31

I nodded to Vandergriff aka the ‘Buzz Buster’ as King had dubbed him. Our band’s new enforcer was built like the Incredible Hulk, his muscles bulging beneath his cheap polyester suit. We had to check in with the guy twice a day, morning and night. He’d traveled with us on the twenty-eight hour bus ride from Miami to Minneapolis and on the four hour flight up to Vancouver, the last stop on the tour. His methods weren’t pleasant, but he’d been successful. Not that I was giving him any trouble. I was just biding my time, holding it together, until I could talk to Lace. The only one of us he hadn’t gotten into line yet was War.

I searched the backstage area, but there was no sign of him. I hoped our lead singer wouldn’t screw up this final concert, but I had an awful feeling that he would. Warren and I hadn’t spoken a word to each other since Miami. Actually, he pretty much wasn’t on speaking terms with anyone in the group. The Morris betrayal had opened up a rift between him and the other guys too. It wasn’t something that would be easily forgotten or forgiven. Not that War was much interested in bridging the gap. If anything, he’d gotten more temperamental, more demanding, and more unpredictable.

Tempest had barely taken the stage on time in Minneapolis because of him. He’d locked himself in a room backstage with a couple of fan girls the roadies had pulled from the audience. Apparently, the usual groupies wouldn’t do for His Highness anymore.

“When was the last time you saw him?” Dizzy asked me as he tightened the strings on his Gibson.

“Not since we landed and he made that big scene about the lukewarm beer in first class.”

“King’s right. The dude’s got it bad.”

“What?” I rolled my shoulders.

“LSD.”

“Shit. You’re kiddin’ me.”

Dizzy barked out a laugh. “LSD. Lead singer’s disease, man. War’s got a real bad case.”

Speaking of the diseased monster, he had finally arrived. War was obviously wasted. His head was slumped to his chest, his arms were draped around two women, and his legs wobbled under him like limp noodles.

I glanced over to see if Vandergriff had noticed. Sure enough, Buzz Buster was already heading straight toward him with a dark look on his face. He dismissed the two girls and had grabbed War as he started to fall forward. War lifted his head, his lips twitching right before he blew chunks all over Buzz Buster’s shiny black dress shoes.

“Bullet. Dizzy,” Buzz Buster cursed. “Come help me with this asshole.”

“We’re screwed,” Dizzy mumbled as we hurried over. “We’ve only got thirty minutes before we’re on.”

“I’m fine,” War insisted, rocking back on his heels. He put his hand on his hip but his attempt to appear belligerent was sabotaged by the fact that he almost fell over again. “Get me my shades!” he yelled at one of the roadies while pulling his black bandana lower over his beer goggled eyes.

“I don’t believe you, man.” I shook my head.

“Yeah, well.” War’s gaze cut to me, his stare surprisingly steady considering the intensity of the alcohol reek emanating from him. “I can’t believe you either, asshole.”

We glared at each other. The undercurrent of restrained violence between us saddened me more than I was willing to admit. Numbly, I nodded when Buzz Buster ordered me to keep an eye on War while he and Dizzy went to round up some Red Bull.

I drug a frustrated hand through my hair. The tour, the group, my friendships, my life, everything was going to hell. Maybe I should try to salvage some of it. “Listen,” I told War, taking a step closer. “I’m sorry. Sorry about busting you in the jaw. Sorry about you and Lace. I know how you must feel.”

“You don’t know anything,” War growled.

“I know what a low tolerance you have for rejection. I was there when your father…”

“Shut up!” War’s shouted eyes narrowed. “I don’t care about that bastard and I don’t give a fuck about that bitch Lace, either.” He spat the words out, a cruel grin twisting his lips. “The only reason I was ever with her was because I enjoyed watching what it did to you.” It appeared to amuse him to see how much his words affected me. “It used to be nice having you trail around after me like a puppy, always ready to do my bidding. But it got old after a while.” He waved his hand in the air. “In fact, all this shit’s gotten old.”

Buzz Buster returned and thrust a Red Bull into War’s hand. “Drink up,” he ordered. “And keep it down.”

War took a long swig and wipes his mouth. “Listen all,” he projected, loudly enough that everyone backstage turned in our direction. “I have a special announcement to make.” He pointed at me. “I’m not working with this mother fucker anymore. I’m quitting after tonight’s show.” He stumbled to the edge of the stage, brushing past Dizzy. “Now let’s get this shit over with.”

I didn’t move. Shock had frozen my feet in place.

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