Page 53 of Beneath the Stain

“Nope,” Trav said in response to his question. He looked up from his laptop and gave Mackey a grin that was all teeth. “We assumedyou’dbe a good boy, McKay, and go on your own.”

“Which one of my stinking brothers told you McKay was my name? I want to kick him in the ’nads.”

“How come I didn’t know that?” Blake asked, surprised. “Man, I lived with you people for a fucking year. I bought your coke, I ate your shit—”

“You got on the party bus and you and my brother dideverybody’sdrugs,” Mackey snapped, unsettled again. “Man, why you gotta get mad at me? You and Kell hung out for a year. You had a grand ol’ time. Now we both gotta clean up our shit or that goes away. It’s a job like anything else, Blake. You don’t pull your weight, you get fired.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t see anyone threatening to fire you. Poor little Mackey Sanders—”

“He writes the songs, moron,” Trav said from behind his computer screen. He looked up. “And I think maybe whatever you two have against each other needs to get worked out in rehab. That’s why you’re going together.”

Mackey pouted and crossed his arms. “Did you bring my sunglasses?” he whined, obnoxious and not particularly caring. “My head feels like a giant split it like a melon with a mace!”

Trav laughed a little, because he got that shit, and Blake rolled his eyes.

“You couldn’t just say ‘headache,’ could you, Mackey?” Blake snapped, but it was an empty sally, and everyone in the limo knew it.

Trav handed him sunglasses—obviouslyTrav’ssunglasses—and Mackey sighed.

“Naw, Trav, I won’t take your shit from you so I can be a diva. Just—”

“Take them, Mackey. I’ll get more. Now before we get there, I need you guys to touch the screen here, and here, and here—”

They spent the next twenty minutes signing paperwork. Mackey was honestly surprised when the limo pulled up in front of the now familiar beautiful garden grounds with the giant flower bushes and the fountains and the building that looked like a retirement home for active seniors.

The limo stopped there, idling, and Mackey stared moodily outside while waiting for the driver to let him out.

“You’ll make it happen this time,” Trav said, but he sounded more hopeful than sure.

Mackey grimaced. “I only need to make it stick once, right?” he asked, trying to sound insouciant and breezy.

Trav’s gentle hand on his shoulder made him want to cry. “That’s right, Mackey. Only once.”

“Speak for yourself,” Blake said. “I plan to get my blood replaced like Keith Richards until I’m too old to go on stage.”

Mackey would have bitten his head off, but he sounded nervous too—and besides, it was funny.

“Yeah, just remember that having the blood of an eighteen-year-old girlinyou isn’t the same thing as being inside an eighteen-year-old girl,” Mackey returned, and he could tell by Blake’s reluctant snicker that it was the right thing to say. Well, good. As much as Blake got on Mackey’s nerves, Kell seemed to like him, and God, wouldn’t it be a pain in the ass to have to train up another lead guitarist. Mackey fought a shudder. No. No more new lead guitarists. Trav was right. He’d have to make his peace with Blake and make it stick, and this was the place to do it.

Mackey was reaching in to grab the suitcases when his phone buzzed. He set the cases down and leaned against the limo to answer while the driver got a porter from the rehab place.

The press says you got hurt. Kell says you’re going to rehab. I’m sorry.

Grant. Oh God. Mackey had gotten the phone the day after they’d signed, and sometime in the past year, Kell had passed Mackey’s number on. For the most part, Grant left him alone. In fact, this made three texts total.

Wish me well, McKay—I’m marriedhad been the first one. He’d gotten it the morning before his first one-night stand.

Her name is Katy, after McKay. Don’t hate me—I had to have a memory of youhad been the second, accompanied by a picture of his baby girl. Mackey had saved the picture, but he hadn’t replied.

But this one—this one he had to answer.

Don’t be. You’re not the dumbass with the pills.

Don’t let me off the hook that easy, McKay. I thought I was doing you a favor.

Oh God. Oh, Grant—don’t do this.

God save me from dumbasses doing me favors. I gotta go.