Chapter 1 Freedom
“Thank you, St. Louis,” I spoke into my wireless mic and defiantly threw my Cowboy hat into the audience against my manager’s advice, walking away without a backward glance at the chaos I’d just caused.
The crowd roared and applauded, continuing their standing ovation as my band played on while my fans fought for control over my discarded hat.
Wendell, my manager, rushed me and blocked my path.
“Are you trying to cause lawsuits? We swore we wouldn’t toss anything in the audience anymore unless it were confetti from the ceiling.
Too many people get hurt when you throw anything.
If you want to be a part of Zo Taylor’s World Tour, then you can’t keep ignoring the rules. ”
Wordless, I moved around him and stuck my preferred cinnamon-flavored toothpick in my mouth, then pulled my guitar strap over my head to give my guitar to one of the stage assistants, who handed me a towel.
I wanted to laugh that Alonzo had done more than his share of damage in his long career as a hip-hop artist, and he needed my fans to help sell out the big ass outside arenas in those other countries.
We were a good combination, with his old-school and new-school rap and my genre-mixing of country soul and rap.
We would be a force on tour as long as I kept it business.
Alonzo Taylor couldn’t be trusted as a friend.
“You keep it up, and I swear I’ll quit. You’re not worth the liability,” He yelled from behind me as I continued walking, wiping my sweaty face and bare chest. I didn’t listen to his bluff.
I was his highest-paid talent, and he made too much money off my tours to walk away from me.
Money allowed bad behavior. Poverty punished it.
I’d been on both spectrums, and whether or not I did the right thing didn’t bring me closer to the peace I longed for.
The small crowd standing around the backstage area wore broad smiles, snapped photos, and clamored for my attention before I headed to my bus.
I waved out of habit at no one in particular, the many faces and shouting demands all blended into one as my temples began to pound viciously.
I needed relief and started squinting. The migraines worsened the longer I attempted to appease these people who were only attracted to my fame and not me.
After a few more minutes of barely answering questions and taking photos, I strode toward the exit.
Ignoring various members of my team beckoning me to stay for more of the insanity, I headed straight to my tour bus.
The cold air hit my naked, perspiring chest like bricks as I trudged up the stairs inside the open door of the bus.
“Over already?” Sammie, my long-time driver, asked.
“Not for them. They’re still inside, hoping I’ll come back in.” I gestured to the auditorium behind me. “No one else is getting on this bus until Oklahoma City. I need quiet.”
He smirked. “Not even any of the ‘Freedom Lovers’? St. Louis has some fine ass women.”
Sammie referred to my fan base, which was primarily women who would seize any opportunity to get close to me, especially when I toured.
Lately, I wasn’t feeling the random hook-ups or the wild sex.
I wanted more. Her doe eyes flashed before me, and I cursed silently.
“Not even them. And every city has fine ass women.”
Sammie laughed louder. “Not every city.”
Squeezing his shoulder, I commented, “Agree to disagree.”
Sammie glanced at the back of the bus and then back at me. “Everything is set up for you in your room.”
“Thanks, Man.” Rubbing my temples, I strode past the small dinette area with the glass table and shiny new stove and sink.
The lounge area with the plush leather sofa and TV usually beckoned me after a concert to wind down.
Nothing like a beer and catching up on the latest sports or stream surfing until something caught my attention.
I’d discovered that I preferred my tour bus to most hotels.
It was like my home away from home. Tonight, I craved the feel of nothingness and sleep.
When I entered my bedroom, I picked up the bottles of OxyContin and Tequila that Sammie had left. The liquor chased the pills down my throat. My jeans soon followed my boots, and then I collapsed on top of my oversized King bed into a blissful unawareness.
The cell blasting Beyoncé’s Just For Fun woke me up with a start. Groggily, I grabbed it and greeted, “What?”
“When are you supposed to be in Dallas?” Peace, my younger brother asked.
“We’ve been through this…in two weeks. Did I not send you tickets to my concert?” I tucked the phone against my ear and turned on my side. Migraine replaced by the grogginess of a hangover.
“I mean exactly when. The day before or the day of your concert?”
“Technically, the tour bus arrives the day of, but I can arrange to fly in before. Why?”
“Oak Valley High wants to give you special recognition at your fifteenth class reunion, the night before your concert. I do some contract work there, and the current principal reached out to me because she didn’t know how to contact you.”
“The school that didn’t give me my diploma now wants me to honor them with my presence?” I checked my watch. In an hour, we would be approaching Oklahoma.
Sound check in five hours.
Concert in nine hours.
I could sleep a little longer after I ended the call.
“Bro, you know you weren’t exactly innocent back then, and you eventually received it a year later.” He chuckled. “Besides, your classmates would love to see you. They didn’t make the decision for you not to get your diploma.”
Reminders about my past always drove me to drink or drugs to forget. To be back in that place would certainly fuck with my mental space. “I don’t really care about seeing people from the past. The only person that matters in Dallas is you.”
Liar.
I closed my eyes tighter to my own conscience. “Respectfully decline on my behalf.”
“Free. Come on, bro. It’s more about being a role model for those coming behind you. Oak Valley has become one of the top public schools in Dallas, and some of that is because people want to attend the same school as Freedom Cade.”
“I’m not a role model. Shit. Between drinking and drugging to maintain, I can’t stand up there and pretend that anyone should look up to me.”
He sighed. “I thought you stopped all that. Didn’t you go to rehab?”
My temples started to throb again at the reminder that I never went after my publicity team announced a statement that I had entered a facility after I got into a fight at an afterparty with a crazed fan.
HIPAA saved me. I could pretend all I wanted that I had undergone substance abuse treatment without anyone being able to reveal that it was all a lie.
How could anyone prove whether or not I lied without violating my right to privacy?
At my silence, my brother yelled, “You promised me.”
His wail exacerbated the pounding. “Damn, bruh, you’re too loud.”
“You’re hungover right now, aren’t you? Are you trying to be like our father?” He huffed.
“Don’t you ever in your life compare me to him. I may be a drunk, but I ain’t an abusive one. The only person I ever hurt is myself.” I hotly defended.
“You sure about that? You’ve been in two public fights in the last year, and you don’t think you hurt me or Granny when you refuse to come home because you stay fucked up?”
“It’s not because I don’t love you. You and Granny are my heart. It’s so damn hard.” My mother’s mother lived four hours away in Houston and, for a long time, didn’t know that my father had been a monster to my brother and me after we came to live with him following my mother’s death.
“We know that, Free. We also know you hide when you’re hurt or want to escape. If you still prefer any drug over us, then stay gone. We’re better off remembering the fun, loving, talented Freedom.”
I partially pushed up using my satin headboard. “Wait, Peace, don’t be like that. I’m going to visit Granny in Houston after I leave Dallas. I need y’all.”
“Then act like it. Give that shit up.” He paused. “To think I was about to hook you up with Jamaica, who’s over the reunion, and you haven’t changed one little bit.”
At the mention of the woman with the prettiest doe eyes who haunted my dreams, I popped up in bed, ignoring the intensity of pain that traveled through my head and neck. “What about her? You’ve been in contact? She asked about me?”
“Nope. Not telling you. You don’t deserve me even mentioning her name.”
“Then why did you? Why bring up some woman I haven’t spoken to in years if you didn’t have a point?”
“It doesn’t matter now. I’ll see you when you get in town.”
“Hey, Peace…listen, please tell me why you brought her up after all this time?” I rubbed my left temple while I cradled the phone, awaiting his answer. “You must have heard that I agreed to let Kody build our family compound in Dallas.”
He gasped, “I didn’t. Kody? How did that happen? Thought you hated each other?”
“All in the past.” A twinge of the old anger irritated my temple.
“Kody found a way to get through to me. He told me his business was struggling, and he reached out for old time’s sake.
Asked if I wanted to build a studio or a business in Dallas or if he could build whatever I wanted in Nashville.
Figured that I could kill two birds with one stone.
Give back to my old friend and build the compound I’ve been promising you and Granny so our family will always have a home. ”
“Did he tell you anything else? Like anything personally?”
“No. We haven’t spoken in years, and it was awkward as fuck. Strictly helping him out because he’d once been a friend, and from what he sent me, he’s done some nice work.”
“Before I tell you what I need to tell you, on Mama’s grave, no more drugs or alcohol?”