Page 37 of Beyond the Stix

“Danny,” the singer corrects.

“Danny, right. Ron says that the tour can’t be changed, and you will follow through to the end, no matter what happens.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Connor grates out. “No matter what happens.”

“Ron means exactly that,” Danny weighs in with resigned sigh. “He knows us all too well. We can’t change the schedule to stay and help him with chemo or whatever else he needs.”

The dour look on the singer’s face shifts to one of dejection. Tobias walks to his lover and envelopes Danny in his arms. “He’s going to be alright.”

I know that’s not true, but I keep my mouth shut.

Connor looks at me, before turning away and grabbing a water bottle from the fridge. “Then we don’t have a choice.” And he gulps the entire contents down.

After a long silent moment, Callum chimes in. “Let’s finish this, then.”

“I have one more thing.” Dante turns from the band members to us. “You need to remain here in the waiting area. I don’t want any distraction from any of you.” They jab the air with their long, red, pointed fingernail.

“That’s not happening,” Tobias grits out. “We are their protection.”

“What are you protecting them from?” Dante tilts their chin up, folds their arms across their chest and glares intently at our lead.

Damn. Dante and Ronarerelated.

But Dante’s question has merit. Why are we here? It’s not like any of the band has a stalker like how Danny did last year. And there haven’t been any threats or nasty letters sent to the band.

Reluctantly, Tobias agrees, and we six remain in the waiting area behind the sound room.

With the music filtered through the sound system, we can hear when the band starts withLet the Dam Burstas a warmup.It’s one of the songs Danny wrote during last year’s tour about his experience, dealing with his ex and the stalker who almost killed him. The words are powerful, and the song holds a lot of secrets most listeners will not know. But we do. Then they playChoke It,followed byFree Fall.

Danny belts out words like he’s born to do it. But Connor, he’s lacking the fire I normally hear in his playing. His rhythm is off. And if I can tell, so can the band and the producer, because both Joe and Dante have stopped the recording session multiple times, redirected them, and had the band start over again.

Connor is off, and when I spy him through the sound room glass, his face doesn’t have the passion I’ve grown to care about. Then I meet his eyes, and a blaze of indignation ignites in those green irises. Something must have kicked in, because Joe grunts and says, “Fucking finally.”

They finish recording the first song. The whole band looks tired, but they continue on with the next track,Sink or Swim, which is also the title of the album. Danny and Connor co-wrote together. I know this because I sat near them, and listened to the words as they strung them together.

They run through the song once, like the powerhouse I know Warrior Black to be, and it’s perfect.

They move on toCan’t Have Just One—the song Callum wrote at one of his weekend retreats in Colorado, but it’s hitting eleven p.m. and Dante finally calls it quits for the first night.

As the guys stroll into the break room area, Dante steps toward Connor and asks, “May I have a word with you?” They point to a door, which happens to be a small office.

Connor glances at the manager with surprise, before grumbling, “Fine.”

He strides toward the room. I follow Connor and Dante, but Dante spins around and declares, “Alone.” Then they close the door nearly in my face when I try to enter anyway.

“John,” Tobias clips out.

I could have been a bastard and pushed my way in. Instead, I grit my teeth, stand there and wait.

This close, I can hear their murmured conversation, but don’t hear any clear-cut words. It doesn’t take long before Connor storms out and shouts in a growl, “I want to get the fuck out of here.”

“What did they say to you?” Danny asks Connor, but glares at Dante.

“How sorry they are for Dad’s death and some other bullshit,” Connor grates out. “Let’s go.”

“Where are we staying? In a hotel? On the tour bus? Because I know for damn sure we aren’t staying at Ron’s,” Callum states, before rubbing his hands over his face.

“You’re right,” Dante says, a set of three silver keys dangling from their fingers. “Since you can’t stay at Ron’s, he procured a place for the band to stay until you leave for Black Rock.”