I drank beer after beer while staring at a tiny, black spot on the ceiling above my bed. I imagined I was flying. Gliding down through the clouds—only a tiny speck of the world below peeking through. It infinitely relaxed me, and slowly, my anger toward Nikki washed away. She didn’t understand. She couldn’t. Hell, I didn’t even understand myself half the time. But there was one thing I knew: I wasn’t wrong for being who I was.
I found the remote on the nightstand and set about mindlessly flipping through the channels on the TV. Nothing caught my attention, and before I’d realized it, I had looped back around to where I’d started. Pressing the On Demand button, I hoped there was a movie I hadn’t seen.
I must have hoped entirely too hard, because I got several.
Front and center on the screen was a previously purchased folder, and though the icons were small, it was impossible to mistake them as anything but porn.
I quickly clicked the folder, and then I gaped before I lost it completely. Howling with laughter, I took in the titles of the videos that had been purchased.
Transformer Trannies, G.I. Jack Off, He-man: Uncut, and last but not least, Spock It To Me.
Yeah. Henry Alexander was a lot of things, but subtle was definitely not one of them. And I was quickly realizing he was shameless too.
But he also made me laugh.
I glanced behind me and saw that the clock only read nine fifteen.
I should have ordered up some room service for dinner.
I didn’t. Against my better judgment, I snatched a pair of jeans from my bag and went to the hotel phone.
“Yes. My name is Evan Roth. I believe my boss left a ticket down there for me? Right. Of course. Also, I’ll need a cab. Perfect, thanks.”
I WAS HALFWAY through my set, and Evan still hadn’t showed. It had been a long shot, but I was disappointed all the same. For as many times as I’d scanned the front row for him, Jessica and Tabitha may as well have gotten a private performance. My bassist had even noticed my overwhelming interest in that side of the stage and started blocking me in an effort to get me moving around more.
I’d slapped his straight ass. The crowd had roared.
He’d probably quit. Meh. It was still worth it.
My biggest concern at the moment was: Why was my biggest concern at the moment where the hell Evan was? Why was this guy affecting me like this?
It wasn’t even the chase anymore. I’d just really liked the idea of him watching me perform.
Apparently, I was wrong. That was my biggest concern.
Thousands of people were waving cell phones in the air and singing along to lyrics I’d written on a pad of paper while sitting on Levee’s old garage-sale couch when we’d been just two broke kids with dreams. And there I was, giving them a lackluster show because I was lost in thoughts about a man I had little to no chance with. And, even if I had a chance with him, it would be a fleeting experience.
It always was.
With a resigned sigh, I moved to the center of the stage and signaled to the guitar tech. He came rushing out with my guitar and stool.
“How’s it going so far, Los Angeles?”
The place went nuts in reply.
“That bad, huh?” I laughed, adjusting my mic stand. “Come on. Let’s try that again. I said, ‘How’s it going, Los Angeles?’”
My lids drooped as I filled my lungs with the mixture of sweat and smoke from the pyrotechnics that had long since been programmed into my olfactory nerves as the smell of home. My body soaked up the loud roars of a crowd, readily transferring them into the fuel that drove me through utter exhaustion.
That feeling of complete and total adoration was why I devoted so much of my life to my work. Friends and colleagues who had been prevalent in the industry when I’d first started had all gradually slowed over the years. Most had taken a step out of the spotlight, opting to work on smaller projects in exchange for time with their family or the anonymity needed to enjoy lazy days on the beach.
Not me. That stage was the only place I belonged.
But, as the high filled me, I found myself squinting past the bright lights to that empty seat in the front row. Disappointment slashed through me all over again.
I shouldn’t have cared that much. But I did. Truly. Even if I didn’t understand it.
Shaking my head at myself, I waited for the crowd to quiet before I continued. “Now, that was much better.” I shrugged my guitar on and settled on the stool. “I have a confession to make,” I said, strumming softly across the strings. “You guys probably know this, but I’ve been on the road a lot recently. Sometimes, it can get lonely.”
Catcalls came from women and men alike, making me laugh.
“Not that kind of lonely,” I crooned suggestively. “I figured why not bring my family with me tonight?”
There was exactly one person fans knew I referred to as my family. And this was why they lost their damn minds.