Page 68 of Toxic Kiss

Declan shakes his head.

“No, you aren’t wrong.”

“If you want us to continue playing this up for the cameras, then you will keep her away. And in return, I’ll play your game and make sure that Cy gets the help he needs under the radar.”

Dad sighs and then smirks.

“Alright, you have a deal. I’ll get the paperwork drawn up and meet with you once it’s complete so we can sign it. I’ll also keep Anita away as best as I can. We’re staying for the concert tonight and staying the night. Do you want to grab dinner tomorrow?”

“Yeah, maybe. Let’s see how Cy is doing…wait…you didn’t cancel the show tonight?”

“No, it’s a sold-out crowd. The show must go on. He’ll be evaluated shortly and will be released this afternoon in plenty of time to get ready for the concert.”

Biting my lip to keep from screaming, I glare at my father and then Declan. At least Declan looks uneasy with the decision.

“Unbelievable.”

I turn and walk away, feeling like a little kid whose balloon animal just popped. How can the father I love and remember be so cold now? There is only one reason that comes to mind—Anita. She’s found a way to turn my father into this cold, money-first person that I don’t recognize.

“Rock Star?”

I look back, and he points at me like I’ve made him proud.

“I knew you had the cutthroat in you.”

I give him a bleak smile and keep walking. LG Records has lost its way. In the five years that I was gone, my father has lost his moral compass and it’s breaking my heart.

chapter

twenty

“They ask if I'm hearing voices. I am. They're just my own, screaming at me to run.” – Cyrus

CYRUS

This room smells like antiseptic and loneliness, but under that is an odd hint of something obnoxiously sweet like frosting on a cake. The chair beneath my ass is just uncomfortable enough to remind me I’m not here by choice.

But if I want out of this jail of white walls, then I need to talk to the psychiatrist. Mandatory BS. Bunch of idiots. If I want to take my life, I’ll just swallow the entire bottle of pills and then chug a bottle of whiskey before locking myself in the bathroom when no one is looking for me.

Why fuck around with one pill when I’ll be on stage, and everyone is looking for me? I’m not a cry for help, stupid or suicidal. But alas…here I sit.

I’ve been here for five minutes alone with a table, two chairs, no windows, and blank walls meant to help me focus. Instead, they only make my brain feel like there is a squirrel on ecstasy spinning around inside my skull. Apparently, Dr. Stevens is running behind, that, or he doesn’t give a shit that every second alone in here makes my heart race and my palms sweat as terror grabs me by the throat.

My knee bounces, and I could really go for a smoke right about now. Fuck I hate these rooms. Calming? Sure, and I’m the Easter Bunny. It’s like they’ve dumped me in the movie Cube. It’s too clean, industrial flat white walls. I’m as imprisoned as the people in the film, and answering one question wrong is the worst kind of trap.

Unlocking my phone, I send Haven a text.

Cyrus: Hey

Haven: Hey?

Cyrus: What are you doing?

Haven: Jello fighting, it’s my new pastime.

I smirk.

Cyrus: What flavor?