Chapter Twenty-Nine #2
She licks her lips, then waggles her brows. “Well then, what are you waiting for?”
Chuckling, I lean in to kiss her, and she presses her lips to mine carefully. It’s like she’s scared she’ll hurt me, so I strengthen the kiss a little more and let her know it’s okay while Luke groans on the other side of the car.
But I don’t care about him right now. I need to make it up to my woman.
So I keep kissing her all the way to the doctor’s office.
When we arrive at the ENT clinic where the specialist practices, we pile out of the car.
Seeing as we’re in Tokyo, I turn to Luke and furrow my brows. “Luke, will the doctor speak English?”
Luke sighs. “Yes, Danger, I made sure.”
Approaching the clinic, we proceed inside. My heart races uncontrollably while we sit in the waiting area.
Almost thirty agonizing minutes later, a man in a white waistcoat emerges.
“Mr. Pipe,” he calls out, and I fucking shudder hearing my name.
The three of us walk into the specialist’s waiting room and find a seat facing the doctor.
He wastes no time getting down to it. “So, Dwayne, tell me your symptoms.”
“Please, call me Danger,” I correct him instantly. “As you can hear, my voice is breathy and hoarse. My throat felt strange for about a week, and I didn’t think much about it, but my voice only went completely off last night at a concert. That’s when things started to fail.”
“Okay, well, first, I need to look at your throat and vocal cords. Do you consent to me using a small tube-like instrument and a mirror to look inside your throat?”
“No problem. Do whatever you need to.”
He stands, gathering instruments and pulling on rubber gloves. A bright light shines in my face, and he goes about his procedure. The tube tickles my throat even though he used a numbing agent, and it makes me want to cough, but I let him do what he needs to without causing a fuss.
This is too important to be a baby about it.
“Mm-hmm,” the doctor murmurs, then pulls the tube out of my throat and switches off the light. He walks back behind his desk as I sit, my heart racing, and I am breathing so hard and fast that I feel lightheaded.
“So, Doc?” I ask impatiently while he scribbles something on his notepad.
He looks up and exhales with a frown. “I’m sorry, Danger, but you have a polyp on your right vocal cord.”
It’s like the room spins as a wave of nausea washes over me. My body flames red hot, and I sink further into my chair as the realization hits me.
Luke exhales more dramatically than he should, and Lunar looks around the room at the grim faces.
“So how long will recovery take after the surgery, doc?” Luke poses the question I should be asking, but I remain frozen, fearing that any movement might make the situation worse.
Lunar gasps. “Surgery? It’s that bad?” she asks.
I scrub my face with my hands, knowing I’ve blown this tour for Recoil, and our shot at fame is coming to a grinding halt because of me—yet again.
“It’s different with everyone, but usually with vocalists, the downtime is approximately six weeks from surgery without complications.
If, however, there is a complication during surgery or your speech therapy needs extra work, then it can take longer.
We generally advise six months for the full beneficial recovery period. ”
“Six months!” I try to yell, but it comes out as a hoarse rasp, which earns me a disapproving glare from Luke, knowing I will only strain my throat further.
“Okay, thanks, Doc. We need to make plans and talk to the rest of the band. Let’s make some decisions, Danger,” Luke suggests.
I stand defeated. My career is over.
Even with the surgery, my voice might not return to what it was before.
I know that.
Luke knows that.
This is a shit hand we have been dealt.
Fucking hell!
We thank the doctor, leave, and head to the car. Luke gets on the phone with Ryan immediately and requests the band group in the penthouse for an emergency meeting when we return.
Lunar holds my hand, but I still feel numb.
All the way back to the hotel, I’m inwardly berating myself for letting this happen.
I should have acted as soon as I felt something was off.
But I know deep inside, it wouldn’t have made any difference.
We arrive at the penthouse, and everyone’s in the main living area. They all look up when we walk in.
“What’s going on?” Ryan asks.
Luke exhales as we sit on the couches next to them. Lunar quietly continues to hold my hand, offering support I can’t feel at the moment.
“Danger has a polyp on his vocal cord. Tonight’s concert is canceled, and so is the remainder of the tour until Danger’s better.”
“Holy shit!” Ryan blurts out, snapping his head to mine, his eyebrows pinching together. There is sympathy in his eyes, and I hate every single bit of it.
“Fucking hell! Just when we start to make it big, Danger goes and fucks us over again. Well, I vote we get a replacement singer until he’s better and continue,” Nate suggests, immediately gaining everyone’s attention—especially mine.
“Nate, be real! People love Recoil for Danger’s voice. It’s unique, one of a kind. It can’t be replaced. He needs to rest his instrument, and once it’s fixed, we’ll pick it back up. How long will this take?” Ryan asks.
With a shrug, I look at Luke.
“Okay, here’s the plan. We go back to Australia. Danger has the surgery there and recovers while you three continue promo and interviews to keep the interest alive. The thing is, this could take anywhere from six weeks to six months. We just don’t know yet,” Luke offers.
“Six months?” Nate yells, standing up and running his fingers through his hair.
“Calm down, for fuck’s sake. That’s the worst-case scenario, yeah?” Matt asks.
“Yes. Worst case is six months. But you three can keep the buzz going while Danger recovers.”
“Great! Just fucking great! I should’ve known you would ruin this for us again. If not with Lunar, then some other way.” Nate storms out of the room, and I moan, sinking back into my chair, knowing he’s right.
Ryan’s gaze meets mine, and the guilt weighs heavily while I scrub at my tired face.
“Okay, we get back on a plane ASAP. Danger gets his surgery, and we go into damage control. We tell the fans about Danger’s operation, and that will generate sympathy.
We release the album we had planned to halfway through the tour.
We can bring that forward. We have a plan of action.
All we can do is ride it out and see how fast Danger heals.
But we need something in place for a six-month sideline,” Luke announces.
Ryan glances at me. “I’m sorry, bro. This is not your fault. Don’t go blaming yourself. We will bounce back, and the brothers and I will keep the hype up while you recover. This doesn’t have to be a big deal, Danger. So don’t make it one.”
I fake a smile as Lunar tightens her hand in mine.
“Right, so I’ll book flights back to Australia and schedule your surgery. Let’s get the ball rolling, and I’ll work on a press release.” Luke and Matt get up and walk away from the living area with reassuring nods.
I turn to Ryan and shake my head. “I’m so sorry.”
“Enough! What did I just say?” he scolds.
“I know, but we’re right there… right on the brink of something big. We all know the momentum will fade away.”
“No. It won’t. I won’t allow it,” Ryan asserts firmly, his eyes determined. “You know I rock the PR. Trust me. Recover. Let Lunar take care of you and let me run Recoil for a bit.”
“You’re the best, you know that?” I reply, a grateful smile pulls on my lips.
“That’s why I am your best friend, and the other guys play second fiddle,” he teases.
I don’t know how, I don’t know why, but for some reason, I think this is all going to turn out okay.