Page 11 of In the Stars

A door in the hallway opens, and my mom stumbles to my room, scratching her rat’s nest of hair. “What did ya do? Why are cops—” She stops talking when she looks down at Perry’s prone body, blood pooling around his head. Then she lets out a shrill scream and runs over to him, throwing herself over him.

I cover my ears to protect them from the noise of her anguish and the splintering of the front door.

The next few hours are a whirl of activity, and I block most of it out, only brief flashes piercing the veil of shock that covers me.

Flash:Being put in handcuffs and carted away from the house as my mother screams at me, calling me a murderer, even though Perry isn’t dead.

Flash: The cops questioning me as to why I attacked Perry.

Flash:Them looking shocked when I finally admit he attacked me first.

Flash: The cops lifting my shirt to find the bruises that mar my body.

Flash: A doctor asking me if I’m hurt anywhere else.

Flash: Getting shot after shot and handfuls of antibiotics to protect me from sexually transmitted infections.

Flash: Fighting off the doctor before he can check me for semen samples in my rectum.

Flash:My father pushing past police officers to get to me, planting a rough palm on the side of my face as he cries, saying he’s sorry he wasn’t there for me. Telling me he didn’t know where my mom moved us. That he’ll make sure nothing else happens to me ever again.

Flash…the nurse giving me pain meds, helping me float away from my shitty existence.

FIVE

WESLEY

Paved with good intentions, the road to hell built on gilded lies…

The devil whispers to me, and my soul dies….

Listen to my intuition, don’t let the sweet words in…

My world is built on sin…

I beltthe lyrics into the mic, my voice rising high over the backing music and my bandmates’ instruments. The stadium is packed to the brim, cheering fans singing along to the lyrics of our most recent number one hit.

My throat hurts from the rasp of this song, but I push through, hitting every note perfectly.

The show is a success, but I’m keyed up for some reason, my skin crawling and my head too full.

Fuck, I need something to take the edge off. My stash is back in the changing room. This is our last song before themid-show headliner comes out, so I’ll have time to get right before the show is over.

“Let me hear you!” I yell into the mic, and the crowd gets louder as they cheer and sing along to the chorus.

The lights are bright, flashing in my eyes. But I don’t mind. It’s the only time I feel alive. The only time I feel like a person.

I sing the last bar of the song, and the crowd explodes with cheers, throwing flowers, panties, and bras onto the stage. Mitch, the drummer of Lana’s Mischief, grabs a pair of underwear that landed near his feet and brings them to his nose, breathing in deeply. More applause and more panties make their way to the stage.

“We’ll be back in fifteen. Enjoy an up-and-coming band, The Blu Few.”

I hurry backstage, my skin feeling tight and my stomach clenching with need. Mitch walks beside me, and I try to shake him off so I can get to my dressing room. “Crowd was wild tonight, man.” He sniffs the panties again, his eyes rolling to the back of his head before he tosses them into a trash can we pass. “Think we’ll get some bitches tonight?”

Mitch won’t have an issue getting some. He’s a handsome son of a bitch. Tall, somewhere around six four, a lean frame that’s tatted from head to toe, long blond hair and piercings lining his left ear. If he didn’t make it as a drummer, he’d have to be a tattoo artist or a piercer because he’s covered in ink and metal. The crazy fucker even has tattoos on his eyelids. One says ROCK, the other says STAR. With a sharp, thin nose and wide eyes, he looks like a sexy owl. Women eat that shit up.

I shrug, though I know the answer. There will be plenty of women and men to choose from, and hell, some would be down to fuck us at the same time. Maybe the person whotossed those panties will be lucky enough to hop on Mitch’s dick tonight.

But I can’t focus on him right now. My hands shake and sweat dots my brow as I hurry to my dressing room. I need something to chase the sickness away so I can finish this show. We only have five more songs. A quick bump or a few pills and a shot or two will work to cool me out.

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