Beyond The Music (The Rock Gods Book 7) (36 page)

A pocket full of gold

is better than your sunshine.

Going down the dusty road

and straight for the moonshine.

I ain’t got time for bullshit.

That ship is sinking fast.

So, reach inside my pocket.

And grab hold of my big stash.

I’ve got a pocket full of gold,

but it won’t last forever.

Gotta find a way to make it.

Until the twelve of never.

Lincoln felt energized. His fingers moved over the fret board of his guitar and hit every single note with ease and precision. The countless hours of non-stop practice seemed to be paying off. Lincoln smiled to himself then looked over to where Aaron was standing at the shadowed edge of the stage. Yeah, I can do this, Lincoln thought. It’s like riding a bike.

Three songs into their set the light show began for their anthem,

“Thunder and Lightning.” Beams of light sliced through the darkened arena in a rapid-fire pattern, zigzagging all over the arena and reflecting off every surface. Lincoln hit the first bridge of the song and his fingers faltered and missed three notes in a row. The flashes of light were disorienting him and his head began to swim. Everything seemed to be out of level and the more he tried to adjust his position to stay upright, it only made his balance worse. He lost his place in the song at the same time he lost sight of the white safety tape on the floor. He reached to grab on to something but there was nothing there to grasp.

I can’t fucking see! Fuckkkkkk! I can’t see!

Lincoln staggered backward and bumped into an equipment crate on wheels. He stumbled over his own feet, but managed to keep himself upright as the crate rolled away from him. The flashes of light continued to fire off around him and Lincoln’s head felt like it might explode. He stopped playing. His bass guitar hung limp at his side and his fingers went to his eyes and pressed into the sockets. Something was horribly wrong and panic began to burn through him like poison pumping in his veins, then the sensation of falling embraced him like a warm blanket. The last thing he remembered was the sound of Aaron’s voice screaming.

“We need a medic! He’s having a seizure!”

And then everything inside Lincoln’s head went black and silent.

Lincoln woke up as the EMT’s were lifting him onto a gurney for transport. “Aaron!” Lincoln called as his hand reached out for him.

“I’m right here,” Aaron replied and firmly gripped Lincoln’s hand. “We gotta get you to the hospital, so hold on.”

Lincoln closed his eyes again. He was so tired, but Aaron’s hand patted his chest. “Stay with us,” Aaron said. Lincoln’s eyes opened to slits. He was in the back of an ambulance strapped to the gurney. He turned his head and saw Aaron talking to the EMT sitting opposite him. Lincoln stared at Aaron, trying to get him into focus, and his head hurt like a motherfucker. Lincoln tried to talk but the only sound that came out was a grunt. It still managed to get Aaron’s attention, though, and a moment later Lincoln’s face warmed from the smile Aaron gave to him.

“How are you?” Aaron asked.

“Shitty.”

Aaron chuckled. “That sounds like an honest answer.”

“My head hurts,” Lincoln mumbled. His hand lifted to touch it, but the EMT set Lincoln’s arm back at his side.

“You need stitches, babe,” Aaron said. “We’re having trouble getting the bleeding to stop.”

Lincoln’s eyes fell again and Aaron jiggled him. “No sleeping,” Aaron instructed. “You have to stay awake in case you have a concussion.”

“I’m tired,” Lincoln complained.

“I know, but you can rest later,” Aaron answered.

The hospital had a private exam room ready for Lincoln when they arrived at the emergency room at the Central Middlesex Hospital. He groaned when the bright overhead lights in the room stabbed him in the eyes. Nothing was in focus and even the voices he heard seemed muffled.

“What the fuck?” Lincoln shouted as he tried to sit up on the narrow bed.

“Babe, you need to stay still,” Aaron urged.

Lincoln reached out for Aaron and warm fingers laced with his, then a familiar face appeared beside Lincoln’s.

“You’re going to be fine,” Aaron assured him.

“What the hell happened?” Lincoln asked.

“The strobe lights caused you to seizure,” Aaron explained. “You hit your head when you fell. The doctor will be in soon to sew you up and they’re gonna want to check you for a concussion.”

“What about the show?” Lincoln asked.

“Ivory Tower went on early,” Aaron said. “They’re going to do a double set.”

“Shit. I fucked up,” Lincoln grumbled. “I lost my footing in the safe box.”

“No, babe. It was me,” Aaron said. “I should have let you wear the sunglasses. It might have protected your eyes a little better from the lights.”

A minute later, a doctor breezed into the room. He introduced himself as Dr. McCloud and shook Aaron’s and Lincoln’s hands. Aaron explained his connection to Lincoln and immediately began to rattle off a detailed list of medical issues regarding Lincoln. Somewhere in the middle of all this, Dagger, Ryan, Dante, and Ashton hurried into the small room.

“He has an optic neuritis in his left eye,” Aaron stated. “A recent diagnosis of multiple sclerosis led to his neurologist putting him on forty-four milliliters of Rebif, injected three times a week. All his other vitals have been normal.”

“What the fuck did you just say?” Dagger pointed his question directly at Aaron.

“I’m sorry, but we’ve got too many people in this room,” the doctor said. He pointed to Aaron. “You can stay. Everyone else, please wait outside.”

Doctor McCloud waited until everyone had cleared out of the room then began his exam on Lincoln. “How are you feeling, Mr. Stallworth?” the doctor asked.

“I’ve been better,” Lincoln answered and closed his eyes.

“I need you to keep your eyes open for me,” Dr. McCloud instructed

Lincoln’s eyes slowly opened and searched for Aaron. His gaze was pleading and Aaron answered it by stepping closer to hold Lincoln’s hand again.

“Are you okay with Aaron answering for you, Mr. Stallworth?” the doctor asked.

Lincoln nodded. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

The doctor glanced over at Aaron. “You said he has MS?”

“Yes, he was diagnosed about a month ago,” Aaron offered.

“Does he have a history of seizures?” Dr. McCloud asked.

“No seizures until today,” Aaron said. “And the seizure today was caused by a light show during his performance. The head injury happened when he fell to the floor from the seizure.”

“Did he lose consciousness?”

“Twice, but it was brief and I was able to bring him back quickly both times,” Aaron answered.

The doctor pulled a small pen light from the pocket of his lab coat and flashed it in front of Lincoln’s eyes. “Is that necessary?” Lincoln barked at the doctor and attempted to push the light away from his face.

“I’m afraid so, Mr. Stallworth.” Then the doctor turned to Aaron and said, “We’ll send him up for a CT scan, but I think he’s okay. I don’t see any obvious signs of concussion.”

Aaron watched the doctor finish with his exam. He tested Lincoln’s reflexes, and various other neurological tests before he finally patted Lincoln on the shoulder. “I’ll have a nurse call up to imaging and we’ll get you in for that CT scan. In the meantime, I’ll stitch up that gash on your forehead.” The doctor leaned out of the room for a moment and called for a nurse to assist him. A moment later, a nurse joined them in the room.

Aaron rubbed Lincoln’s arm. “I’m sure you’ve had stitches before, right?”

“Once or twice,” Lincoln recalled.

“Then this will be a walk in the park for you.” Aaron smiled affectionately, turned to watch the doctor get ready to do the sutures, and then looked back at Lincoln. “This will take a few minutes and after that they’ll be moving you up for the CT scan. Would you like me to go find Dagger and the guys and tell them what’s going on?”

“Fuck, that’s right,” Lincoln said in a hushed tone. “You told them I have MS.”

“I, ah, I’m so sorry about that, but I had no choice,” Aaron said. “The doctor was here and he needed to know your medical history before he did his exam. I was so focused on that I forgot the guys were also in the room. I’m so sorry.”

“It sucks, but they had to find out sooner or later.” Lincoln shrugged. “Might as well be now, I suppose. At least we don’t have to lie or hide anything anymore.”

“You’re not mad?” Aaron asked.

“I’m not thrilled about it, but it had to be done,” Lincoln said. “Don’t worry about it.” Lincoln rubbed his thumb on the back of Aaron’s hand. “Am I going to look like Frankenstein with these stitches?”

The doctor chuckled at Lincoln’s remark. “No, Mr. Stallworth, you won’t,” the doctor said. “I’m going to give you a lot of really tiny stitches, just like a plastic surgeon would give to you. And, being that the cut is almost at the hairline on your forehead, I doubt it will be noticeable at all with the stitches—or once they come out. I can’t guarantee you won’t be bruised though.”

“I’m okay with bruises,” Lincoln mumbled.

Aaron nodded in confirmation. “Yes, you’ll still be beautiful after this heals,” Aaron teased. “I’m more relieved you didn’t seriously hurt yourself when you fell. It could have been so much worse, but no more light shows like that while you’re on stage.”

“I can still perform?”

“I would say so,” Dr. McCloud added. “I might suggest you take a couple of days off, if that’s at all possible.”

Lincoln shook his head. “We’re performing again at Wembley tomorrow night,” he said.

“Maybe your guitar tech could stand in for you?” Aaron mentioned.

“I’d rather he didn’t,” Lincoln answered.

Aaron lightly stroked the side of Lincoln’s face. “Do you want me to go talk to the guys for you?”

Lincoln thought about his options before he spoke. “I think it makes sense if you tell them,” Lincoln finally said. “That way, if they have questions you can give them the medical perspective on it.”

“Yeah, okay,” Aaron said. “I’ll go do that while Dr. McCloud stitches up your head.” Aaron adjusted the sheets covering Lincoln on the exam table then bent forward to brush their lips together. “I’ll see you after the CT scan. Okay?”

Lincoln squeezed Aaron’s hand and nodded. “I’ll be here.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Aaron made it into the private waiting room security had put Dagger, Ryan, Dante, and Ashton. He stood before the closed door and drew in a deep breath before he stepped into the room.

Dagger was the first to jump out of his seat and in two long strides, he was in Aaron’s face. “You better start talking, Aaron!”

“What the hell happened?” Dante asked.

Aaron raised his hands and motioned for them to all settle down and sit. Then Aaron took a seat on the empty end of the couch. “Lincoln has given me permission to speak for him and tell you everything.”

“Good thing, because I was prepared to beat it out of you,” Dagger grumbled.

“I don’t believe this calls for punching,” Aaron replied.

“I was speaking metaphorically,” Dagger added.

“Tell us what’s going on with Lincoln,” Dante said.

Aaron ran a hand over his face. “About a month ago Lincoln was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. I think you’ve all been witness to some of his symptoms over the last year or so and he’s done an enormous job of hiding the worst of it from you.” Aaron made eye contact with everyone and then continued. “A few weeks ago, he lost part of the vision in his left eye. Thankfully, Spumoni was there when Lincoln was first aware of his sight loss and he was the one that took Lincoln to the ER.”

“Spumoni knew about this the whole time?” Dagger asked.

“Yes, he is the only one, other than myself, that knew the full extent of what Lincoln was dealing with on a daily basis and he was sworn to secrecy, so don’t be mad at Spumoni.”

“Oh, my god.” Dagger leaned forward and held his head. “How could we not know this was going on? I mean, I tried to help him. I asked several times what was going on, but he always said he was all right. I should have pushed more to get him to talk.”