Treat Me (One Night with Sole Regret #8) (23 page)

He fished the device out of his pocket and viewed the message from Gabe. Something about Adam writing lyrics. Shade was too flustered to make out the details of the entire note. He couldn’t concentrate on words with all the activity going on around him.

“I need to go get ready for the show,” he said. He’d had his fill of fan worship and if Adam really was writing lyrics, he wanted to see it with his own eyes. “I hope you enjoy yourselves tonight.”

After a few last handshakes and hugs, he slipped back into the limo and the crowd parted to let the car creep forward at a snail’s pace.

“I thought they were going to kill you,” the driver said, glancing anxiously at the fans visible through the windows.

“They love me,” Shade said, with a smile. “Why would they kill me?”

“Not intentionally.” The driver jumped when an eager fan slapped his palms against the hood of the car with a loud bang. People continued to walk beside the car all the way to the barrier fence that had been erected around the tour buses and equipment trucks. After verifying that it was Shade in the car, security let the limo through, but kept the crowd at bay.

“I love you, Shade!” a woman screamed from the crowd as he stepped from the car in the fan-free area behind the venue.

He waved to the people pushing against the barrier fence before trotting up the bus steps. He strode up the aisle and paused at the dining room table. Adam was sitting there with his sketchbook open and he was writing. Not drawing spiders. Not creating the fanciest “the” to ever grace a page. Lyrics were pouring from the tip of his pencil like he had no conscious control over the process. Shade’s heart soared. They were going to be okay. With Adam’s creativity on the loose, Sole Regret’s success was guaranteed.

A long lean body blocked Shade’s path, and he looked up into Gabe’s grinning face.

“Is he writing?” Shade whispered, not wanting to disturb Adam.

Gabe nodded. “It’s as if he can’t stop. He also drew this wicked piece of artwork that we have to use for our next album cover. The dude has amazing talent.”

Adam did have amazing talent. Shade could never do what he did. But he could try to keep Adam off drugs and scrape him off rock bottom every time he found himself there.

Shade pushed Gabe aside and slid into the empty booth across the table from Adam and waited for the guitarist to come up for air. Shade didn’t want to be responsible for interrupting the man’s flow of ideas, but he did want to witness what he’d feared he’d never experience again.

As soon as Shade settled into the seat, Adam glanced up and met his eyes.

“It’s back?” Shade asked breathlessly and nodded, as if the motion would make it true.

“Yeah,” Adam said, though the haunted look in his eyes didn’t make him seem too happy about his breakthrough. “I guess it is.”

“Any guitar music yet?” Shade asked. He couldn’t wait any longer; he pulled the sketch pad toward himself. “Lats oGodbey” was his first impression of the title, but after a second of concentration, he decided that “Last Goodbye” made more sense. He’d ask Adam to read the lines to him later and blame the man’s handwriting for his inability to make sense of the written words. The trick had worked before; he had confidence that it would work again. “I’m ready to harmonize.”

“And I’m ready to bang out a new tempo,” Gabe said as he leaned his hip against the back of the bench behind Adam and made drumming motions with both arms. His eyes were still blackened from his run-in with that MMA fighter, but he no longer looked like roadkill. He seemed almost as enthusiastic about Adam’s sudden spawning of lyrics as Shade felt about it.

“And I’m ready to bang,” Owen said from the back of the bus.

Nothing new there.

Shade flipped through Adam’s notebook, excited to find several pages of scrawled words. His stomach turned when he came across a drawing of Melanie’s friend Nikki, and rage pulsed through his skull. It wasn’t the work that upset him. The details of the drawing were remarkable and if it had been of a woman he didn’t know, he would have appreciated the meticulous care Adam had taken in his sketch. The subject matter, on the other hand . . . Shade couldn’t tolerate that. Half of Nikki’s beautiful face and flawless body was torn and decayed—her guts were spilling out, bits of muscle and lengths of bone showing through the gaps in her flesh. The sketchbook dropped from his suddenly numb fingers.

“What in the hell did you do to Nikki?” he yelled. Hadn’t the woman been through enough? If she ever saw this drawing of herself, it would destroy her already delicate psyche.

“Isn’t that awesome?” Gabe said. “That’s the sketch I was talking about. It would make a fantastic album cover.”

“It’s sick.” But maybe it would make a fantastic album cover. If the woman depicted weren’t easily recognizable as someone they all knew, he’d have thought the drawing was badass. “How could you draw a living person all torn apart like that?”

“She
is
all torn apart like that.” Adam pulled the sketch pad toward himself and began writing a new song on a blank page. “You’re just too blind to see it.”

Had something else happened to the poor woman? And why hadn’t anyone told him? “What do you mean she’s all torn up like that?” he yelled, not sure why he was so upset. He wasn’t interested in Nikki, but he
had
slept with her. He didn’t want anything bad to happen to her. Anything
else
bad to happen to her, he corrected.

Gabe grabbed Shade’s shoulder. “He doesn’t mean literally.”

Thank God.

As the tension on the bus diminished, Adam’s creative spark ignited into an inferno. Everything fed the fire within him. He was soon using every thread of conversation—even ridiculous ones—as inspiration for additional songs.

It felt so good to have the band all together, creating and joking around. Shade had forgotten what it was like to relax and enjoy the guys’ company. He hadn’t realized how tense things had become between them until that tension eased. He recognized that it hadn’t been his insistence that had smoothed things over. It was Adam’s palpable relief to be creating again.

Maybe Adam and the rest of the band had been as worried about their creative future as Shade had been. Maybe Shade didn’t give the guys enough credit. He knew Adam didn’t work best under pressure, but what did they expect? That Shade would take the back seat and wait this shit out? He was incapable of relinquishing control over the band’s success. They all had to know that about him by now.

Shade wasn’t sure what had unleashed Adam’s creativity, but whatever it had been, he was grateful it had stirred Adam’s soul. He couldn’t help but wonder if Adam had returned to his heroin habit, but Adam’s pupils weren’t constricted, his skin wasn’t flushed, and he hadn’t sniffed his nose or scratched at his skin once. Shade had been around junkie-Adam enough to know what to look for. Adam wasn’t high. At least not on heroin.

The entire band was in a good mood when Sally eventually came to get them for the show. Shade couldn’t help but notice there were no longer any women on tour, which in his current state of mind proved that women were more trouble than they were worth. He was through with romantic relationships. Gabe’s chick seemed more interested in keeping her friend in one piece than being with him; Melanie had abandoned Gabe to return home with Nikki a couple of hours ago. Shade wasn’t sure what had happened to Adam’s girlfriend. They’d been together the last he knew, but maybe her unexplained absence was why he was spewing dark hatred in the form of lyrics. And Owen wasn’t messing with his iPad, buying useless tokens for the woman who’d supposedly stolen his heart. Kellen hadn’t returned from his weekend with his pretty composer, and Owen seemed much more interested in where his friend was than what his maybe-girlfriend was up to. Was it wrong of Shade to feel connected to these guys because they were all romantically miserable at the moment?

“You know, if it were me,” Owen said to Gabe as they headed down a long corridor toward the backstage area, “I’d get them both in bed and let my dick sort that shit out.”

Shade chuckled. Owen’s answer to everything. His dick.

“The problem with that,” Gabe said, “is that Nikki would be more interested in Melanie’s pussy than my dick.”

Owen slapped him on the back. “That’s not a problem in my book.”

“Mine either,” Shade said with a grin.

“So Melanie and Nikki are lovers?” Adam asked, his dark brow knitted with confusion.

Gabe shook his head. “Melanie isn’t interested in Nikki that way, but Nikki is in love with her. Or she thinks she is. Maybe she’s just confused.”

“She didn’t seem confused when she and I invited a waitress to our room last weekend for a little girl-on-girl action,” Shade said. “Nikki went straight for the pussy, no hesitation. Had that chick coming in twenty seconds flat.”

Gabe scowled at him. “Yeah, thanks. That does not make me feel any better.”

Shade shrugged. “It made me feel pretty good.”

“They live together now,” Gabe said, wiping a hand over his lean jaw. He really seemed to be torn up about this. Didn’t he realize this was the opportunity of a lifetime? “Nikki moved into Melanie’s place this week.”

“I’m sure Melanie will keep her legs closed even when your dick is a thousand miles away,” Adam said.

“Nikki will wear her down eventually,” Shade teased. “That wicked tongue of hers is very persistent.”

Gabe shoved him in the shoulder. “Not funny.”

“Still not seeing the problem,” Owen said, shaking his head.

When they reached the backstage area, Adam and Owen settled their guitars in place. Adam immediately began fingering a new rift that made Shade’s heart thud with excitement. The man’s talent was astounding. He seemed to pull amazing music out of nowhere. Or maybe it was housed in his soul.

Kellen rushed backstage and reached for his guitar, but paused when he noticed the band gazing worshipfully at the lead guitarist.

“Nice,” Owen said, mimicking Adam’s string of notes on his bass guitar.

“Yeah, I like that,” Kellen said as he listened to them play. “I assume your writer’s block is gone.” He grinned at his fellow guitarist.

“Yep.”

“Well, keep it up.” Kellen whacked Adam on the back. “Sounds great.”

Kellen then greeted Owen, who began talking a mile a minute. Adam had quit playing his new riff to answer his phone, so Shade turned to Gabe.

“You’re not really worried that Melanie is going to dump you for Nikki, are you?” Shade asked.

“Not much I can do about it if she does. So how did Tina take the news about you and Amanda?”

Shade hadn’t told Gabe anything about the situation with Tina or Amanda, so how had he known to even ask? Now was not the time to discuss this. They had to be onstage in a few minutes and focusing on Tina
or
Amanda was sure to put him in a foul mood again.

“Not sure what you’re talking about,” Shade said with a shrug.

“So Tina just hit you in the head for fun? She still doesn’t know?”

“She knows,” Shade admitted, “but I broke it off with Amanda.” He lied to save his ego further bruising. “I got what I wanted from her. Didn’t seem smart to piss off Tina for a mediocre piece of ass.”

Even referring to Amanda that way ate at him, but Gabe wouldn’t harass him about it if he thought the breakup was Shade’s idea.

“You don’t mope like a teenage girl when you dump a mediocre piece of ass,” Gabe observed before heading up the steps to find his place behind the drum kit.

Perceptive jerk, Shade thought darkly.

He turned to see if the rest of the band was ready to take the stage. Owen and Kellen were still chatting as if they hadn’t seen each other in years, but Adam had disappeared.

“Where’s Adam?” Shade asked the other two guitarists.

Owen shrugged. “No idea.”

Shade’s gaze fell on a familiar guitar sitting on its stand next to the stage. “He left his guitar.”

“Maybe he had to go to the bathroom,” Kellen suggested. “Ever try to take a piss with a guitar strapped on?”

“Can’t say that I have,” Shade said, watching the wide double doors behind the stage for Adam’s reappearance.

Several minutes ticked by with no sign of the lead guitarist. Shade grabbed the arm of a nearby roadie who was standing there with his arms crossed waiting for the performance to begin. “Will you run to the dressing room and tell Adam we’re waiting for him? He’s probably in the bathroom.” He sent a second roadie to the bus, just in case he’d gone there instead.

A few minutes later, Gabe came down from the stage with drumsticks in hand. “What’s the hold up?”

“Adam’s missing,” Shade said.

“Missing?”

“Yeah, he was just here.” Shade turned to see if the incredible vanishing guitarist had returned in the few seconds he’d been distracted. Still no sign of him.

Shade didn’t truly begin to worry until the two roadies returned without Adam in tow.

“He wasn’t in the bathroom or the dressing room.”

“Not on the bus either,” the other roadie reported. “I found his earpiece on the ground behind the bus. At least I think it’s his.”

The guy dropped the earpiece into Shade’s palm. It was probably Adam’s, but he couldn’t be sure. “Was his motorcycle still there?”

“I didn’t see one.”

“Fuck!” Shade yelled. “Did he say anything to any of you?” As Shade’s glare landed on the members of his band, each shook his head in turn. “Fuck! What in the hell is he thinking?” The problem was Adam never thought things through. He was impulsive. Reactionary. An inconsiderate, self-absorbed jackass. Why had Shade let himself hope that Adam had changed?

“Maybe there’s an emergency,” Owen said.

“Even if there is, he could have taken a few seconds to tell someone. Fuck! I’m going after him.”

“Do you know where he went?” Gabe asked.

Shade pulled his cellphone out of his pocket and pressed the icon for Adam’s tracking app. He was already miles away heading west, but within seconds he moved out of range and the little orange dot that indicated his position blipped out of existence.

“Fuck!” Shade said again. “He’s headed west.”

“What’s west?” Kellen asked.

“Texas. Madison. His fucking heroin dealer. How the hell should I know?”

“Calm down,” Owen advised. “We’ll figure something out.”

Shade wasn’t going to calm down. How could Adam leave just minutes before they were set to perform? What could possibly be that important? Nothing, as far as Shade was concerned. Granted, if something happened to Julie—God forbid—and he had to rush to her side, he would have walked out on a show, but he would have fucking told someone first.

“I’ll try calling him,” Kellen said rationally. “Maybe he’ll answer.”

While Kellen attempted to get Adam on the phone, Sally rushed toward Shade, almost colliding with him as her high heels skidded on the slippery concrete. She grabbed his arms to steady herself before looking up at him with wide eyes. “What’s going on?” she demanded. “Why aren’t you on stage?”

“Adam isn’t here. We can’t perform without our lead guitarist, can we?”

“I’m worried,” Owen said, his eyes on Kellen as he shook his head to let them know Adam wasn’t answering his phone. “He wouldn’t just run off like that unless it was a life or death situation.”

“
Yes
, he would,” Shade said. “I was the one who dealt with him when he was at his worst. You all pretended everything was just fine while I was forced to get him lucid enough to perform. It was only a year ago. Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten.”

“He’s changed, Jacob,” Gabe said, clutching the back of his neck with one hand as he stared at the floor.

“He has?” Shade shook his head in disagreement. “Sorry, but I don’t see it.”

Still beyond pissed, Shade stomped up the side steps and crossed the stage. The waiting crowd cheered when they recognized him. He took the mic out its stand and approached the audience, taking a moment to bask in the knowledge that they loved him almost as much as he needed them.

“Good evening, New Orleans. You look ready to rock!” When the fans cheered, his heart thudded with regret. He wouldn’t get the chance to perform for this amazing crowd. He’d been so looking forward to it. “Unfortunately, our performance is not going to happen tonight,” he said, his thoughts not matching his words
. Fucking Adam let us all down again.
A roar of disapproval circulated through the arena. “Our lead guitarist, Adam Taylor, was called away on an emergency.”
And didn’t bother to tell anyone. I will never forgive the asshole for forcing me to disappoint all these fans.
But as front man, he was expected to be the one who delivered such news, and he didn’t shirk his responsibilities no matter how distasteful. Fucking Adam. “So we have to cancel the show.”

A groan of disappointment reverberated through the stadium.

“I’m not sure if they’ll issue refunds or reschedule the performance, but we’ll square you away. I promise.”

Grumbling, the crowd started to disperse.

“Hey! Hey, Shade!” The call came from some young guy among the group still hanging around the barrier fence directly in front of the stage. “I play lead guitar and know all your songs by heart. I could take Adam’s place tonight.”

It was as if Shade’s guardian angel had fallen into the body of a skinny teenager in a black beanie hat.

Shade crouched down on the stage in front of him and stared into the kid’s dark eyes. Long, jet-black bangs were smashed down to obscure those eyes, but the sincerity Shade read in his direct gaze gave him hope. “Are you sure?”

The kid nodded, oozing the kind of self-confidence of someone who was telling the truth or was
completely
delusional. “I’ll prove it. Hand me a guitar.”

“Wait!” Shade called to the retreating crowd. “We might have a solution. Can you give us a few minutes to see if the show can go on after all?”

Innumerable fans were probably already too pissed off to return, but the majority of them stopped their retreat to see what was in store for them.

Shade instructed security to let the young guitarist into the backstage area. His bandmates looked at him with narrowed eyes.

“Did you get a hold of Adam?” Shade asked Kellen, giving his longtime frenemy one last chance to not disappoint him.

Kellen frowned and shook his head.

“Okay,” Shade said, nudging the kid forward. “This guy says he knows all our songs by heart and can take Adam’s place onstage tonight.”

None of his bandmates looked convinced, but they did look intrigued by the possible solution to their shitty situation.

“So I say we give him a chance to prove himself,” Shade said. “What’s your name?”

“Wes.”

“Give Adam’s guitar to Wes,” Shade said to Adam’s technician. “Let’s see what he’s got.”

They put the kid through his paces. Riffs. Solos. Wes wasn’t as skilled as Adam—no one was as skilled as Adam—but the talented kid would do in a bind.

“You don’t get stage fright, do you?” Shade asked.

“I don’t think so,” Wes said uncertainly.

Well, it wasn’t as if they had other options banging down their door.

“Are we all onboard with this idea?” Shade asked everyone who’d congregated to watch the spectacle. Bandmates, crew, and manager all nodded their approval.

“All right, kid, here’s your chance to be a rock star for a night,” Shade said. “Don’t blow it.”

Wes beamed at him and shook the devil horns he’d formed on one hand.

Shade returned to the stage and smiled down at the anxiously waiting and restless crowd.

“Well, he’s no Adam Taylor, but he’s going to do his best to pretend. Tonight we have Wes on lead guitar.”

Wes jogged across the stage to stand at Shade’s side and lifted both hands in the air triumphantly. Some of the audience members cheered, but most just stared up at them crossly.

Shade knew how to work a crowd. Undaunted, he’d have them all excited about this idea in no time.

“How many of you have dreamed of being a rock star?” he called to the crowd. “Where are my aspiring vocalists?” He scowled at the pitiful response he received. “For a bunch of future rock singers, you aren’t very loud,” he complained. That evoked the response he wanted from them. “Okay, where are my rock stars who like to bang?” He placed a hand on his forehead as if shading his eyes so he could see all the wannabe drummers in the crowd. The audience exploded with cheers, and he noticed that some of the fans who had left earlier were filtering back in through the exit doors. “Force, get out here. Seems over half the audience wants to be like you.”

Gabe jogged across the stage, waving at the crowd as he found a microphone. “I think they misunderstood your question,” he said. “They don’t want to waste their time on drums. They just want to bang.”

Whistles of appreciation, whoops of delight, and loud catcalls filled the stadium.

“Anyone like to do it low and slow?” Shade asked. “Who out there always dreamed of being a famous bass player?”

Even though lots of people cheered, Shade had to tease Owen. “Anyone? No one wants to be Tags when they grow up?”

Owen entered the stage, which elicited more screams of excitement. He found a microphone. “Bassists never get any love.”

“I love you, Tags!” several women yelled.

“So I guess the rest of you play air guitar in your underwear and dream of soloing in the spotlight,” Shade said.

At least half the audience began playing air guitar. A few moments later, Kellen entered the stage and accompanied them on his real guitar. After several measures, Wes found the courage to join in. The crowd loved it.

“Now Wes here has the opportunity to do what most people only dream of doing—he gets to be a rock star for a night. So show him some love!” Shade shouted over the wailing guitars. Now that he had the crowd amped up and behind Wes, the kid had better not fuck this up.

Shade wrapped an arm around Wes’s shoulders and showed him a paper taped to the floor. “This is the set list,” he told him. “If there are any songs on there you don’t know, just tell us; we’ll work around it.”

Wes’s eyes scanned the list, and then he looked at Shade. “I know them all. Hey, is Adam okay?”

Shade wasn’t sure why, but Wes’s concern for Adam sent a spike of rage through him. “I’m sure he’s fucking peachy,” he said before dropping his arm and addressing the crowd. “It’s time to get darker.”

Usually Owen entered the stage first, extending the opening bass line of “Darker” by several measures to build up the song and the crowd’s anticipation, but as the show was already off to an unusual start, the entire band started the song on Jacob’s signal. Wes watched his fingers, working so hard at getting the notes right that he didn’t seem to notice the crowd cheering him on. Kellen and Owen tried to coax him into enjoying himself, but their antics made him stumble over a riff, so they left him alone and worked extra hard to engage the crowd themselves.

When the song ended with one final reverberating wail of the lead guitar, Wes lifted his head and looked at Shade for approval.

“Not bad, Wes. Not bad at all. With a little more practice you could fill Adam Taylor’s shoes.” And Shade wasn’t just saying that. He was more than ready to find someone to take the undependable lead guitarist’s spot. And the longer he watched Wes—sounding almost like Adam in his first attempt—the more he thought a new guitarist would be the best solution for the band. Unfortunately, if they replaced Adam, they’d lose his songwriting skills. But if the only way he could compose was when his life was falling apart and he was dragging the rest of them down with him, Sole Regret was better off relying on those who wrote songs for a living. They could easily pay professionals to write their songs. So why not?

They played through their entire set list, and Shade could feel the uneasiness from the rest of the band—especially Owen. The guy was loyal to a fault. He probably felt guilty for sharing the stage with Wes instead of Adam. But Shade was experiencing something else entirely. Instead of trying to
fix
Adam—and what a monumental task that was—they could find someone who wasn’t broken to replace him. Shade just had to get the other guys to see things his way. He refused to put up with Adam’s bullshit any longer. He’d crossed the line one too many times.

When the concert was over, Shade took a sweat-drenched Wes aside and thanked him for his assistance. He made sure Sally took down his contact information. They could probably do better than a kid long on talent but short on experience, but they could definitely do a lot worse. Shade definitely wanted Wes to have a shot at being their new guitarist, but he also wanted to keep his options open, so he didn’t reveal his thoughts to Wes. It
was
time to explain his plan to the band, however. They were rational men; they’d see it his way. He was sure of it.