Chapter Two
Two
Nico
T he scent of coffee forced me to peel the sandpaper that was my eyelids back with a painful groan as sunlight pierced my retinas.
“Morning,” Sebastian intoned. “You look like shit.”
I flipped him off and rolled to sit, ignoring the revolting in my gut at the movement. “How long have I been out?”
He shoved a mug of steaming black brew in my hand. “Nearly twenty-four hours.”
I paused, cup halfway to my lips. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
I frowned and tried to piece together the last several hours of my life but came up blank.
“I managed to get you to the bathroom once, but you have to be starving.”
My gaze shot up and met my friend’s carefully neutral expression. But I knew him. We’d shared cramped quarters and dollar burritos before our band had a pot to piss in. He was more than mad... he was scared. For me. Hell, if I was honest, so was I. I’d never blacked out like this and lost time before. But I shoved that down and sipped the scalding coffee. “I could eat.”
He nodded and left the room, returning with a tray that he placed on the bed. Scrambled eggs, toast, fruit. “Eat. Shower.” He waited until I met his eyes. “Lance and the others will be here in an hour to talk.” He didn’t bother to wait for a response before he spun away, leaving me to it.
I scarfed down the food, ignoring the other pit in my stomach that was growing by the second. It had been for months now. I just needed a drink. Or a hit. Or to get laid. Probably all of the above. Once everyone left from this little get-together, I’d work on making that happen as quickly as fucking possible.
As soon as my plate was clean, I grabbed a shower and pulled on some clean clothes that had magically appeared on the dresser, then padded out to the living area of the suite where I found my bandmates and manager spread around with varying degrees of pensiveness and anxiety on their faces.
“Hey, guys,” I said, breaking the silence as I sprawled out on the couch and grinned at Corey and Cohen.
A somber-faced Lance turned from texting someone at the window and looked me up and down. “You don’t look any worse for wear.” He glanced at Sebastian, and they shared some sort of nonverbal communication before he turned back to me. “Thank God.”
“No,” I drawled slowly, suddenly sensing something was off. “We were celebrating Cohen and Georgia. I had a few too many. Don’t you think you’re all overreacting here?”
His brow rose nearly to his hairline. “Overreacting?”
“Yes.” I glanced around at my friends, but their stony faces were no help. Fucking traitors.
“Dude, you blacked out for a day,” Sebastian supplied. “Do you even know what you took? How much you drank?”
“Of course,” I said, my voice rising, even though I knew that was a lie... but fuck him. I was a grown man, and I could handle myself. Who were any of them to question me?
“You could’ve died.”
My mouth snapped shut and I spun at Corey’s softly spoken but pain-laced words. “What?”
“You heard me. You could’ve fucking died, and that is not okay. Nothing about how you’ve been lately is okay, and we just wanna help you.”
“Help me? How the hell are you gonna help me? I don’t need—”
I was interrupted by a loud knock at the door.
“Perfect timing,” Lance said, his face grim but determined.
“What’s perfect timing?” I demanded, watching him head toward the door, a sense of foreboding filling my chest as I imagined all the horrible things that could be behind there. The cops. Doctors there to take me to the loony bin. My father. “Who the hell is that?” I jumped up, the taste of panic acidic on my tongue.
“Someone to help,” he said as he swung the door open wide.
My vision tunneled black, and I took an automatic step back into Sebastian’s knees as I spotted the tall man in slacks and a navy polo shirt. Gray hair. Wide smile.
Not my father. Not the cops.
Relief had never tasted so sweet.
The stranger stepped inside and shook hands with Lance, and I tried to get some air into my lungs as my heart rattled around in my chest. Maybe I wasn’t gonna go down after all.
Lance turned to us all, but his gaze lasered in on me. “Nico. This is David Johnson. I’ve hired his company to take on publicity for the band.”
Publicity?
Publicity.
The word finally settled into my thick brain. I could do that.
“Damn, why didn’t you say so? Why all the theatrics—?”
“You don’t understand,” Lance cut me off. “We had to hire David’s firm specifically because of all the bad press you’ve brought to the band. The label is threatening to cut ties with us and sue for the millions they’ve poured into the upcoming album and press for the next tour.”
Red filled my vision. “What the hell?” I roared, instantly enraged at the thought of losing everything we’d worked so hard for. “Fuck that! They have no right to pull that shit!”
“Yes!” he yelled back. “They do and they will! Because of you! So to save your ass and to save this band, I got them to agree to allow David and his company to do damage control.”
“Damage control?” I glanced around, but clearly the guys already knew what was up, which made me the chump.
“Yes.”
“Which means what exactly?”
Lance opened his mouth, but this David dude put a hand out and stepped forward, silently indicating to let him take it. Lance shrugged and gave him the floor.
David cleared his throat and offered me a professional sharklike smile. “Mr. Santorini—”
“Nico,” I growled.
His smile grew and he nodded like he knew he’d already won even though we hadn’t even begun to play the game. “Nico. It’s actually very simple. You continue on as a member of Zero Energy. Record albums. Tour. Enjoy your money and your life, but with one new rule.”
I lifted a brow, silently demanding an explanation.
“You follow my rules.”
“This is bullshit!” I exploded, facing Lance. “You cannot be fucking serious with this!”
“Nico,” he said, not giving in to my temper. “Sit. Down.”
My brow and my attitude thundered. I wavered, on the edge of just walking, but something in me told me to stay and hear this BS out. At least a little longer. If nothing else, because my best friends were there.
As if reading my mind, Corey leaned over toward Lance. “Should the rest of us go so you three can talk privately?”
“No,” he said. “This concerns all of you as a group.”
Still simmering, I dropped back onto the couch and slammed my arms across my chest, silently daring them to do their worst with their damn rules.
David sat in the chair across from me and leaned back like he was about to propose a business deal. “Rehab.”
My eyes about fell out of my head. “What the fuck did you just say?”
He steepled his fingers under his chin and had the audacity to smile. “You heard me, Nico. I think it’s fair to say everyone in this room knows you need rehab...” He waited a beat while my shocked gaze skated around to all my friends, who were staring back like they agreed with him. “Well, everyone except you, apparently.”
“That’s because I don’t need rehab. I don’t need anything. But thanks for your concern.”
“Nico—” Cohen tried to cut in, the tone of his voice practically begging.
David shook his head and scooted forward in his chair. “Remember what I said about the one rule? This is not up for negotiation.”
I felt like a trapped animal, wild and wounded. Angry and afraid. Indignation mixed with a healthy dose of humiliation bubbled in my chest. My friends had betrayed me to some stranger. I feasted on the new wound this caused. Let it burn in my veins, a new fire to feed the one that constantly flowed.
“And if I refuse?” I bit out.
“Then you’re fired.” This from Sebastian, which felt like a flaming dagger to my heart.
Shocked beyond the pain and anger, I stared into the eyes of each of my bandmates in turn before I finally turned to our manager. “You can’t fire me if I quit first.”
Then I flipped David off and stormed out of the hotel suite, leaving them in my dust.