The Silver Lake Hotel (Sweet Tea and a Southern Gentleman #8)

Prologue

LIAM

The wail from Guido’s guitar rang out above the roar of the crowd as I pulled the microphone from my lips and sang out the last word to our song, “She’s Just a Dream.

” My cheeks were warm and my heart pounded as the music died down.

I dropped my arm to my side and turned to face the hungry fans in front of me.

Their chants were deafening as they demanded an encore.

I lifted my hands and shook my head before mouthing a thank you and goodnight.

A collective boo rippled through the crowd.

I shrugged and turned to walk off the stage, pausing to glance over at Guido, Sawyer, Tom, and Jet.

Then I glanced back at the crowd with a contemplative expression.

The sound of 50,000 people holding their breath echoed in my ears as I glanced from the guys on my right to backstage on my left.

Then, slowly, I brought my microphone up to my lips. “I guess we might have time for one more.”

The crowd erupted into a roar twice as loud as before.

“What do you think, guys? Do we have time for one more?” I asked my bandmates.

“I got the time,” Jet said as he sat down in front of his drums.

Guido strummed a few cords. “I’ve got the time.”

Tom dragged his finger across the keyboard and pounded out the first few cords for our new song, “Dancing on Daisies.”

That was all the crowd needed. They were on their feet, cheering and singing the first few lines before Sawyer had even picked up his bass guitar.

Jet counted us in on his drumsticks, and after a few measures, I began to sing. My body moved with the music, and I took my time playing with the crowd. I walked to the left of the stage, holding out my microphone so they could sing the beginning lines to the chorus:

Dancing on daisies, in the ruins we made

Shadows behind us, but we’re not afraid

Then I made my way to the right side and did the same. The crowd finished the chorus, louder and more earnest than before.

Every step forward, a war we have braved

Dancing on daisies, unchained

We sang three more songs before the guys left their instruments and joined me center stage. We bowed in unison a few times before Jet threw his drumsticks into the crowd, and a woman caught them, triumphantly holding them in the air.

We blew kisses to the crowd as we walked backwards until we had a clear shot off stage. Once we were hidden, I blew out my breath, my cheeks hurting from smiling and singing.

“That was a great set,” Bonnie, our manager, said as she handed me an open bottle of sparkling water and a white hand towel.

Everyone else had assistants who were busy handing them their post-performance necessities.

Since I fired my last assistant, Bonnie had reluctantly stepped in to take care of me.

I took both from her, wiping my forehead with the towel before taking a long pull from the bottle. “Thanks,” I breathed, flashing her a wide smile.

We followed Bonnie to the green room, sidestepping dollies and cords as we went.

Once inside, I collapsed on the worn leather couch, slinging my arm over the back and extending my legs out in front of me as far as they would go.

I took in a few deep breaths as I tipped my head back and closed my eyes.

I was exhausted. Concerts. The band. The crowd.

It used to energize me in a way that I couldn’t describe.

Magic used to pulse through my veins when I was up on stage.

A feeling that I would never be able to fully describe, even if I wanted to.

But now, performing was my prison and the band was my executioner.

I was trapped. The freedom I once had was gone.

I only half listened to Bonnie as she went over the stats for the night. Crowd responses. Tech hiccups. Timing issues. It was the same every concert. The fans loved us. The crew tried their hardest…

“…and Liam?”

I opened my eyes and pulled my head up so I could look at her. “Hmm?”

Bonnie’s arms were crossed in front of her as she stared me down. “We’ve gone over the timing in “Say It Isn’t So” a million times.”

“A million times, dude,” Sawyer piped up next to me. He was sitting on a styling chair with his feet propped up on the vanity counter in front of him. He flipped an eyeliner pencil around his fingers over and over again.

Sawyer and I used to be inseparable. We’d been best friends since high school.

I used to think I was so incredibly blessed to be able to do what I loved with the person who felt like a brother to me.

After my mom passed away and I got involved with my ex, Sawyer didn’t approve of Katie, which strained our relationship.

Even though Katie and I were done, my relationship with Sawyer never fully recovered.

I decided not to dignify his comment with a response. Instead, I just leaned my head back once more and closed my eyes. “The crowd didn’t care,” I murmured.

I didn’t have to see the exchange between Bonnie and Sawyer to know that one took place. Their silent frustration spoke louder than their words ever could.

Back when we first started Fading Atlas, singing and doing concerts were fun.

But, lately, I was growing resentful of my bandmates.

Maybe it was age. Maybe it was exhaustion.

I was tired. I was tired of living this life.

Tired of having people tell me what to do and where to be. I never had time to just be…me.

Bonnie continued rattling off her notes, but I was no longer listening. All I could think about was how badly I wanted to get out of this room and how stifled I felt.

Like an answer to my prayer, there was a knock on the door, followed by a soft voice informing us that the VIP members were waiting for us in the meet-and-greet room. I took that as my signal to leave.

I hopped up off the couch and headed over to my vanity to grab my leather jacket and slip it on.

“You’re not coming with us?” Jet asked. He’d been following the others to the door but had stopped to stare at me.

I shook my head. “I’m going to sit this one out,” I said as I fed the zipper pin into the slider before yanking it up.

For the first time in two months, I was just minutes away from my daughter. I’d fulfilled my obligation to be on stage. Now the only thing I wanted to do was get the hell out of this place and spend time with the little girl who was growing up way too fast for my liking.

“Sit this one out?” Sawyer was standing in the middle of the doorway glaring at me. “Greeting fans is a requirement. It’s in your contract,” he said.

I shrugged as I grabbed my motorcycle helmet. “Fire me then.” When no one responded, I allowed myself to hope that I might finally be let out of this grueling life once and for all.

Then I heard Bonnie’s sigh.

“No need to talk like that,” she said, appearing behind Sawyer. “Lucky for us, your fans have grown accustomed to this aloof behavior. If anything, I think it endears you to them even more.”

Sawyer scoffed.

I shot him a wide smile. “You heard her, endears,” I said, emphasizing the word.

“Endears, my ass,” he mumbled as he folded his arms and continued to glare at me.

With my helmet tucked under my arm, I shrugged. “I’ve got places to be,” I said, nodding to the other band members as I passed by them. Just as I got to Sawyer, I paused and gave him another wide smile. “Tell the fans I say hi.”

Sawyer’s jaw muscles flinched, and from the corner of my eye, I saw his right hand ball into a fist. I waited a second longer to see if he was actually going to see that punch through, but he never landed the blow. Instead, he just glared at me before taking a step back.

I shifted my helmet to my left hand as I sidestepped Sawyer and headed down the hall in the opposite direction of the rest of the band. A security guard was standing next to the outside doors that I’d come in earlier. I nodded in his direction before I shoved my helmet on my head.

“Great performance.” My helmet muffled his voice.

“Thanks,” I said, flipping the visor up so I could see him.

“Need me to escort you out?”

“Naw.” I shook my head. “I’m pretty fast once I get going.”

He chuckled as he reached out and placed his hand on the door release. “Have a good night.”

“You, too.” I flicked my visor closed just as he pushed the door open.

Luckily, this exit was an isolated one. Bonnie had our RV parked around the corner, which was a distraction tactic for our fans. With my helmet on, I slipped past some groupies unnoticed. When I got to my motorcycle and revved the engine, I knew I was free.

I drove the fifteen minutes from the Kaseya Center to the Venetian Islands, where Katie’s house was. The house I bought for her when she got pregnant with Anastasia. The house I thought we were going to grow old in. The house where I was no longer wanted.

I wasn’t sure how she was going to react to me showing up unannounced, but I didn’t really care. I’d been on the road for two months now. I was ready to see my daughter.

I tried to be as quiet as I could as I rolled up the driveway and engaged the kickstand of my bike. With it stabilized, I swung my leg over before I straightened and pulled off my helmet. I set it on my seat and then made my way to the front door.

My hand was raised to knock when the door swung open and Katie’s sour expression greeted me. I tried my hardest to remain calm as she pushed forward, forcing me to step back so she could join me on the porch. She closed the door behind her.

“What are you doing here?” she asked as she folded her arms. Her platinum blonde hair was pulled up into a slicked-back ponytail.