Chapter One
Ross
The lights go down, and I jog in place, warming up.
The crowd is loud tonight.
Energetic and excited and ready for some rock and roll.
I catch the eye of my lead guitarist and nod.
Our drummer is already out there, kicking a rhythmic staccato on the bass drum. The bass player matches his time, punching out deep, low beats that reverberate through the arena.
It’s go time.
I run out on stage and grab my mic just as the spotlight hits me.
“Phoenix!” I yell. “Who’s ready for some Ross and roll?!”
Our catch phrase sends the crowd into a frenzy as my drummer counts off.
“1-2-3-4!”
We go right into “Hot and Hammered,” our newest release, and I dance across the stage, feet moving in time to the music.
Getting’ so high so we can’t get by
Loving by the lights of the city
Ridin’ on the back with your hair in the air
Damn, baby, you look so pretty.
I lean forward, singing to the ladies in the front row.
But something is wrong.
Their faces start to melt and suddenly the entire audience vanishes, leaving me performing for an empty house. I spin around to look at my band in confusion, but they aren’t there either. Just lifeless blobs melting into the stage…
I sit straight up in bed, sweat covering my body like a second skin.
Not again.
I wipe my hands down my face, breathing hard, trying to still the hammering of my heart.
God damn nightmares.
I’ve been having the same one once a week or so for nearly two decades.
They always start the same, with me living my dream, and end with the nightmare of my reality.
No amount of therapy, pharmaceutical intervention, or even alcohol stops them from coming back. The only thing that stops them is not sleeping, and I can only go so long before that catches up to me.
I get out of bed and pad into the bathroom.
After taking care of business, I wash my face and stare into the mirror.
At forty-two, I don’t think I’m old, but my days as a rockstar feel like a lifetime ago.
