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One of them even asks Reed to marry him. Another suggests they would make beautiful babies together.
Real subtle, ladies.
Reed waves to the crowd and of course, cue more screaming. He’s dressed in tight black jeans and a white button-down shirt that’s open to the middle of his chest. The belt around his waist is covered in skulls, and his hair is slicked back into a tight ponytail. I don’t know where the hell that look came from. I’ve never seen him wear his hair tied back like that before. He normally wears it down so it hangs in his face.
Everything’s changing.
Quinn takes the stage right after Reed does, and the fans go wild, jumping up and down and banging on the glass to the point that it looks like it’s about to shatter. He smiles shyly, giving them a small wave. Typical Quinn.
Jaxon, dressed in his usual head to toe black is already sitting behind his kit, counting the guys in with his sticks which he’s holding up in the air above his head.
And then, I’m sorry, but what the fuck? What theactualfuck? Some dude I’ve never seen before in my life steps up onto the stage beside Quinn with a bass guitar in his hands.
A fuckingbass.
A knot twists and tightens in my chest, and I suck back a sharp breath when he waves to the crowd as if it’s his God-given right. I can’t watch any more. I’m done with this shit.
Icy cold eyes turn on Dr. Copeland, well below sub-zero would be my guess, and to his credit, the guy actually looks a little sorry for me. “Are you alright?”
“Can I please go back to my room?”
“Of course.”
“And yeah, you know what, Doc? Sure, let’s get the guys in here for a visit. That sounds really good. Because there’s a few things I’d like to get off my chest.”
Sienna
Day 29
Kael paces back and forth in front of me. He’s been doing this for a good half hour or more now, and I swear he’s wearing a path in the fancy rug, leaving a faded trail between the door and the couch, only stopping occasionally to slam his fist down hard on the coffee table.
I jump. Every time.
He’s been rambling on about… and I quote,“the mother-fucker who thinks he’s taking my place,”and there was a whole list of other rather crude expletives that he used to describe the poor sap who, from what I can gather, is filling in for Kael while he’s here in rehab, but I wouldn’t be game to repeat most of them in public.
I get that Kael’s upset. I really do. Why wouldn’t he be? But, still. “You need to calm down, Kael. It’s notthatbig of a deal.”
This stops him in his tracks. Stops him cold.
Uh-oh.
He spins around sharply on the balls of his feet, and I instantly regret my choice of words when his eyes meet mine.Oops.It’s like the connection between my brain and my mouth was severed somewhere along the way, and now I’m being met with eyes so full of rage it’s like looking at the dark side of the moon.
“What’d you just say?” he asks.
I study his fierce features, the way his lips are contorted into a hard line, thinking how much it sucks to be on the pointy end of his temper but also so happy to witness him showing some real emotion for a change.
“I just mean, if you think about it rationally, and calmly, you’ll see that they can’t just replace you on a permanent basis… legally speaking.”
He hesitates for a beat, then says, “Go on.”
“I’m just saying that once you get out of here, it’s up to you what you do with your life. You can stay clean and sober, cut ties with everyone from your past who has enabled your addictions—dealers, hookers, bookmakers—you get where I’m going with this?”
I pause, stare back at him, but I get nothing in response other than a blank expression, so I forge on despite the possible repercussions.
“Or, you can go back to your old self-destructive ways and risk losing everything you’ve worked so hard for. They can’t just kick you out of the band without some sort of legal consequences. You have a contract, yes?”
Another pause, waiting for him to crack. But he doesn’t. He just stands there staring at me, so I figure it’s time to pull out the big guns. It’s now or never.
