Life on the road was starting to feel real and while still electrifying, it was no longer fantastical. Jameson was not only her rock but the backbone of the band. Without him, nothing worked. He was the center of everyone’s universe. Daisywondered if it was too much, everyone wanting a piece of him. Between being the frontman of TKC, writing the songs, and being at the label (and Harley’s) beck and call, she didn’t know how he kept it up. The expectations felt impossible, and she often found herself thinking back to New York and how he’d handled similar pressures before. At times, more than she cared to admit, she wondered if he was still using.
She wasn’t always there, always watching.
Her head told her to move on, but her gut… well, her gut told her this lifestyle was inherently unstable, and there was a reason sex and drugs were so often associated with rock ’n’ roll.
She supposed his meticulous routine had helped with the pressure. Jameson was a creature of habit—something Daisy had never noticed before. He needed consistency, stability and they had established a rhythm—wake up tangled together, eat, disappear behind closed doors, rehearse, perform, party, and slip away again.
He was relentless. With his music but mostly with her. At first, it felt intoxicating, but soon the repetition started to feel… off.
Daisy told herself it was just adrenaline, the thrill of tour life. But after a while, she noticed the oddities. His pupils seemed wider than usual, his temper shorter. He’d vanish for an hour with a flimsy excuse about “getting inspired” and come back wired, talking faster than her mind could keep up. The music pouring out of him was brilliant, almost too brilliant, like he was chasing something only he could see, and no one else.
She wanted to believe it was just the stress, the stage lights, the weight of the crowds. But deep down, Daisy feared it was something much darker.
Chapter Thirteen
LAS VEGAS IS WHERE SHEadmitted it aloud. The understanding lodged like a rock in her core, and once it settled, she was physically ill with it. She had to tell someone.
She rapped on Lenny’s hotel door.
A groggy Lenny peered through the crack. “Hey, Double D.”
Daisy managed a small smile at the old nickname, even though she had never quite amounted to it. “Hey.”
“What’s up? You okay?”
Was she?
She shook her head. He opened the door wider and ushered her inside. Daisy went straight for the balcony, needing air. She gripped the railing and looked out over the Strip’s neon span, the city always buzzing. Lenny stood beside her, letting the heat soak his skin, waiting.
She blew out an unsteady breath. “He’s doing drugs. Cocaine, definitely. Maybe pills, too.”
She said it flatly, as if numbness might make it untrue.
Lenny scrubbed at his hair, mouth parting. “How do you know for sure?”
She twisted a strand of hair around her finger, turning from the view. “He’s not sleeping. Wired. Up all night writing and… wanting me constantly. He keeps going out at weird hours for ‘inspiration,’ but I don’t think that’s what he’s chasing. And… I think I saw him.”
“Saw him what?” Lenny pushed.
“I walked in on him with a couple of the roadies… They all looked like they were up to no good. There was clearly residue on the table, but Jameson ushered me out before I could really confirm it. I’m not sure what to do.” Her voice thinned on the last word, and she swallowed it back.
“If he’s using,” Lenny said, sliding an arm around her shoulders, “we’ll handle it. You’re not alone.”
“If?” She stared. “I know it, Lenny. There’s no question he’s using again.”
Lenny’s brow creased. “Again? Wait—this isn’t the first time?”
Daisy pressed her hands to her face and cursed into her palms. She’d promised to keep New York between them. And here she was, cracking it wide open.
Lenny tightened his grip on the railing and waited.
“No,” she said. “I caught him in New York a few months back… confronted him.”
“Shit.” The word barely made it out.
“He promised he wouldn’t do it again but… What are we going to do?” she asked, breathing out to the bustling below.
He blinked rapidly, fingers combing his already-messy hair. “California is next. San Diego, then Los Angeles. Both are big, but LA… LA could change everything.”
