Page 32 of A Way Out (Rock Star #2)

T ravis Clutcher had no problem admitting that the rock ’n roll lifestyle was fucking killer. He loved it. He never wanted to leave it.

Again.

Good thing he’d learned from his past mistakes so he’d never have to.

After he woke up on his back in a giant bed in a posh hotel room in New York City on New Year’s Eve, he took his time getting his day started. Because he could.

They had a show tonight; they were ringing in the new year with 20,000 of their biggest fans at Madison Square Garden, which was about the most perfect way to celebrate New Year’s Eve.

Yeah, his life was pretty much fucking perfect these days.

For some reason, while he lay there basking in all that perfection, memories from seven years ago crept into the forefront of his mind. Well before he met his current bandmates. When he’d been the drummer for a band called Dog Daze.

They’d been on their way up, too. But then he’d gone and screwed it up. He and Suzie Q.

She was a guitarist, he was a drummer, and they’d both been looking to join the rock ’n roll scene. Find a band, make it big. Live the dream.

They met at a bar in LA. Hooked up. Began hooking up on the regular. Played together in a few bands.

Even back then she’d been popping pills, but on the surface, it looked like she had it under control. And she was a great guitarist, so it was easy to overlook a habit that wasn’t yet destructive.

Frustrated with readymade bands that weren’t good enough to make it out of those dive clubs in the seedier part of town, Travis and Suzie decided to form their own band, hand select the other members. Do it their way.

The only time he ever popped pills with her, they’d come up with the not-at-all-brilliant idea they should get married.

Since they were in Vegas at the time, they’d been able to walk right into a cheesy ass chapel and do the deed. The whole process had taken less than an hour.

Even stoned, he’d been aware that he didn’t love her, so what the fuck were they doing getting married?

It was a question he still asked himself to this day.

Especially because, even though they weren’t in love, he’d assumed they’d treat the marriage like they were partners.

Hell, she hadn’t even treated the band with the respect it deserved, so why would he have believed she’d honor their wedding vows?

As soon as their band became popular and started playing the summer festival circuit, the cheating began.

She, not he.

Unsurprisingly, their constant squabbles—because, yeah, he was dumb enough to take her back after he caught her red-handed—took a toll on the band. Things started getting sloppy. Missed practices, messed up songs when they were on stage.

The best thing he ever did was divorce Suzie. The second best and yet also worst thing he ever did was walk away from that band. Suzie Q was a trainwreck happening in real time for all their fans to watch, but when he quit the band, he quit the industry for a few years there.

And he’d missed it desperately.

Now he was with a new band, and so far, they were all cohesive, all got along. Yeah, Parker, the bassist, and Lacey, their lead singer, were a thing, but they weren’t toxic like he and Suzie Q had been.

Like Travis figured he’d be with anyone.

Which was why he didn’t do relationships. He also didn’t do groupies because, ugh, he’d snagged himself a stalker last summer, and if he never had to repeat that experience again, it would be too soon.

Unfortunately, that meant he didn’t get laid very often, but that was okay. He put all his blood, sweat, and tears into drumming. That was all he needed.

Like he said, his life was fucking perfect right now.

His phone pinged, and Travis snagged it off the bedside table. A text from Parker.

Going jogging. Want to join me?

Travis used to be a strictly weightlifting in the gym kind of guy, but after befriending Parker, who went jogging every damn day, he’d picked up the habit himself. He wasn’t as diehard as Parker, but he couldn’t deny the way he felt during and after a solid pavement pounding.

Still, he fired off a snarky reply.

We’re in NYC in December. It’s fucking cold.

Travis had been born and raised in Texas, and while he had zero desire to ever move back home, he doubted he could be persuaded to move someplace where it was below sixty degrees for half the year.

He’d much rather sweat his ass off jogging in ninety degree weather than feel his lungs burn from the inside as he sucked in below-freezing air.

Parker’s reply was quick.

It’s forty degrees outside. Don’t be a pussy.

Travis grinned. He and Parker busted each other’s chops all the time, all in the name of fun.

When they had first formed the band, though, he’d been pretty pissed off at his now-probable best friend.

Parker and Lacey had been sleeping together and hadn’t told anyone else in the band.

It broke Travis’s cardinal rule. And he’d damn near left the band before they even got started.

Fine , he tapped out. I’ll go. Maybe I’ll meet some actual pussy while we’re out.

Parker replied with an eye roll emoji.

Travis wasn’t really that crude, and Parker knew it. But he had to admit, it would be nice to find a hookup for after the concert. His cock buried to the hilt inside a willing woman who understood this was only a one-time thing would be the perfect end to what had basically been a perfect year.

He admitted as much to his friend while they were jogging through Central Park.

“I’m glad I’m not single,” Parker said between puffs of frigid air.

For the record, it was colder than forty out here.

If Travis had taken the time to actually look at a weather app before heading out, he’d not have joined his buddy.

But now that he was here, he could admit that the brisk air woke him up and got those endorphins charging probably even better than the hot, dry air he dealt with when they jogged in LA, which was currently home base for the various band members.

“I’m glad I am single,” Travis shot back. “Sure, you and Lacey make love look vaguely interesting, but you’re an anomaly.”

A frosty cloud burst from his mouth as Parker laughed. “What about Oz and Maria?”

“Maria’s not in the band, so it’s not quite as bad, although now that she’s our PR guru, it does make me nervous.

Think about her ex and his threat to take away her kid.

” It had all worked out in the end, but for a minute there, Oz had thought Maria was going to leave him and go back to her old life.

After Travis and Suzie split, he’d kept tabs on her through social media, mostly because he was curious as to whether the band would be able to continue their success without him.

They should have been fine. They were a talented group of musicians, and they had been big enough to attract a solid drummer to replace him.

But Suzie continued her downward spiral, her addictions only getting worse and worse, to the point where Travis had quit following because he’d been afraid the next headline would be announcing her death via overdose.

“Maria and Oz can overcome any damn thing,” Parker said as their running shoes beat a steady rhythm through Central Park.

“And her ex has settled down now. Hell, Oz dropped Riley off for her last visit because Maria had a meeting she couldn’t get out of with Silver Lining.

He said Vic was totally chill. Even invited Oz to share a beer with him. ”

Thank fuck Travis had never knocked up Suzie. What a mess that would have been, especially given her inability to stay away from substances that were bad for her.

“I know you were burned, man,” Parker said, “but relationships aren’t all bad. Look at it this way: you can’t do any worse.”

Travis snorted, the cold seeping up his nose and damn near freezing his brain for a minute. Fuck, he hated winter. “You’re right,” he agreed. “I can’t do any worse, so long as I stick to one-night stands.”

Whether he liked her relationship with Oz was beside the point; Maria was a fucking fantastic PR person.

She’d grown their success so fast in the last six months that Travis couldn’t help but be impressed.

He just hoped like hell she and Oz stayed together, because he didn’t think there was a better publicist out there.

Parker shook his head. “That’s what you said before that chick started stalking you last summer.”

“Yeah, well, I only hook up with women who have no clue who I am.”

“You’re the drummer for one of the fastest chart-climbing rock bands in the world. That’s got to be a pretty small number.”

That was true. Which sucked. But it was better than the alternative.

Someone shouted his name, and Travis glanced behind him. Oh shit. They were being followed by a cluster of fans decked out in Demigoddess Revival swag.

“Very small number,” Parker reiterated and put on a burst of speed. Travis followed his lead toward their hotel.

An hour later, Travis was showered and ready. He wasn’t dressed for the concert—not in a pair of slacks and button-down shirt under a cable-knit sweater. First of all, he’d sweat his balls off in this getup—if their fans didn’t laugh him off the stage.

Besides, they didn’t have to be at Madison Square Garden for another four hours.

But Travis was ready to go out in public without being recognized. He added a navy blue fisherman’s cap and hit the streets of New York.

While he wouldn’t want to live in this city, he certainly appreciated all it had to offer to tourists such as himself.

The food. The people watching. The anonymity.

Hell, he probably could go out without a disguise; if he hung out in the right places, there was bound to be some more famous movie star out and about who would overshadow him in an instant.

The first thing Travis did was head over to Brooklyn for some kickass soul food. LA had a lot going for it in the food department, but he had never found a soul food restaurant that could stand up to the one he’d discovered in this borough.