I shifted in my seat, itching to get back to the arena for a game of poker with some of the roadies. I’d won a hundred dollars yesterday, which the guys didn’t know about. They also had no idea about the underground poker group that I’d discovered while looking for something to give me an extra buzz for the show—which was necessary now that I no longer had the desire to bang groupies the way I used to before Nicole came into my life.
My heart squeezed painfully at the thought of her. I swigged some more beer.
“You’re not moody,” Kirk said. “You’re depressed, Mason.”
“I’m not depressed. I’m happy.” I grinned. Then stopped because the action hurt my cheeks. And it wasn’t just my cheeks that hurt. My entire body ached with exhaustion.
“I believe that as much as I believe in the Easter Bunny.”
“I’m sure the Easter Bunny will be happy to hear it.” I tried to form a smirk on my face, but the effort wasn’t worth it and I gave up.
“My mother used to suffer from depression,” Kirk said, ignoring my smartass comment. “I know the signs.”
“Well, good for you, puck boy, but I am not depressed. I’m just tired. Touring will do that to you.” None of the guys could deny it. They were just as tired from all the touring as I was. Ours wasn’t an easy lifestyle. It was the reason Nicole had gone home. It was the reason she and I had never discussed a future together. Our lives were too different for us to make it work.
But no matter how many times I told myself that, I had a hard time believing it. Somehow we could’ve made it work. It was my past gambling addiction that she’d had an issue with. In her eyes, I was no better than her asshole father. She might have had a point there.
I finished my burger, even though I didn’t feel like eating, but if I didn’t eat it, the guys would’ve been on my case for that too, the way they’d been yesterday. We paid for our food, then returned to the arena. The sky had been cloudy when we walked to the restaurant. Now it was pouring, like it was pissed off at the world.
As we passed the security guard standing at the back entrance to the arena, my phone buzzed. I glanced at the screen. Nicole had sent me a text. For the first time since she’d left the tour, my heart came alive in my chest, knowing that she hadn’t completely pushed me out of her life.
I opened the text to find a picture of Bernie, the giant English mastiff. Drool hung from his mouth and his face featured rolls of dark wrinkles. My mouth tugged slightly up at the memory of walking him with Nicole, when we resembled a part of the family she had envisioned one day for herself, with the perfect husband, two-point-four kids, dog, and cat.
She had also sent me a message with the photo: Bernie misses you. A heart emoji was next to her words.
I miss Bernie, I typed back. Meaning that I missed both the dog and her. More so her.
“What the hell is that?” Aaron asked, peering at my phone. “Is it some sort of genetically modified dog? It’s huge…and kind of ugly.”
I pulled the phone to my chest, as if protecting Bernie from hearing what Aaron had said. “Hey, never let Bernie hear you say that. He’s a great dog.”
We still had a few minutes before we were due to meet Remar, so we headed to the dressing room first to change into dry clothing. Afterward we walked down the brightly lit hallway to the conference room, all of us suddenly quiet, as if we were heading to a funeral. Hopefully not our own. Other than the heavy tread of our booted feet against the gray floor, the corridor was silent.
We entered the conference room where Remar was supposed to meet us. The sight of him left me craving something to give me a happy buzz. The man was capable of sucking the life out of you, just by being in the same room. He must be fun to be around at the office Christmas party. A real jolly old St. Nick.
I stumbled my way to an empty chair, as far away from him as possible. Then I squirmed in my seat, attempting to get comfy. An urge hit me, like an impossible-to-get-rid-of itch, to leave and find Doug. He was the roadie who had what I needed to take off the edge.
Remar smiled. Holy shit. I hadn’t thought the man was capable of doing that. Would miracles never cease?
Next to him was a guy in his late twenties, with very short hair like Remar had. The only difference was Remar’s hair was gray while the younger man’s hair was black. His dress shirt was an interesting contrast to the hoop piercing above his left eyebrow.
“Congratulations, gentlemen, on the album’s recent success,” Remar said, still smiling.
We all nodded our thanks.
“In light of this, I’ve decided to take you off the Endless Motion tour come February and have you headlining your own tour. We’ll be announcing the dates next week.”
No one spoke for several seconds. We just stared at him, positive we’d misheard him.
Nolan was the first to collect himself. “We’ll really be headlining?”
Remar nodded. “It was a ballsy move to do the encore in Atlantic City, but it worked. Fans are demanding that you headline your own tour so they can see more of you. They aren’t happy that you’re just the opening act.”
That news wasn’t a surprise to anyone in the room. Nicole had already told us as much from working with our social media sites and from answering our fan email.
“You’ll continue with Endless Motion until the new dates, then we’ll switch you over. Your new tour manager will fly out on Thursday to iron out details with you for the shows. And in the meantime, let me introduce you to your new social media specialist. Trey will be joining you for the rest of your tour, and will continue with you on the new tour.”
The guys and I exchanged looks. Yes, Nicole was gone and wasn’t coming back, but weren’t we the ones who got to decide whom we hired? The record company wasn’t paying his salary. We were.
“Trey has an impressive background,” Remar continued, “including a communications degree with a specialization in social media, and an MBA in marketing. Because of that, he will also be working with you to help capitalize on the band’s marketing.”
Trey sat up a little straighter. “Yes, I was impressed with what you guys have achieved in the way of marketing.” What Nicole had achieved. “But there are some other areas you can explore as well.”
Kirk swiveled his chair in my direction, a guess-you-won’t-be-screwing-around-with-this-one smirk dancing at the corner of his mouth. I mentally flipped him one.
Trey spent the next few minutes enlightening us with his plans for our marketing. I couldn’t have told you what they were because I’d tuned him out soon after he started talking. All I could focus on beyond the blah blah blah was when the hell we were getting out of here, so I could track down Doug and the poker game.
My leg bounced rhythmically under the table. I had to fight the urge to pound a beat on the edge of the wood. Until I scored something or got behind my drums, I was pretty helpless at keeping the restlessness under control.
Eventually we were released and I located Doug. Most of what happened afterward was a blur. I had some beer. I lost two grand. I drank some more beer and had some pot. I might have gotten into an argument with Aaron. I couldn’t be sure.
We went onstage, and as always nailed our performance, even with me buzzed. But the happy buzz faded by the end of our set. Thanks to all the drumming I’d done, I sweated away the benefits.
“I’m beat,” I told the guys after we’d finished our encore, which Remar had told us would continue for the rest of the tour. With the adrenaline high the guys had going, they were ready to go out. But it wasn’t the same without Nicole. Nothing was the same without her. “I’m just going to head back to the bus and read. Maybe catch up on sleep or play a video game.” I wanted to be left alone, something that didn’t happen too often on tour.
At first the guys hesitated at the idea of leaving without me, but after I insisted I would be fine and was going straight back to the bus, they decided to go without me.
As promised, I returned to the bus and checked my p
hone for any more messages from Nicole. Nothing. I sat down hard on the couch and stared at Bernie’s picture. But instead of reliving the memory of walking him with Nicole, all I saw was the slobbering dog.
I pushed off the couch and walked back to my bunk, where I had left my sports bag. I unzipped it and pulled out the whiskey bottle I’d hidden there.
Back on the couch, I gulped down a mouthful of the smooth amber liquid and popped one of the pills Doug had given me earlier. The best kind of painkiller around—the kind that killed the pain of a broken heart.
I chased it with more whiskey and stared at the photo of Bernie—remembering everything I could about the few days I had spent living with Nicole in Desert Springs—until I blacked out.
Chapter 33
Nicole
“Explain again why I’m doing this?” I asked Heidi as I inspected my makeup in the mirror. Next to me, Heidi was applying a coat of red lipstick.
“Because Simon’s a nice guy, fits your criteria perfectly, and is good-looking. And because you’ve been moping around your house for the past week.”
“I haven’t been moping. I’ve been busy finalizing the plans for the grand reopening. And I’ve been working on my new line of glass etchings.” Technically, I’d been staring at a blank piece of paper for the past week, but it was the thought that counted.
Heidi’s face brightened. “Can I see them?”
“The final plans for the reopening?” Which hadn’t changed since the last time I’d shown them to her.
“No, the designs for the new line.”
Yeah, that’s what I was afraid of. “They’re…they’re not quite ready for you to see just yet.” I applied my pink lip gloss in the mirror—any excuse to avoid looking at her. I didn’t want to see if she believed me or not. I just longed for our double date to be over so I could return home to my much anticipated evening of ice cream and any movie on Netflix that didn’t have Die Hard in the title or any hint of romance in it.
“The guys should be here in a minute,” I said, attempting to distract her. The guys were Simon and Heidi’s boyfriend, Chris. Simon played on the same touch football team as Chris, which was how they knew each other.
I quickly escaped the bathroom before she could challenge me about the designs. She knew me well enough to know I was stretching the truth when I said I’d been working on them.
Luckily for me, the doorbell rang as my foot hit the final stair. I opened the door, which was a lot easier thanks to Mason’s having fixed it when he was staying here. My heart slumped at the reminder of him. After a week of trying not to think about him every second of every day, I’d sent him a picture of Bernie. The pieces of my heart, which I had sloppily taped back together, broke apart again at his I miss Bernie reply. He didn’t miss me. He only missed the dog.
Not that I could blame him after the way I’d turned my back on him.
I plastered a smile on my face and greeted Chris and the guy who I assumed was Simon. He was tall, muscular, and ruggedly good-looking, with short light brown hair. According to Heidi, he didn’t have any tattoos.
The thought of that didn’t make me think about Mason’s tattoos. Nor was I thinking about how I used to trace my fingers over them after making love to him, as if absorbing their individual messages into my heart.
Heidi bounced downstairs and flung herself at Chris. Fortunately, she gave him only a quick kiss, nothing that would make Simon and me feel awkward—as if going on a blind date wasn’t awkward enough.
Instead of the romantic comedy Heidi wanted to see, we went to see some big-budget, action-hero-type movie. Since not a single kiss was exchanged on the big screen the entire time, I had to give the movie a thumbs-up. It was the perfect date movie to see when dealing with a broken heart.
Afterward we drove to Heidi’s favorite restaurant for pizza. Heidi kept giving me the so-what-do-you-think look, which left me struggling to not roll my eyes. Simon was a great guy—if you were into gamers.
As he was explaining the ins and outs of one of his favorite games, my phone rang. I glanced at the number. Nolan? A bad feeling slithered down my back. “I need to answer this,” I said as I accepted the call, hands trembling. “Hi, Nolan. What’s up?”
In the background, I could hear what sounded like “Code blue, room eighteen” and the quiet murmurs of people talking.
He cleared his throat. “I wanted to tell you before you heard it from the media. Mason’s in the hospital.”
“Oh God. What happened?”
“I’m not sure exactly.” The heavy mix of emotions choking Nolan’s voice told me that whatever had happened to Mason was far more serious than him needing stitches or having a broken bone. I came within an inch of begging Nolan not to tell me. I didn’t think my heart could take it. “Jared and I returned to the bus and found him unconscious….From the looks of it, he might have OD’d.”
My blood turned cold at his words. “OD’d?” I asked, voice shaky. I could feel everyone at the table watching me while I stared at the white tablecloth as though it was a life preserver, the one thing keeping me afloat. “Is he okay?”
“I don’t know,” Nolan said. “They’re working on him, but we haven’t heard anything. He was barely alive when we found him.”
My hand flew to my mouth, and I only just contained the sob threatening to erupt. I didn’t know what to do. I just knew I couldn’t sit in the restaurant on a date while the man I loved was clinging to life.
Without a word to Heidi or our dates, I stood up and headed for the main entrance. I didn’t want them or anyone else in the restaurant to be part of the conversation. “What happened? I had no idea he was using drugs,” I said as I exited through the door.
Nolan mumbled what could have been “shit.” “How much did he tell you about his past?”
I leaned back against the brick wall. I had a feeling I would need it to help keep me upright. “Apparently not as much as he should have. I only knew that his family disowned him because of something he’d done, but he wouldn’t tell me what it was.” But given my history with a father who had been a gambling addict, it didn’t take much to guess what he had done to destroy their trust in him. I just wondered how much money he had cost them. “I’m guessing it had to do with his gambling addiction.”
“It did. He paid them back with interest, but they wanted nothing to do with him. From what he told us, he struggled with depression several years before that and tried to commit suicide. It was only because your brother became worried about him when he wasn’t answering his phone that Mason didn’t die.”
“Oh God!” That was why Mason had driven all the way from L.A. when Zack had been worried about me. Mason believed he owed my brother for saving his life.
“As far as we know, he only started gambling again while we were in Atlantic City,” Nolan said. “His father’s death and what happened with his family at the funeral must have caused the relapse. And he started drinking more, especially after…” He let the final words hang.
“After what?”
Nolan sighed, long and heavy. “After you left. What with everything else, he didn’t handle it so well. We suspected he was also getting high.”
“How? Where the hell was he getting drugs from?” Oh, who was I kidding? He was in a rock band. Drugs were common, even if I had never witnessed anyone use or deal them while I was on tour with them.
“Wish I knew. If something happens to Mason, I’ll personally kill the guy he got the drugs from. All we know is that he stayed on the bus when the rest of the band went out after the show. He said he was tired and just wanted to sleep or play a video game. Jared and I returned early and found him unconscious, a half-empty bottle of whiskey next to him. We don’t even know what drug he was using.”
I closed my eyes, Nolan’s words pulling me under, making it hard to breathe. “Do you think he tried to commit suicide again?” The sob I’d been barely holding back finally broke free.
“I really don’t know. But we
found out today that we’ll be headlining our own tour soon.”
Even though he couldn’t see me, I smiled, although it was weak at best. “Congratulations! You guys deserve it. It was about time your label finally realized it.”
“So it doesn’t make sense that Mason would try to kill himself,” Nolan continued, without acknowledging what I had said. “He wanted this as much as the rest of us did.”
“Then it was probably an accidental overdose,” I said, praying it was true. Praying he would be all right. Praying that if there really was a God, he wouldn’t be offended that I hadn’t believed in him, and would still listen to my prayers for Mason.
“You’re probably right. Look, I should go now. I just wanted you to know before it explodes on social media.”
I would have offered to help them, but this afternoon I’d received a call from their label letting me know that my services were no longer required. They had hired a more qualified candidate. He was taking over the contest I’d been running on the band’s behalf. To say it hadn’t stung would be like saying a great white shark didn’t bite.
“I can be on the next plane out.” I needed to be there for him, to make sure he fought for what was important—his life.
“It’s best that you don’t. It’s not like the doctors will let you see him anyway. And he wouldn’t want you to see him this way.”
If I had thought the call from the label had hurt, that was nothing compared to Nolan’s words. I sucked in a sharp breath. It did nothing to dull the pain. “Will you keep me updated on his condition?” I asked.
“Are you…are you sure you want that?”
I could feel my face crumple. “I still love him, and I miss him so much it hurts.” I covered my mouth with my hand, working hard at regaining some sort of control over my emotions, as futile as the effort was. I took a deep breath and lowered my hand. “I need to know he’s going to be okay.”
“All right. As soon as I find out anything, I’ll let you know.”
“Thank you,” I whispered. We ended the call, and for the longest time I stood leaning against the wall, staring at my phone. Eventually Heidi came out of the restaurant looking for me.
I Need You Tonight Page 23
