Page 7

I don’t answer, just incline my head to Mitch and Kas and we head back on stage.

The crowd cheers, and the spotlight shines down on me. They seem extra bright in my drug-induced haze, almost singeing my retinas. I lower my head and shake it off and saunter to the microphone.

Without preamble, we jump into our next song, in perfect sync, even though we’re down a member. But the three of us make magic like we always have. We don’t fucking need Tech.

“Alright,” I say, speaking into the mic when the show winds down. “We have time for one more song. How about you all tell me what you wanna hear, huh? ”

Shouts and requests are hurled at us, and I grin over at my bassist and drummer as they follow me on our outro track.

“What you think we should play, Mitch?” I look back at him with a grin.

“Prayers For Me,” he replies. I know why he chose that one. It has a long-ass drum solo.

I chuckle but shake my head. He shrugs and spins his drumsticks around his fingers before going back to playing our track.

“Kas?”

He riffs on his guitar, playing a few chords before he leans into his mic. “Let’s play Road to Hell.”

“Good choice. Road?—”

Before I can finish my sentence, a loud, strong voice yells, “Play ‘In the Stars’.”

The air whooshes out of my lungs as cheers and applause light up the stadium for the request of our first hit single.

A song I haven’t sang in close to ten years.

I remember the words—every single word—and what they mean.

Who they’re for.

I clear my throat. “Nah, Road to Hell is?—”

“In the Stars! In the Stars! In the Stars! In the Stars! In the Stars!” the crowd chants, drowning out any other words I try to speak.

I look back at my bandmates, and they shrug. But they don’t know what the song means. They don’t understand the significance of it and can’t understand why I’m hesitant to sing it.

Blowing out a sigh, I start the chords for “In the Stars” and the crowd calms down. I hum the opening beats, a lump forming in my throat and my high vanishing as if it never existed.

I swallow roughly before I open my mouth, singing the chorus of the song before I dive into the lyrics.

In our next life, we could be more…

So much more than what we are…

So for now, baby, look for me in the stars…

The crowd sings along in perfect pitch the entire time. I lower my lids, and the gray eyes of Jaxon swim behind them. I try to push him away, but I can’t stop seeing his face, his smile. Then I feel his betrayal, the broken trust.

I let the crowd finish the song, as words fail me.

It’s been so long since I’ve thought of Jaxon past a second or two. I’m not sure why memories of him are hitting so hard, right now , but I need to drown them out as soon as possible. Thinking about him does me no good. He’s my past, someone I thought I knew.

Someone I thought would keep their word to me.

When the song wraps up, I thank the crowd and hurry off the stage.

I ignore everyone who tries to speak to me, pushing past people and blowing off fans that have backstage passes.

I don’t want to be around anyone. Zed will tell them something to mollify them, I honestly don’t give a fuck if they’re pissed at me or not. I already have their money.

I’m almost to my dressing room when I hear, “He’s probably trashed. Rumor has it he’s a low-key meth head. That one page on Insta says he’s a junkie or some shit.”

I stop in my tracks, my blood boiling .

Without a word, I turn around and walk over to the group of three guys standing by the wall. I’m not sure which one called me a junkie, but I cock my fist back and punch two of them in the face before they know what’s happening.

A haymaker catches me in the side of the head, and I stumble into the wall. It gives all the men time to jump on me, trying to knock me to the ground. I throw punch after punch, catching soft flesh and hard bone. The hits jar my hand, but I don’t stop.

Soon enough, security rushes over to pull us apart. I’m fucked up, but so are they, the three of them looking a little worse for wear against little ol’ me. I spit blood from my mouth and smile at them. “Who’s the meth head now, bitch?”

“I’m going to fucking sue your ass!” the man with the worst of it shouts, his eye already swollen, and his nose leaking like a faucet.

“Go ahead. It’ll be more money than you’ll ever have in your entire miserable fucking life.”

I pull away from the people holding me back and storm to my dressing room. Sitting at the vanity, I check my face and smile at my reflection to see the blood coating my teeth.

Zed storms inside, slamming the door behind him. “What the fuck, Ryder? Do you know how much that will cost? This is your third fucking fight with a fan. Do you want a career?”

I shrug and pull a cigarette from the pack on the vanity before lighting it with an engraved lighter Vic gave me after our first show. “Just fix it, Zed. That’s your fucking job.” He huffs, but I ignore him. “I’m going to the bus.”

With that, I push past him and head to the tour bus, ignoring the jeers and taunts behind me.