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“Look,” Zakk began. “If the whole package had been seaweed wraps, mud baths and meditation, I’d have pitched the thing in the trash when we got it. But it’s private, it’s in the middle of nowhere, with a pool, guided cave exploration, dune buggies, sand surfing, fossil hunting, mineral springs, and a bunch of other stuff.”
The truth was, meditation and mud baths didn’t sound bad, neither did mineral springs and dune buggies, but…
“Aren’t we supposed to be getting ready for a tour with Wild Child?” Tripp asked, staring straight at Zakk because he already knew Winter’s stance on the whole thing.
Snorting, Zakk raised an eyebrow at him. “How are they supposed to tour with no bassist unless your brother wants to volunteer to fill in for his maybe baby mama.”
Sputtering, Winter looked like he was trapped between wanting to laugh and actually considering that particular possibility.
“I haven’t played bass in what, seven years?” he remarked, looking to Tripp for confirmation. He had to think about it a moment, trying to picture the last time Winter had performed with one in his hands.
“Sounds about right.”
“I mean, I could, even if I’m not the kid’s father,” Winter mused. “I’m a better option than the mess they’ve been auditioning, but I’d want to run it by Tish first, make sure it wouldn’t be weird for her if I did it. Would only be until she was ready to take her spot back.”
“Unless she didn’t, then what?” Tripp asked.
“Then I guess I’ve got a new band,” Winter replied with that nonchalant shrug of his that always pissed Tripp off. “I still want a month at the spa before anything else though.”
“Weren’t you the guy who was slamming around the house complaining about me wanting to go back on the road so soon?” Tripp snapped, unable to believe what he was hearing. “What was it you said, about wanting to live life, not just sing about it?”
“And weren’t you the one hating on Dez because he refused to help Saint’s Seduction when they were in a similar spot as Wild Child?”
“Whoa!” Zakk growled. “You hate him for not leaving my band for the band that cut him loose?”
“No,” Tripp insisted, trying to figure out how the whole thing had gotten twisted around on him. “Not quit Tattered Angel, just, he could have helped them on the studio album, covered some performances for them when you guys weren’t on the road. No one would know his name if it wasn’t for them, and those guys have really been struggling. Dez knows the music forward and backward, even improvised a few guitar solos because Payton never wrote that shit down.”
“And it’s because of them he never wanted to play with a band again,” Winter snarled, coming up out of his seat. The level of pissed off on his brother’s face was a sure sign Tripp didn’t know the whole story. The thing was, he wasn’t sure Winter did either, not from some of the conversations he’d had with their bassist, Phil.
“Whatever, you’ll think what you want, you always do.” Winter snarled. “Come to the spa, don’t come to the spa, I don’t think I give a shit anymore.”
“If that’s true, then why are you here?” Tripp asked.
Eyes narrowing, Winter shook his head at him before snatching his jacket off the back of the chair. “I’m beginning to wonder that myself.”
And with that, his brother stormed out of the door for the second time that week, leaving Tripp with Zakk watching him warily.
“That was a dick thing to say,” Zakk remarked, glaring down at him. “You didn’t see the look on his face when he got here. You didn’t watch him pace or listen to him badger the nurses. He was scared. We all were. You were spitting up blood like you’d swallowed a razor blade. You have no idea how horrifying that was to see.”
Okay, now that was bullshit. “Try being the one…. doing it.”
“I’ll take a pass, thanks, and I think you’d better avoid a repeat if you know what’s good for you”
“I’ll take that under advisement.”
“You do that. You really should come to the spa,” Zakk said as he stood to leave too. “Before the only one left to give a shit about you, is you.”
And with that, he was gone too, leaving Tripp to wonder when he would learn to stay out of his own way long enough to see if he could ever hold on to anything good in his life, or if every effort he made was only destined to leave him alone with his failures.
Chapter 7
The miles before us
“Okay, now for the last time, does everyone have everything they need to take with them packed and loaded in the RV?” James bellowed, drawing everyone’s attention his way.
A chorus of “all good,” went up from the mingled assembly of band members. Three from Tripp’s band and all four Tattered Angels. The only thing Zakk wasn’t particularly thrilled about was the two motorcycles, with their leather-clad riders, waiting for the procession to get underway. As far as he was concerned it was a step backwards for Dez to want to be on his Shadow rather than in the RV with the rest of them, and Winter on that big hog of his, in whatever messed up mindset he’d admitted to being in, was a disaster waiting to happen.
And yet.
