Memphis
“Thanks for kicking off our tour and giving us an awesome first show, Portland!” Phoenix yells into his mic. “But you know what they say, you don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.”
I stare out at the mob of screaming fans, taking one last mental image to store in my database so I’ll never forget.
My dream was to play guitar for a living, but what I do now exceeds even my wildest ones.
Even though I can no longer walk down the street without being spotted, and I was forced to move into a ritzy apartment building with doormen and security…
Looking out at the crowd of people who showed up just to hear me do the thing I love most makes all the bullshit that comes with fame worth it.
Unable to stop smiling, I slip the strap over my head and place my guitar down.
Sometimes I want to pinch myself to make sure this is real life.
My chest pulls tight with trepidation.
A life that won’t be taken from me.
“Good show, guys,” Phoenix says as we walk off stage.
“It would be better if Josh would learn how to keep time,” Storm grumbles.
Storm isn’t wrong. Back when we first started Josh used to put in effort, but nowadays he doesn’t give a shit.
He doesn’t play for the love of music.
He plays because he craves the attention.
“I keep time just fine, shithead,” Josh protests.
“The fuck you do,” I bite out. “Not only were you a half beat off for most of the show, you keep messing up the end of ‘Sharp Objects.’”
Which is our self-titled hit song and the one he should know like the back of his hand. Not just because it’s a fan favorite, but because it catapulted us to stardom.
“What are you talking about?” Josh argues. “I was awesome.”
Awesomely terrible.
“If you were awesome, you’d mute at the end like you’re supposed to.”
Which he fucking knows because I’m the one who taught him how to play.
“Maybe I was just trying to change things up a little and keep the fans on their toes.”
Storm snorts. “What a load of bullshit.”
The anger simmering inside me kicks up. “The fans are here to listen to good music and see us perform. Not watch a drugged-up party animal on a downward spiral fuck up their favorite songs.”
Pouting like a child, Josh turns to Phoenix for backup. “Tell these idiots they’re wrong.”
Scoping out the exit signs backstage, Phoenix pulls at his ear. “I think we all have room for improvement.”
Storm and I exchange an irritated glance. It’s no secret Josh and Phoenix are close but coddling him isn’t doing us any favors.
For fuck’s sake, Phoenix was the one who wrote “Sharp Objects.” He should be telling Josh to pull his head out of his ass and stop fucking his shit up.
I grind my teeth so hard it hurts. “I’d be pissed if my bassist kept butchering the song I put my blood, sweat, and tears into.”
The song that turned our pipe dreams into reality.
“Word,” Storm agrees. “You wrote a masterpiece, and you’re letting him take a giant dump all over it every night.”
Some emotion I can’t quite decode crosses over Phoenix’s face and his nostrils flare. “Whatever, assholes. Stop dragging me into your pissing contests.”
Then he stalks off like the toddler he is.
“Stop sucking Josh’s dick,” I call out.
Raising his middle finger in the air, he flips me off.
Josh places an arm around my shoulders. “If you were half as smart as you think you are, you’d be the one sucking my dick…bro.”
Skipping ahead of us, he makes a beeline for the greenroom.
Storm raises a brow. “What was that about?”
A trail of tension rides down my neck. “No clue.”
Josh is convinced he has the upper hand, but he knows just as well as I do that it’s a draw.
Sure, he can tell the world I’m a murderer, but doing so means he’ll lose everything, too.
Because unlike me, his talent isn’t what got him here.
Given I’m half a foot taller than my extortioner I catch up in time to see Skylar spring off the couch and into his arms.
“You guys were great.”
Beside me, Storm snorts.
Josh casts a dirty look in our direction. “See?” Holding my gaze, he grabs Skylar’s chin and smacks a kiss on her lips. “Thanks, baby. I’m so glad my girl has such great taste in music.”
She does. Which is why Nirvana is her favorite band.
However, her taste in men? That’s where the wires are crossed because it fucking sucks.
I fight the urge to rock his jaw when he goes back in for another kiss, this time shoving his tongue into her mouth and grabbing her ass.
Luckily, I don’t have to witness much more because Sky pushes him away. “You’re all sweaty, babe.”
Grinning like the Cheshire Cat, Josh heads for the table lined with bottles of liquor and pours himself a drink. “First show down, boys. Who’s ready to celebrate?” He looks around the greenroom. “Where are the groupies?”
Skylar stiffens. “Why do you need groupies?”
“Not for me, silly goose.” Not missing a beat, he gestures to us. “For them.” Sipping his drink, he meanders past a disheartened Skylar. “I’ll be back in a few.”
Storm shakes his head in disbelief. “Your brother’s such a dumbass.”
Yeah, he is.
You couldn’t pay me enough to cheat on Sky. Hell, I practically worshipped the ground she walked on before she ripped my beating heart out of my chest and stomped on it.
My gaze settles on the liquor table and the open bottle of Jack. “Have you ever met a smart addict?”
Skylar frowns. “Come on, guys. Cut him some slack.”
The girl picked the wrong night to defend that piece of shit she calls her boyfriend.
I level her with a glare that has her hazel eyes widening. “Why? Fuck knows you cut him more than enough.”
Her mouth clamps shut. But just when I think she’s going to stay a little wallflower, that sass emerges.
“Yeah, you do that when you care about someone.” She crinkles her nose. “Oh, that’s right, I forgot I was talking to Mr. Perfect who doesn’t let pesky things like feelings and emotions impact him like the rest of us mere mortals.”
“You’re right.” Taking a step forward, I flash her a punishing smirk intended to piss her off even more.
“But even I know not to fuck groupies when my girl’s around.
Then again, you like sharing, don’t you?
” I drag my gaze up and down her body, lingering on the tits he bought her.
“Oh, that’s right. Sharing is his thing. Your thing is being used.”
For a fraction of a second hurt flickers in her eyes before they fill with rage.
“Bless your cold, black heart, Memphis.” Glossy lips curl up at the corners. “And just so we’re clear, what I really mean is go fuck yourself with a rusty out-of-tune guitar, asshole,” she snaps before turning and nearly barreling into a stunned Phoenix who’s standing in the doorway.
“That was…interesting.” Phoenix hikes a thumb behind him. “On that note, I’m gonna make like a basketball and bounce.”
“What’s the matter?” Storm quips. “You don’t want to stay and see if there’s gonna be an encore?”
“Nah. I prefer fireworks in July, not December.”
With that, he flees the greenroom.
Storm eyeballs me with keen interest. “Wanna talk about it?”
“Talk about what?” I bite out, the warning in my tone clear.
“Duly noted.” Peering around the room, he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “By the way, thanks for telling your brother off earlier. He’s a real dick.”
“No argument here. Besides, you were right. He was off beat.”
Storm frowns at the door Phoenix just exited through. “At least someone had my back.”
Because his best friend sure as fuck didn’t.
Then again, I’m not surprised. The chummier Phoenix and Josh get…the more it drives the wedge between him and Storm.
“Wanna talk about it?” I mock.
Scoffing, he heads over to the mini fridge and grabs two beers. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”
I take a seat on the couch. “Show you what, motherfucker?”
Handing me a beer, he sits beside me. “What the fuck is up with you and Skylar? I’ve never seen you two talk before, and then when you finally do…” Blowing out a puff of air, he simulates an explosion with his hands. “Boom.”
I take a swig of my beer. “So?”
“So, what’s with all the tension?”
Unwilling to tell him shit about my history with Sky, I feign ignorance. “There’s no tension.”
He guffaws incredulously. “Dude, there’s so much tension between you two, I can’t decide if it would be more fun to watch you two kill each other…or fuck each other.”
I pick at the label on the bottle. Been there, done that.
Have the t-shirt and scars to prove it.
Studying me, Storm rubs his chin. “Now I get it.”
“Get what?”
“Sometimes silence says more than words.” He tips his beer at me. “You took a bite of the cookie, became infatuated with all that gooey sweetness, then got caught with your hand in the cookie jar, huh?”
“That’s a lot of talk about cookies for someone who claims he didn’t inherit Grams’s baking skills.”
“Fine, wise ass. You fucked your brother’s girl and then fell for her. Better?”
Worse.
Averting my gaze, I light a cigarette. “It wasn’t like that.”
I developed feelings for Sky long before we screwed.
“Well, whatever it was obviously didn’t end well.”
Given she’s still with him instead of me? I’d say so.
I drop my butt in the bottle and stand. “I have shit to do.”
Like taking my frustration out on the punching bag in the hotel gym.
“Memphis,” he drawls, tone serious.
“What?”
“You claim we’re family, but you keep everyone at an arm’s length.”
The mask as Sky calls it.
But, hey, that’s what happens when you realize people aren’t who you thought they were, and they’ll always let you down.
“I get it, man,” he says as I walk out. “For what it’s worth I don’t trust that shithead either.”
That’s the problem.
I did.