“Can’t say that I have,” Jacob said. He stared at the door as if Adam coming through it depended solely on his focus.
A few minutes later, Gabe hopped down from the stage, his drumsticks in one hand. “What’s the holdup?”
“Adam’s missing,” Jacob said.
“Missing?”
“Yeah, he was just here.”
And Kellen had been worried that people would be waiting on him for a change.
Owen grabbed Kellen’s arm and attention. “Should we go look for him?”
“Let the road crew handle it.” Kellen doubted they’d have to wait much longer. “We wouldn’t want them to have to round us all up again when they find him.”
Kellen was rethinking his doubt when the road crew turned up and claimed there were no signs of Adam, not even the motorcycle he’d rented. Apparently he’d taken off without letting anyone know where he was going.
“Fuck!” Jacob yelled, turning accusative eyes in his bandmates’ direction as if they’d given Adam the okay to blow off the show. “Did he say anything to any of you?”
Owen cringed beneath Jacob’s anger and shook his head. Kellen mimicked Owen’s motion. Why would they stand there for ten minutes waiting for Adam to show up and then suddenly remember they knew exactly where he was? Sometimes Jacob made no sense.
“Fuck!” Jacob shouted again. “What in the hell is he thinking?”
“Maybe there’s an emergency,” Owen said exactly what Kellen was thinking.
“Even if there is, he could have taken a few seconds to tell someone,” Jacob said.
True, but if the emergency involved Adam, maybe he was physically incapable of telling someone.
“Fuck!” Jacob yelled. “I’m going after him.”
“Do you know where he went?” Gabe asked.
Jacob checked the Adam-tracking app on his phone, but all he could tell was that Adam was headed west.
“What’s west?” Kellen asked. Besides Dawn.
“Texas. Madison. His fucking heroin dealer. How the hell should I know?”
“Calm down,” Owen said. “We’ll figure something out.”
“I’ll try calling him,” Kellen said. “Maybe he’ll answer.” He hoped that by presenting a calm front, the rest of them would follow his lead. Because they were all freaking out. He listened to Adam’s phone ring and ring, but he got no answer. While he was leaving a message, Sally joined them.
“What’s going on?” she asked. “Why aren’t you on stage?”
“Adam isn’t here,” Jacob said. “We can’t perform without our lead guitarist, can we?”
“I’m worried.” Owen looked at Kellen and lifted his brows in an unspoken question.
Kellen shook his head—he hadn’t been able to reach Adam. He tucked his phone back into his pocket.
“He wouldn’t just run off like that unless it was a life or death situation.”
“Yes, he would,” Jacob said.
Kellen could see both their points. It was very possible that Adam was in trouble, but it was equally likely that Adam was just being irresponsible Adam. It wouldn’t be the first time. Why would anyone think it would be his last?
Jacob took a moment to remind them of Adam’s addiction problems and how Jacob himself had always been the one who’d scraped the guy off rock bottom.
“He’s changed, Jacob,” Gabe said, though he was looking at the floor, so Kellen didn’t think he was convinced that Adam had changed.
“He has?” Jacob shook his head. “Sorry, but I don’t see it.”
While the rest of them looked on, wondering what the hell he was doing, Jacob jogged out onto the stage.
“Good evening, New Orleans,” he called out to the audience. “You look ready to rock!”
They cheered, and Kellen cringed. Why was Jacob getting them amped up when there was no way for them to perform?
“Unfortunately, our performance is not going to happen tonight. Our lead guitarist, Adam Taylor, was called away on an emergency. So we have to cancel the show.”
The crowd roared in angry disappointment, and Jacob promised to square them away, but even if they refunded the tickets or rescheduled, the fans would never get back the time they’d wasted coming to the arena only to be turned away.
“This is a fucking nightmare,” Gabe said.
“Understatement of the century,” Owen said. “The fans are pissed.”
Kellen was starting to get that way himself, and it took a lot to piss him off.
Jacob returned a few minutes later with some teenager wearing a beanie hat, and asked Kellen if he’d reached Adam. Kellen shook his head. Obviously not.
“Okay.”
Jacob explained his plan B: having a young guitarist, who they didn’t know from Adam—actually, they did know he wasn’t Adam—take their wildly talented and popular lead guitarist’s place that night.
Desperate much, Jacob?
“So I say we give him a chance to prove himself,” Jacob was saying. “What’s your name?”
He didn’t even know the guy’s name?
“Wes.”
The same name as Dawn’s agent—what were the odds? Maybe it was a sign. Maybe the kid knew the ins and outs of the music business just as Dawn’s agent did. Or maybe the guy couldn’t tell a fretboard from a tuning peg.
Kellen’s jaw dropped when Wes played every requested Sole Regret riff and solo with surprising skill. He was no Adam Taylor. Hell, Kellen was no Adam Taylor and he’d played with the guy for a decade. But the kid could play. So they held the concert without Adam and let young Wes be a rock star for an evening.
Perhaps someone—Jacob—should have asked Kellen to fill in for Adam. He could have handled it. He didn’t want the job full-time or anything, but fuck, no one—certainly not Jacob—had even asked Kellen if he wanted to play lead in Adam’s place. One of the technicians could have probably played Kellen’s part on rhythm guitar. Maybe Kellen should have said something instead of assuming one of the guys would read his mind. But he didn’t hold any of that against young Wes.
Kellen actually had a good time with Owen onstage. They played off one another, leaving Wes alone so that he could concentrate. Playing with Owen took the edge off, even though Kellen was already missing Dawn and still worried about Adam.
Once the concert ended, he followed Owen back to the tour bus, checking his phone for messages. One from his cellular carrier, but nothing he wanted to hear or read. Nothing from Adam. Nothing from Dawn.
Kellen sighed and plopped down on the sofa next to Owen. “I actually think Jacob was okay with that little scenario.”
“More than okay with it,” Gabe said. “I think he preferred it. He had Sally get that kid’s information.”
“He’s a nice kid and all,” Owen said, “but . . .”
“. . . he’s no Adam Taylor,” the three said in unison.