Chapter 49
TRAVIS
There’s already a line of people in front of the venue, waiting for the doors to open. I’m tempted to go over there and make myself known so they don’t forget about me when they’re loving Penn later, but I can’t talk, so what’s the point?
I make my way inside and watch with the rest of the guys from the greenroom as TripleKill performs. When it’s over, they all glance at me, and I give them a thumbs up. Liam pats my shoulder and follows Tanner out the door. Penn continues to stare at me, so I flick my wrist, telling him to go.
“This doesn’t change anything.” He claps a hand on my shoulder and squeezes.
My throat burns. Not because of my jacked up vocal cords, either. I hear his underlying meaning. He’s not trying to take my spot, and there’s no Loose Threads without me, like he said before. But there is—tonight anyway.
“You ok?” Ellie asks after everyone’s gone.
My gaze stays firmly pinned on the door my bandmates just walked out of, wishing I was going with them.
I hop up and exit the room, parking my ass in a chair next to the stage. I have a clear view of the guys, and if I turn slightly, I can get a glimpse of the crowd. Mainly the ones in front,but that’s good enough for me.
Halfway through the set, I’ve seen enough.
They’re killing it. The audience is loud, singing the lyrics alongside Penn.
People are crowd surfing. Heads are banging, and I can actually take the time to appreciate the fans.
When I’m on stage, it’s chaotic. Everything flies by so damn fast, I barely have a moment to drink it in, but from here, I can. It’s fucking amazing. We built this.
Loose Threads was created in Penn’s parents’ garage when we were sixteen.
I think Pacey was the one who gave us the idea for the name, always saying something about Penn’s torn-up jeans.
The knees were blown out, and they were shredded, full of loose threads, but he kept wearing them, as if he didn’t have any others.
She said when we made it, his first purchase should be new pants.
It was a pipe dream then. Two kids with big ideas and not a clue of how to make them happen, yet somehow, we did. We’re not millionaires and probably never will be, but this right here is exactly what we pictured when we were dreaming.
Anxiety claws at my skin, making my chest tighten and sweat dot my brow.
They’re doing it. They don’t need me. As much as Penn might hate it, my dude can sing. No practice and barely any time to prepare, and you can’t even tell he doesn’t do this every day.
Across the stage, I see Ellie on the other side. She’s holding her phone up, probably recording for Olivia. I heard her crying on the phone with Penn earlier because she was going to miss his first show. I think she even tried to catch a red eye last night, but couldn’t find anything available.
Standing up, I take one last look at my best friends and bandmates, then walk away.
I really want to drink a fifth of vodka until I pass out, but that sure as shit won’t do my throat any favors.
I only took one Adderall today. It was early this morning.
I’m trying to rest, but I don’t feel tired. Not like I could sleep anyhow.
I could use a good fuck right about now, but I doubt Ellie’s up for it.
It would be so easy to score pity sex from literally any other girl in this building tonight, but my dick is craving her.
I want to bury myself so deep inside her, I black out.
Kind of like I did the other night when I passed out in her bed.
I sleep like a baby next to her every time.
I shuffle down the hall with every intention of going to the bus for a bit, then I notice one of the twins from TripleKill—Axel or Atticus, no clue which. He’s standing with some guys wearing STAFF shirts. They’re huddled close, being all shady, so I stick my head in their circle. They jump apart.
Something flops to the ground. One of the guys is quick to scoop it up and put it in his pocket. Not before I saw what it was.
My brow arches, and he clears his throat, eyes darting to the twin. Mine follow.
“Hey, man,” he says.
Damn, I wish I knew which one he was. I tip my chin.
“Shit, that’s right, you can’t talk. Fucking bummer.”
I nod, then tilt my head to the guy who’s got cocaine in his pocket. The twin shifts on his feet, glancing behind me. I don’t know shit about him, but it’s clear he doesn’t want his bandmates to know what he’s doing. Same, man.
I take my phone out and type in my notes app since I don’t have his number.
Wanna share?
His shoulders relax. Did he think I was going to narc on him? Do I fucking look like a tattletale?
He turns to the other dude, holding out his hand, and the guy pulls out the baggie and drops it in his palm.
“Come on,” he says, nodding to one of the doors next to us.
This is a shit idea. I already have Addie in my system, not to mention, coke is super addictive. I’ve only done it once before. I knew it would be too damn easy to get hooked on, and I can’t afford that habit.
We slip into the room, and he starts to draw a line on the table.
I tap his shoulder and shake my head. Fuck that.
Last time I did that, my nose bled for ten minutes.
I don’t like shit going up my nose. I dab my finger in the powder then rub it on my gums. He waits for me to finish, then he proceeds to snort a line. I cringe but he doesn’t notice.
I slap his back in thanks and head out the door, already feeling better. If he expects me to pay him, he doesn’t say.
I practically skip to the bus but my feet halt, remembering we have a room tonight, and it’s right next door to the venue. Hell yeah.
We’re not leaving the city until midday tomorrow because we’re headed to Pittsburgh next, and it’s not far.
I slip my keycard from my back pocket and head to mine and Penn’s room. Once I get inside, my smile falls. What the hell do I do now? I start to pace, tearing at my hair. I feel like I could climb the walls.
My heart rate ticks up, which I expected, but damn, it’s pumping really fast. I flatten a hand on my chest, trying to steady it, but it only rages harder.
I suck in a breath. Damn, am I having a heart attack?
No, it’s just the drugs. The euphoria I was feeling moments ago slips away, replaced by the drumming of my heart against my ribs.
It’s as if it wants to tear out of my body.
My chest aches and I sway, feeling unsteady.
I drop down on the bed, breathing in and out through my nose.
I thought this was going to be good. Get high and stop being bummed about my band playing without me. Not make me feel like I’m fucking dying. Am I having an adverse reaction? This isn’t how it felt last time.
Fuck. Shit.
My skin hums with awareness as my eyes shift around the room.
Are there cameras in here? I get up and check the corners, squinting at all the surfaces for signs of a red dot.
Paranoia takes over, and I scope every inch of the room, moving the small coffee pot and TV around to make sure nothing’s hiding behind them. I unplug the TV just in case.
My chest tightens, squeezing my ribs, panic setting in. I take out my phone, and text the only person I can count on that’s not on stage right now.