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“Sorry, Ian, we were, er—we thought—” James started, looking guilty as fuck.
“We’re fucking kidnapping you, dude,” Marcus exclaimed, without a second of guilt in his tone.
“What?”
He didn’t explain any more. He nodded toward me. “Come on, guys. Grab him.”
The bandmates did as Marcus said, and before I could yell, Eric pulled out a roll of duct tape and slapped a piece against my mouth. “Sorry, Ian. But this is for your own good.”
What in the hell? Where the hell was security? Didn’t they see me on camera being dragged out of my hotel room by three men in black? This had to look suspicious as fuck.
When we got outside, going through the back entrance of the hotel, there was a black van parked near us. They hurried me over, tossed me inside, and scrambled in themselves.
Marcus hopped behind the steering wheel and began driving off.
I ripped the tape off my mouth and hollered, “What the fuck is wrong with you psychopaths?”
“Sorry, man,” James said as he calmly put on his seat belt. “We just didn’t think you’d come easily of your own accord. But to be completely clear, the ninja kidnapping was Marcus’s idea.”
“And a damn good idea, if you ask me! I always wanted to do, like, an underground kidnapping. For fun, obviously—I’m not a damn crazed human. And it was going great until Bozo the Clown over here yelled.”
“He fucking bit me!” Eric exclaimed once more. “I think I’m bleeding. He hit a vein.”
“Don’t be a fucking baby, or I’ll tell Mom to start changing your diapers again.”
“Fuck you, Marcus!”
“Fuck you too, little brother.”
“Fuck you both!” I added in, still feeling dazed, confused, and drunk as fuck. “What the hell is going on?”
James leaned over my waist and buckled my seat belt like the damn caring guy he had always been. I would’ve thanked him, too, if he hadn’t just kidnapped me.
“Listen, Ian. I’ve been up all night doing some deep computer-nerd digging,” Eric explained. “I didn’t feel settled enough knowing that our album was leaked somehow but the record company hadn’t a clue how it happened. So I did some work. And you won’t believe what I found. It was—”
“Max Fucking Rider!” Marcus blurted out as he drove down the road.
“Dude, what the hell?” Eric snapped, smacking his brother in the arm. “That was my massive reveal.”
“Will you get over yourself and continue the story?” Marcus ordered.
Eric sighed at his brother and raked his hands through his hair. “It was Max Fucking Rider. I tracked the hack back to a server that led us straight to his laptop. Then, for extra confirmation—because if you’re going to geek out, you’re going to geek out all the way—I hacked his emails and his social media and his everything. He had emails back and forth with Donnie from weeks ago. They went on and on about how the music we created wasn’t mainstream enough and they needed to make a big shift before the release.”
What?
“They set us up, dude!” Marcus said. “They fucked us in the asshole and then sat in front of us and called us divas for being pissed about it.”
“Holy shit,” I muttered, sitting back in my seat, finally letting the shock of being kidnapped disappear as the shock of being fucked up the ass began to hit me. “Why would they do that?”
“Money, probably. Everything’s about money to these people,” James said. “And can you imagine the buzz we’re getting with our tracks being released? Now, people are watching us more closely than ever to see what we do next.”
It made sense.
It was messed up, but it made sense from their evil standpoint.
“That doesn’t change the fact that we are still screwed by the contract we signed. We’re still screwed,” I explained.
“Maybe, but we aren’t going to be screwed in Los Angeles. Especially with you in the headspace that you are,” James said.
