Page 17 of Never To Suffer (The Hollywoodland #4)

CUNTISSIMO

MARINA

The words sit on the screen, waiting for me to press the button and send it off to the atmosphere or wherever those things go. The words stare at me like they have for the last three hours, and that after I spent two hours trying to think of what to say, deleting messages, and retyping them.

Skylar, we miss you. Come home?

My stomach knots, but I’m not sure if I’m more scared of them answering, or terrified that they won’t .

It’s why I haven’t tried to contact them before today; I’m not sure I could handle rejection from them.

The simple act of not contacting them gave me permission to let my imagination run wild with possibilities.

Anything I dreamed for them. But also, any nightmare.

But even the nightmares weren’t as hard to process as rejection.

They didn’t altogether reject us; they never gave us a chance to see what would happen.

For Skylar Beck, the term ‘ complicated relationship’ doesn’t even come close to scratching the surface of their situation.

But deep down, Xander and I always knew we would come back to them, even if it took time. But do they feel the same way?

That’s the deciding factor in my back-and-forth game of send or don’t send. They’re worth more than a shot. I press send, turn off my phone, and try to take a nap. Skylar’s skills would elevate the band and bring out the best in all of us; they might do even more for Xander and I.

Every bone in my body snaps and groans as we climb out of the van and get slapped in the face with a level of humidity none of us are used to.

I can feel my scalp cringing, so I grab my beanie and tug it down over my ears.

I’m from Los Angeles, we don’t handle rain and wet conditions well.

I grab my bag and sling it over my shoulder before helping Noah get her gear out of the back.

Once we have it all stacked by the side of the van, we all stand around and take in the motel.

We’re going to die before this stupid contest even starts.

The ominous glow of the vacancy sign reminds me of Psycho, and the no in front of it has a persistent flash that sends either the right message or the wrong, depending on how ready you are to meet your maker.

All the windows have a film to them so thick it turns my stomach.

And some doors sport dents large enough to see from the parking lot.

“Shit, we’re going to end up dismembered in a bathtub here tonight, gang.

Good knowing you all.” Connor echoes the thoughts in my head as he swallows the lump in his throat.

He self-soothes by twirling his drumsticks between his fingers, and I’m jealous that he at least has a method.

“Well, no point in waiting around. Shall we?”

“I go to my forefathers—” I whisper, but he only stares at me. “Lord of the—never mind. Read a book, Connor.”

I dig my phone out of my pocket, turn it on, and find only two bars of reception—nothing from Sky.

“I don’t think we can check into the death resort until—” Noah’s cut off by tires crunching on the blacktop.

We all spin around to see the shiny new Lexus pull up with its dark, tinted windows.

I’ve seen this movie before and I’m not ready for the chase scene through the cornfield.

Masked men with chainsaws are only fun on screen.

The door opens and my heart races while I glance between us, trying to decide which of us has the chops to make the cut as the final girl.

The collective sigh of relief we all breathe when Todd, the new bassist, climbs out, turns to groans once we recognize him. I’m not sure which one of us will swing on him first, but it’s going to happen. Connor said he’s betting on me, but it might be a joint effort if he keeps this up.

“Hey, kids! We ready to rock?” He smirks, leaning against the car. “Did you guys fight a bear? And lose? Also, why the hell are you staying at the Bates Motel?”

“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad! It’s… charming. Quaint!” Connor tries, but can’t even convince himself. “This isn’t what they showed on the website, bro.”

“Whatever, man, we’re only sleeping here.” Noah says, watching Connor jog to the office before narrowing her eyes at Todd. “Wait, what do you mean when you said why are we staying here? That implies you’re not.”

“I got a room in a less sketchy part of town. I’m not planning on dying here.”

“Uhm, guys?” Connor mumbles as he walks back to the group. “Problem. Only one room left. I booked three!”

“What, and I mean this with the absolute least amount of respect humanly possible, the hell?” Noah’s arms fold as she rips Todd into a thousand pieces in her mind.

“Oh, yeah. I figured the band needed to save money and Connor can stay with me. Leaves you two ladies with a love nest to yourselves,” Todd winks.

“I’ll hang with you two, don’t worry. Everything’s gonna be fine,” Connor tries to convince us with his upbeat tone, and nudges my arm. “Think of it as your old apartment; we can handle that!”

“If the serial killer comes to my room, I’m giving him directions to wherever you’re sleeping tonight so I can hear you scream first, Todd.” I reply, sticking my tongue out.

I am ready to redirect all my rage and aggravated energy into rocking this stage to the ground.

Until Todd walked into the green room fifteen minutes before our set.

No apology, no explanation, not even a boatload of bullshit excuses because, according to him, this is acceptable.

Just when I don’t believe it can get worse, it continues getting worse.

“Oh, cool, you’re here. Where were you, man?” Connor claps the guy on the back—all smiles and happiness. I’m convinced he’s high until he leans in and gives Todd a kiss that borders on pornographic, complete with Connor’s soft whimper as Todd pulls away with a crooked smirk.

“Get a room—oh wait, you already have one, don’t you?” I quip. “So, what do I call you on stage?”

He searches the room, only to realize I’m talking to him. “Uhm, Todd?”

“Just Todd? Like I’m going on stage in front of a crowd ready to rock, and I’m supposed to say ‘and on bass, Todd ’ like it’s all fine and we’re cool with it?”

“I mean, it is my name,” he scoffs, putting in a fake nose ring and eyebrow piercings before slurping down more of his iced coffee. “Rory said you guys would be dicks. I should have listened to her.”

That’s when I snap. Every rational, calm, fun part of me has taken shelter in the shadows, letting the other, darker emotions slither in and take control.

My nails dig into the palm of my hand until I feel a warmth drip down my finger, and the heat coming off me could start a fire, I’m sure of it.

I storm across the room and smack the cup out of his hand.

It hits the floor, causing the top to come off and ice to fly everywhere.

The cold, milky drink drips down my boots, which only adds to the raging sun burning in me.

“What the hell is your problem?” he has the audacity to ask.

“You and Rory know each other? You didn’t think you should mention that!?” I don’t scream it, but I add a little extra venom to her name.

“Don’t do this,” Connor runs over, pulling me back by the shoulders. “Come on, don’t do this here, Dani. Let’s get through the show, and later, we’ll find a bar and talk this out.”

“Talk? You want me to talk to this prick?” I spit out, pushing Connor off me.

“Come on, please? For me?” Connor has these big brown puppy dog eyes that he weaponizes when I least expect it. He does it because I can’t say no to him, and he’s laying it on extra thick right now. I hate him sometimes.

“We’re all under a shit ton of stress,” Noah says, maintaining her calm. “Between the move, worrying about Xander, you’re under even more pressure. We can’t flake out on the first night. Take it all up there on the stage and get it out of your system the way you do, okay?”

“Fine.”

“Guys, five minutes. Let’s go!” the stage manager yells in the door before disappearing again.

I rip my jacket off the hook and storm out of the room, slamming the door behind me.

Once I’m in the hall, I take three deep breaths to refocus all of this into the music, like Noah said.

I’m not losing my shit on night one. So long as the rest of us play like our lives depend on it, we’ll make it through this.

The stage manager waves us forward as the rest of the band shuffles out of the room.

I wait, letting them take the lead; it’s what I always do.

I listen to them set up while I wait in the shadows, an eerie calm talking over as I inhale the stale beer and heavy night air.

I love this shit so much. When it’s my turn to walk on, the audience cheers, pumping more adrenaline through me.

They’re drunk, and they’re ready to party.

I’m pissed and ready to give them a show.

I grab the mic. “Hey fuckers! We’re gonna get right into it for you since you’ve been waiting all day for something good. That’s Connor on drums, Noah on guitar!” I turn and shake my head, motioning toward Todd. “And this is some dickwad named Todd . We’re LA Proper. Let’s do this!”

The buzz of the stage as we come off our third and final show of the week lights me up like the billboard outside my old apartment.

Through the fear, anger, and uncertainty, we put on solid performances that we can be proud of.

Even if we don’t make the cut. I’m woman enough to admit that Todd wasn’t half bad, improving with each set. He wasn’t half good either, though.

After we pack up the equipment, I find three exhausted faces staring back at me, and I’m betting I’m no better.

So, I offer to buy the first round while we watch the last few acts of the weekend.

We navigate through the crowd to the area dedicated to the bands and nab a table in the back, ordering our first bucket of beers.

“Do you think she’ll come back?” Noah tiptoes into the subject when Todd disappears from the table. “I mean, if we asked Rory and we’re super nice about it. Do you think she would? ‘Cause Todd was… man. He kind of sucks.”

“You want her back, Noah?” I ask, taking a swig from the beer I’ve nursed for the last hour. “Like if she came over here right now, would you want to go up and play another set with her?”

“No,” she groans. Rory and Noah never got along, but thinking back, none of us got along with Rory. “That would suck more.”

“We can rework the songs, make them easier for Todd to pick up?” I try to put on a smile, but it falters. “Who am I kidding? We’re headed home.”

Connor puts an arm around my shoulders. “We’re going home because it’s between shows, not because they’re dropping us.

Stop being so lame. Todd will work for now, at least until we can find someone else.

” He tilts my head up and grins at me, half-drunk.

“They’ve packed the house since Wednesday night.

So, if you’re going to think like we’re going home, I’m sure NotOkay Records will host this again next year. ”

The pit in my stomach wants me to listen to my gut, to bow out and come back to fight another year. Or bow out and stay out. Maybe I’m not cut out for this. Another failure in a long line of attempts to reach my dreams, only to fall. Hard.

But my heart wants to listen to Connor.

Noah flags down the guy working our area and orders another bucket before leaning in.

“We need to be real, right? We’re kind of broken and winging it right now.

That will only get us so far before we’re blown out of the water.

But we still get recognition. We’re still selling merch and getting the name out there. ”

“Do you two want to throw in the towel and let Rory win? Fine. I get it, I’ll get over it, and yeah, we’ll come back stronger next year,” Connor replies.

“But I’m all for staying in. We have a few days before the next show, and I’ll work on Todd.

There will be plenty of people lining up in LA.

We need to get through the first couple of rounds and prove we’re not losers. ”

“Work on Todd’s skills as a bassist or work on his dick?” Noah teases, getting a laugh out of all of us. “Do you guys want the standings so far before we decide? See if they’ve made the decision for us?” Noah asks, staring at the bright screen in front of her.

“If we’re out, are you going to tear Todd apart again?” Connor asks.

“I only spoke the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me, Chase Cooper.”

“Chase Cooper?” Noah cocks her head to the side. “Praying to your besties now?”

“He’s played a god or something in a movie, I think.”

“No, Chase played the patriotic dude’s buddy or whatever,” Connor corrects me before gesturing to Noah’s phone. “Alright, give it to us, oh keeper of knowledge. How bad?”

We all lean in, staring at this strange tracking graphic that doesn’t make much sense to me. It’s hard to read the names, and I take a second to spot ours. We lock eyes for a second before checking the phone again. None of us say a word.

We’re fifth. We’re moving on to the next round!