Page 27 of The Comedown

“Julez?”

“Yeah. I’ll be there,” I tell him, nodding dimple-piercing girl over. We both know I didn’t give a specific time, but oh well. He’ll see me when he sees me. And if he doesn’t…then he should probably just look for a new job.

Shit, whatever. Collette’s a pro. I’m sure she can handle whatever I throw at her during our performance together. As for my team, we got this shit down. I trust everyone from my lighting, sound, and pyro guys to Axel, my drummer, so if I’m a little late to sound check, it’s not the end of the world.

“Hey,” says a feminine voice I wouldn’t mind hearing a little louder. And closer.

“Hey,” I say back, feeling just as shy and awkward as I used to be before all this. Before money and fame did the talking for me. Before people stopped listening to me at all and started asking what I could do for them.

I didn’t feel shy and awkward today with Collette though. I felt good. Better than good. Then our lunch together was over and it was right back to the same purgatory I’ve been held prisoner in for the last two years.

I yell for someone to crank the music, then light the bowl, letting the vibe circle me like a hungry shark until I start to finally sink. Just for a while. Just until…

Someone’s yelling at me. I think. Honestly, I can’t really tell. Their lips are moving—that I can tell—but I can’t make out anything they’re saying. I can’t hear anything actually. Except for my heartbeat fucking pounding in my ears. Is it supposed to be that loud?

Why is it so loud?

I glance to the side, finding a heavy curtain staring back at me.

What’s his problem?

Looking at the person in my face again, I nod because it seems like the response they want, but when their face turns redder, I bark out a laugh, stumbling over my own feet and wishing the water would take me back under already. Why did I resurface again? I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be anywhere, not even in my own mind.

Especially not in my own mind.

I catch sight of an angel—a sweaty, gorgeous angel—and think maybe I made it out. I’m finally out of purgatory.

Until she turns to face me, reminding me I found one place I do wanna be—wherever Collette is.

Wanting to follow her, I lurch forward and into the person currently stiff-arming the fuck outta me, keeping me from taking a single step.

“Fuck. Off,” I tell them. I’m going to her and nobody can stop me. Except this person. This fucking “Statue motherfucker!” I yell the last part out loud in their face. Fucking nebby piece of shit. I should get Collette over here, see if she thinks nebby’s a real word or not. It is, at least where I come from, but I bet she wouldn’t think so. She’ll tell me it’s actually “nosey” and probably tease me about it like she did earlier, but I won’t mind because she’s fun when she’s wound up about something. Even when she’s raking my ass over the coals for shortening a word, I like having her attention on me.

The asshole holding me back freezes, then we’re both held captive as Collette pushes her hair out of her face, screaming into the mic held above her as she bends backward. Even though I can’t hear it, I know exactly which song she’s singing. It’s about a breakup, the kind that leaves you fucking wrecked. Near the end, she lets out a scream that’s so raw, swear to God I choked up the first time I heard it, all too aware of what it takes to be broken like that by someone you love.

I figured the song was about her ex, Bodee Keys, so when I finally laid eyes on the motherfucker, I made sure to return the favor. Even if it wasn’t about Bodee, I still would’ve beat that guy’s ass. He gave up The Collette. The dickhead had it coming. Ten years older than Collette, had her tour with him for years—her teen years—before finally putting a ring on it, and then he filed for an annulment right out the gate? That shit don’t add up. I don’t care what the news says, I know he’s the reason they’re not together anymore. He did something…something bad.

Collette’s eyes snag on mine, and instead of returning the smile I’m trying like hell to give her, there’s straight disgust across her features—all of them, even her nose. That shit is fucking scrunched in irritation right now.

Not wanting to see that ever again, I attempt to scrub the memory from my eyes myself, but my hands don’t actually work when I try to lift them.

What the fuck?

Bruce—is it Bruce?—is still holding me in place, and I swear I’m about to lose my shit if he doesn’t let go. As soon as I get feeling back in my body, it’s fucking on. I don’t give a fuck if he’s the tour manager or not, I’m fucking swinging for the fences.

Suddenly Collette’s right in front of me, then something crashes into my stomach, and I double over to puke. I don’t want to, it just kind of happens.

“What the fuck was that?” I ask, glancing around for what could’ve hit me.

I see Collette’s fist a moment before my stomach caves in again with enough force to make me puke so loud—

Oh, shit. I can hear again.

“Ready?” I ask her after standing and wiping my mouth with the sleeve of my shirt. If she’s done with her set, then that means our song’s up next. That’s the order I put everything in anyway. They better not have changed it around on me. I wasn’t here to rehearse, but I still run shit.

“You got puke on my shoes, asshole.” Her headshake gives me vertigo it’s so fucking violent. “I need to change, then I’ll meet you up there.”

I’m the asshole? She was the one that made me puke. Twice.