everyone was there, including both their families and the band. It was over the top and romantic, and I couldn’t have felt dirtier and more out of place if I’d rolled in pig shit. Their happiness felt like a disease to me. Something I’d never understand, much less experience for myself. Don’t get me wrong, I wanted nothing more than to love someone like that, but I knew myself and the DNA I carried. It wasn’t in the cards for me. So, instead, I made do with my music and an endless supply of willing groupies... and there were plenty, since our band, Zero Energy, had finally gotten our big break with the record deal, tours, and exposure that came along with it.

“Nico,” groupie number one purred. “It’s early. Let’s party some more.”

I shot her a look over my shoulder. Her makeup was smudged around her bloodshot eyes as she continued to smile blearily at me.

Groupie number two roused enough to prop herself up on an elbow and reach for a joint. “We can invite some more friends if you want,” she offered.

I glanced back toward the window as the fireworks show continued toward its finale, a snapshot of a memory sneaking in of watching a similar show when I was a kid in another much less fancy part of New York, sitting with my brother, Angelo, on the trunk of our dad’s old car. I was about six maybe. The air smelled of gunpowder from the show and popcorn and I was sleepy from a day of swimming. It had been a rare happy day.

I blinked and shut down the thought. “Yeah,” I said, scratching my belly. “Call your friends. I’ll order some food.”

They both perked up and scrambled for their phones as I shuffled to the bathroom. I refused to look myself in the mirror. I just took care of business, took a big breath, then retreated back to the safety of distraction and Jack Daniels until dawn.

“What the ever-loving fuck?” an angry voice raged from the end of a long tunnel. “Sebastian,” the voice grumbled, “get them dressed and get them the hell out of here. And make sure they sign those NDAs for crying out loud.”

Our band manager, Lance, I realized with an internal grimace, but every limb in my body was too heavy to move and my face felt plastered to the bed.

He shook my shoulder none too gently. “Nico? You alright?”

Behind him, a door closed, and footsteps shuffled over. “He good?”

“Well, he’s breathing, but he smells like dog shit.”

“Could be that pile of vomit he’s lying in.”

Dude, I was right there. With a moan, I tried to roll over but only managed to snuggle further into my own puke.

“Jesus,” Sebastian cursed, his disgust with me clear as he hauled me up under my armpits and flopped me into a chair. “You’re a fucking mess, Santorini.”

With a gargantuan effort, I peeled my eyes open. I took in the room first—absolutely trashed. Floor to ceiling, nothing had been spared. The lamps were upturned, feathers from the pillows were strewn all over the place, along with what looked to be body paint and... was that whipped cream? The air smelled heavily of sex and booze, and drug paraphernalia was in plain sight on the coffee table.

Slowly, I let my gaze roll past my bass player and friend to our manager.

Lance’s glare was beyond pissed off.

“I’ll pay for the damage—”

He lifted one finger to silence me. “We are way beyond that, Nico. One of the hotel staff alerted the media about your New Year’s shenanigans, so there are several news crews outside just waiting for their next story about the unpredictable drummer of Zero Energy.”

“Yeah, well...” I raked a hand over my head, carefully avoiding anything wet as anger and humiliation welled up inside me. Who was he to tell me how to live my life? I was a grown fucking man, and I made him a lot of fucking money. “It’s rock ‘n’ roll, right?” I tried to push up to stand but fell back on my ass as a wave of nausea overtook me and my vision turned dark. “They’ll move on soon enough.”

“Nico—”

“Lance,” Sebastian cut in. “I think he needs a hospital.”

“No!” I tried to yell, but it came out as a hoarse whimper. “No hospital.”

“Bro,” Sebastian said as he knelt down next to me. “You’re pale and...”

I shook my head and forced myself to look him in the eye, even though I saw two of him and my head was spinning violently enough to make me want to hurl again. “No. Hospital. Please.” I gripped his forearm. “I just need to sleep.”

He studied me a long moment, then nodded once. “Alright.” He faced Lance. “I’ll stay here and babysit him. Make sure he sleeps it off.”

“You’re sure?” Lance asked, clearly uneasy.

“Yeah.”

Lance looked me over and I sank back as I felt him giving in. “Okay, fine. But we’re gonna talk about this when you’re sober.”

I nodded and he stepped away. Same song, second verse. We’d talked about all this shit before. “I’ll send someone up to help get this place cleaned up.”

As soon as he was gone, Sebastian hefted me to my feet and dragged me to the bathroom.

“Thanks, man. I really—” I yelped when he shoved my ass in a cold shower, still in my jeans and socks.

“Don’t thank me, asshole. You are way out of control and we both know it.”

I stared at him through my wet hair, knowing he might be right, but too fucked up to care.