Chapter One
“Dude, you’re still fucking asleep?”
I feel something hit my head as I force myself to sit up on the edge of the bed. I’m naked, not that Max seems to care—nor does he care about the chick lying next to me, barely covered by the thin white cotton sheet. I reach over and cup her ass. I don’t remember much of last night, except that I had fun.
“Don’t you knock?” I grumble, rubbing my throbbing head.
He laughs and throws some clothes at me.
I jerk my head in her direction. “How do you think she’d feel waking up to a fucking audience?”
Max rolls his eyes. He laughs and rubs his jaw as she rolls over, a look of recognition showing in his eyes.
“Dude, considering I plowed that last week, I daresay she wouldn’t be that annoyed. I think I left her pretty satisfied,” he adds with a wink. “She kept calling me for days.”
I groan and get up, not needing the image his words have left imprinted on my brain. Going anywhere Max has been is not something I want to think too hard about.
“I think I’m swearing off women after that,” I mutter, stomping to the shower. “Now can you get the fuck out of my room?”
Max chuckles and walks toward the door. “Hurry up. Everyone else is waiting for your sorry ass. Some of us have lives to get back to, you know.”
I take my time in the shower, savoring the feel of the hot water running over my face. I feel like shit—a combination of lack of sleep and the amount of bourbons I slammed down last night. I lost count after number ten. Shit, I don’t even remember bringing the girl back to my room—not that that’s unusual behavior for me.
If there was one thing I learned early on in life, it’s that everybody needs an outlet. Mine is letting loose after a show. I’ve worked hard to get where I am, but I’m nowhere near where I want to be. Keeping up that level of motivation is fucking hard, so I make sure I let myself relax.
My drugs of choice at the moment are blondes and bourbon.
Outside, I ignore the guys as I load my stuff into the back of the van before sinking into the passenger seat next to Max. He glances at me and chuckles, his dirty blond hair in desperate need of a wash.
“You still look like shit,” he comments, rubbing his unshaven jawline.
“Yeah, well, it was our last night away. I wanted to make the most of it.” I grin. I pull my sunglasses down and close my eyes, the bright sun almost blinding me. “Besides, you think your bright smile’s fooling me? I know you feel as seedy as I do.”
“Not true. I hold my booze way better than you, my friend. Speaking of which, you coming out tonight, or is it a quiet night in with Mommy and Daddy?”
“I’ll let you know,” I mutter, which translates to ‘It depends how quickly my father gets on my back.’ The thought of heading back home makes me feel sick. I can’t wait to get my own place and get the fuck out of there.
My relationship with my parents is strained—to put it nicely. We are your typical upper-class family: a father who works too much, a mother who drinks too much, and two fucked-up kids. No, Stacy is anything but fucked up, but she’s only fifteen. There’s still plenty of time for my parents to ruin her life—and believe me, they try.
My dad in particular has never supported my music. According to him, I’m wasting not only my time, but theirs too. My favorite line from him?
“We didn’t have you so you could fuck up your life sleeping all day, drinking and chasing a dream you’re never going to achieve.”
Supportive, huh? You can imagine the hell it caused when I was spotted by a talent scout for a record label. Even when my dreams are in my grasp, I’m still a disappointment because I refuse to follow the path they chose for me.
It’s been six months since I joined Severed, and my life has already changed so much. I still struggle to believe that six months ago this was all still a dream. I’d spend my spare time
“Dude, you’re still fucking asleep?”
I feel something hit my head as I force myself to sit up on the edge of the bed. I’m naked, not that Max seems to care—nor does he care about the chick lying next to me, barely covered by the thin white cotton sheet. I reach over and cup her ass. I don’t remember much of last night, except that I had fun.
“Don’t you knock?” I grumble, rubbing my throbbing head.
He laughs and throws some clothes at me.
I jerk my head in her direction. “How do you think she’d feel waking up to a fucking audience?”
Max rolls his eyes. He laughs and rubs his jaw as she rolls over, a look of recognition showing in his eyes.
“Dude, considering I plowed that last week, I daresay she wouldn’t be that annoyed. I think I left her pretty satisfied,” he adds with a wink. “She kept calling me for days.”
I groan and get up, not needing the image his words have left imprinted on my brain. Going anywhere Max has been is not something I want to think too hard about.
“I think I’m swearing off women after that,” I mutter, stomping to the shower. “Now can you get the fuck out of my room?”
Max chuckles and walks toward the door. “Hurry up. Everyone else is waiting for your sorry ass. Some of us have lives to get back to, you know.”
I take my time in the shower, savoring the feel of the hot water running over my face. I feel like shit—a combination of lack of sleep and the amount of bourbons I slammed down last night. I lost count after number ten. Shit, I don’t even remember bringing the girl back to my room—not that that’s unusual behavior for me.
If there was one thing I learned early on in life, it’s that everybody needs an outlet. Mine is letting loose after a show. I’ve worked hard to get where I am, but I’m nowhere near where I want to be. Keeping up that level of motivation is fucking hard, so I make sure I let myself relax.
My drugs of choice at the moment are blondes and bourbon.
Outside, I ignore the guys as I load my stuff into the back of the van before sinking into the passenger seat next to Max. He glances at me and chuckles, his dirty blond hair in desperate need of a wash.
“You still look like shit,” he comments, rubbing his unshaven jawline.
“Yeah, well, it was our last night away. I wanted to make the most of it.” I grin. I pull my sunglasses down and close my eyes, the bright sun almost blinding me. “Besides, you think your bright smile’s fooling me? I know you feel as seedy as I do.”
“Not true. I hold my booze way better than you, my friend. Speaking of which, you coming out tonight, or is it a quiet night in with Mommy and Daddy?”
“I’ll let you know,” I mutter, which translates to ‘It depends how quickly my father gets on my back.’ The thought of heading back home makes me feel sick. I can’t wait to get my own place and get the fuck out of there.
My relationship with my parents is strained—to put it nicely. We are your typical upper-class family: a father who works too much, a mother who drinks too much, and two fucked-up kids. No, Stacy is anything but fucked up, but she’s only fifteen. There’s still plenty of time for my parents to ruin her life—and believe me, they try.
My dad in particular has never supported my music. According to him, I’m wasting not only my time, but theirs too. My favorite line from him?
“We didn’t have you so you could fuck up your life sleeping all day, drinking and chasing a dream you’re never going to achieve.”
Supportive, huh? You can imagine the hell it caused when I was spotted by a talent scout for a record label. Even when my dreams are in my grasp, I’m still a disappointment because I refuse to follow the path they chose for me.
It’s been six months since I joined Severed, and my life has already changed so much. I still struggle to believe that six months ago this was all still a dream. I’d spend my spare time
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