Chapter One
A deep and growing frustration had Andy on edge. Muttering curses under his breath, he banged a stiff packet of sugar against the sticky diner table. He tore it over his coffee and grabbed two more packs, only to give them the same brutal treatment. Months on the road as a drummer touring with the band Soul Smashers had taken its toll. Everything pissed him off. Stiff packets of sugar were the least of his worries. He wanted out. He wanted to be as far away from the limelight as humanly possible. Cupping the coffee between his hands, he inhaled the powerful aroma and took a long sip. The bittersweet, hot liquid rolled down his throat and spread through his center like a cascade reaching every cell in his body.
Now that he was more alert, it was time for a difficult conversation with his breakfast companion. He stared across the table at Rich, his band manager and longtime friend. Seemingly unaware of Andy’s turmoil, Rich was sending e-mails on his phone while stuffing his face with blueberry pancakes. The drummer took a deep breath and cleared his throat.
Rich looked up, chewing vigorously. “So why the hell did you wake me up this early?” he asked through his mouthful of food.
Here it goes, Andy thought. He sat his beverage down and straightened up in the booth, directly meeting the other man’s curious gaze. “I can’t finish the tour. I want out.” He ran a hand through his shoulder-length blond hair and reached for his coffee with the same fidgeting hand.
Rich leaned back, his hearty appetite suddenly vanished. “She was a groupie, Andy, nothing more,” he said. “A whore.”
Andy’s face heated as his temper flared. The deep frustration bottomed out until a white-hot pain seared across his heart for what seemed like the thousandth time. He leaned forward, fisting his hands in the air. “Her name was Madison. And she was no whore.” Except she was, sort of. The coffee was suddenly tasteless. His throat felt like sandpaper and blood. He swallowed hard.
“Whatever she was, she’s gone.” Rich’s tone was softer now. “And we have contracts signed with fifteen more venues, twelve of which are completely sold out. Don’t be stupid, man. If you want to quit the band after the tour, let’s talk about it then. But don’t leave your brothers hanging. Do you really think we’d be able to find a replacement for you that easily?”
As much as Andy wanted to drop everything and drive away from whatever pit stop town this was, he knew Rich was right. Soul Smashers’ second record was huge and most of the venues had sold out. Overnight, they had become household names. Overnight, they had become rich beyond their wildest imaginations. If only Madison hadn’t played Andy for a fool, then this shit storm wouldn’t seem so dense. Her betrayal had been the tipping point—the confirmation that this wasn’t the kind of life he wanted.
“Andy? What say you? Are you in?” Rich was pleading. Of course he’d be put out if Andy quit. So would the other members of the band—Aaron, Derrick, and Paul. The five of them had gone to the same high school and started the band in Rich’s garage. Rich had begun on guitar, but Paul eventually took over and Rich found his talents in management.
Andy took another long sip of coffee, trying to banish the memory of Madison. Eventually, his sense of duty to his friends won out. “All right,” he said. “I’m in.”
The waitress bustled by to refill their coffee cups. Andy and Rich stared at each other in awkward silence until the woman left. “What about after the tour?” Rich asked, the vein on his temple pulsing. “You gonna leave us high and dry after the last show?”
Andy unclenched his fists and let loose a deep sigh. “Just get me a fucking coffee to go, and I’ll meet you out front,” he said, sliding out of the booth. Outside, Andy leaned against the building and drank in the morning like some kind of therapeutic
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