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That sucked.
He’d been tempted to call her out on it. But he’d told her upfront that all he required was honesty and she’d given it to him. It was his problem if he didn’t like how the truth sounded. He needed to accept it. The only other option was to walk away. And screw that. He wasn’t that noble. No way was he turning down the opportunity to be with Oakley tonight. If what she wanted was a hot night in bed, he was more than game for it. She wanted an escape, a wild time—fine. She picked the right guy for it. He’d bring his A-game.
Pike peered toward the far side of the room, watching Brax’s lips move on the other side of the soundproof glass. He couldn’t decipher the words but based on Brax’s expression, it was positive news. Geoff set his guitar aside and waggled his brows at Pike. “Think Harlan landed us a spot on a tour?”
Pike got up from his drum throne, spinning one of his sticks in his fingers, nervous energy coursing through him. “Could be. There are a lot of summer tours being put together. Now would be the time.”
“Might snag a festival. The Manic Five just got a spot at Edge Fest.”
“That’d be good, but we need more than onetime gigs if we want to get any traction. Otherwise, we’re going to end up on another club tour when the next album drops.”
The thought of that made Pike’s head hurt. He loved performing, and club shows used to be fun—the energy, the intimacy of the crowd. But it was a grind, too, because in order to make any money, you had to book three times the number of shows you’d have on a big tour. He’d paid those dues and didn’t relish going that route again. Plus, he had bad memories from the club tours. The endless travel on the bus, the long nights of partying, the Groundhog Day life. He’d nearly killed himself on that first tour, trying every illegal substance he could get his hands on and drinking his way down from the highs. He’d come back a fucking disaster.
Foster had kicked Pike’s ass when he’d returned so strung out. Pike hadn’t jonesed for the drugs so much but he’d craved the constant companionship and partying. The mayhem. He spent the first few weeks back home, fighting off panic attacks anytime he was alone in the quiet and going out to clubs to get lost in the crowd. He didn’t realize then that he’d never learned how to be alone. He’d jumped from big family to living with Foster to touring. When Foster had found him one night, blitzed out on too many antianxiety meds and in danger of overdosing, Foster had dragged him back to his place. That’s when they’d become roommates again. Foster knew Pike had no family looking out for him and took on that role instead.
Of course, that meant Foster had turned into a complete pain in the ass for a while afterward—making Pike get up and go to the gym, setting him up with a therapist, forcing him to work on new songs. Looking back, he knew now that Foster had just put that dominant side of his to use—taking control when Pike was unmoored. But it’d been ten kinds of annoying at the time. He probably would’ve bailed if Foster hadn’t eventually introduced him to The Ranch. That’s when things had started to settle inside of him. There was a place to push the edge without having to party or get high every night. There was a place he could be himself.
And since then, he’d managed to quell that need for chaos. The fact that he now lived alone—and enjoyed it—was testament to that. So even though he wanted nothing more than to see his band reach the next level, he dreaded life on tour. Yes, he missed performing. It was his first love. But he liked coming home every night to his own place and to Monty. He liked working with emerging artists at the studio. Hell, he was even enjoying the charity project. If they landed a tour, he’d have to drop all of that for months or even a year, depending on how big of a tour it was.
But he wanted the band to succeed. He wanted arenas. He wanted his mother and that fucker Red to see he was more than a piece of trash to be discarded. He wanted to build that mansion on the hill and then not invite them to dinner. The desire was ugly, but he couldn’t help that it was there. That fire had gotten him this far, and it still hadn’t gone out.
So he’d do whatever it took. He just prayed that Darkfall got an opening spot on a bigger tour instead of the club circuit. Fewer shows, more people, more exposure. Maximum impact.
Braxton tucked his phone into his pocket and headed back into the studio space. He was grinning wide.
“So?” Geoff asked.
“We got a spot at Voodoo Fest in New Orleans in October. Early time slot, but lots of big names on the same ticket.”
Pike tucked his hands in his back pockets and smiled. “Sweet.”
“And,” Brax said in his wait-there’s-more voice, “we’re one of three opening bands being considered for Wanderlust’s summer tour.”
“Wanderlust?” Geoff asked, impressed. “Shit, they’re blowing up right now. That could be huge.”
Pike’s smile went wider. “Well, hot damn. That fucker Lex Logan might pull through. Guess lead singers aren’t as unreliable as I thought.”
Braxton looked over at him, ignoring the dig. “You have something to do with this?”
Pike shrugged. “I called Lex a few months ago. Even though his band’s a big deal now, Lex hasn’t forgotten that we all started in the same place, played some of the same shows. He likes our stuff and knows we hit a rough patch that was out of our control. I didn’t want any pity, but I wanted to let him know that if they were ever looking to fill a slot to look us up.”
“Fucking A,” Geoff said, standing and stretching his neck. “It’d be perfect. Their music is sick. And can you imagine the prime level of ass they must get backstage at their shows?”
Pike sniffed. “Glad to see it’s all about the music for you, man.”
Braxton rocked forward on his toes, looking almost giddy. “Harlan said there are two other bands they’re looking at, so it’s not a done deal. But he’s going to send them a few videos of our recent performances so they can see for sure that my voice is back.”
“Awesome. We’ve been killing it lately. They watch those videos, we’ve got this,” Geoff said.
Pike smirked. “You don’t even know who the other two bands are.”
He shrugged and pushed his shaggy dark hair behind his ears. “Doesn’t matter. We’re fucking Darkfall!”
Pike laughed and bumped fists with the other two guys. “Damn straight.”
Brax checked the time on his phone. “Hey, we should go out and celebrat
e. A girl I met the other night is having a big birthday bash at a club downtown. She said the whole band was invited. She’s a model, so I bet her friends will be hot, too.”
