Bled them, really. Because they were made of me.
I can’t touch time
There’s no remedy for this space
How long will you hold me under?
Just end it now
End me now
Everyone screamed, and a frenzy of voices sang out the words in a chaotic chorus.
And I felt so alive.
And so completely ruined.
Because I couldn’t reconcile this, this life I knew, the one we’d strived to attain, created through sweat and blood and unshed tears—through death—with the one my heart told me I wanted.
Lifting my shirt, I wiped the sweat from my face, my body still buzzing and my heart running wild as I headed backstage after the three-song encore.
Ash clapped me on the back as he rushed by, spinning on his heel to look back at me with a huge-ass grin on his face. “Fucking awesome show. Didn’t know how bad I was missing it until I got back on that stage.”
I raised my chin to him. “Yeah, man. Great show.”
He gave me a salute as he spun around again, disappearing into the large reception room with the two attached dressing rooms.
Anthony grabbed my attention from where he was waiting just off stage, gave me a quick hug that was nothing more than a couple quick slaps to my back. “You guys nailed it tonight. Fans were nuts. They needed this.”
“It was kind of insane out there,” I agreed. “Felt good.”
And it did, and I had no clue how to make sense of the mixed emotions, like I was being ripped in two, drawn in separate directions.
Anthony stepped back, expression serious. “Karl Fitzgerald is in the office. He’d like a word.”
“All right,” I agreed on a clipped nod, my nerves jumping, knowing this could be absolutely nothing, or could forever change the direction of our lives. The guy basically held the future of Sunder in the palm of his grubby hand.
Ripping off my sweaty shirt, I snagged the clean one Anthony was offering and threw it over my head.
We headed in the direction of the office, passed by Zee who’d gotten cornered by a group of kids that couldn’t have been older than fourteen, the guy all smiles, true attention turned on them as he scrawled out his autograph on anything they shoved at him and gladly answered their questions. Lyrik strolled right on by, all casual but with that never-ceasing threat that seemed to radiate off him, everyone scrambling out of his way. He sent me a questioning eye as I walked along with Anthony. I gave him a lilt of my head, a silent later, and he returned the same before he followed Ash’s lead and disappeared into the reception room.
Anthony led me into the office. Karl Fitzgerald stood from the old, heavy brown leather rocker office chair, still wearing a suit, always looking completely out of place. “Sebastian Stone,” he said, his voice tight and his hand curt.
I shook it. “It’s nice to see you, Mr. Fitzgerald.”
Actually, I despised the asshole, but I figured that kind of greeting wouldn’t go over so well.
Apparently he didn’t feel the need to fill the space with idle pleasantries, either. “Anthony has filled me in a little on what’s going on with your case. He’s assured me he’s doing everything to ensure this mess is settled out of court.”
I resisted the urge to spit out something sarcastic, because after the disaster this afternoon, I was willing to make bets that was not going to happen. But Anthony seemed confident, was standing behind me, so I had to stand behind him. Like family ought, Anthony always had my back.
“We’re doing everything we can to make sure that happens,” I conceded.