Page 61 of Reckless
* * *
I kept my promise,for a little while. In the three months that had passed, I’d worked like a man driven, and each tour date flashed by in a blur. I buried most of the pain and dove into songwriting with the rest.
But the words were dry. Maybe because I wasn’t even sure what was real any longer. I could’ve collapsed in a heap on the floor and felt the same. Like I barely even existed outside of some celebrity rag.
Activity burst around me on stage, covered by the buzz of the speakers and chanting of the fans waiting for Gaged to begin. In the dark, I prepared myself for the song. Singing was easier because the words were all mapped out. These days, I couldn’t trust myself to speak. As soon as I parted my lips to talk, I became a rollercoaster of emotions. Which I then had to take into a private room. I went through five emotions a second and not one of them was anything like acceptance.
The first notes of the fucking song I didn’t want to sing even one more time in my life were strummed, their melody wrapping around my heart like barbed wire.
I’d felt more connected to Kelly than ever before during the time I was in New Hope. It hurt to let her go. In truth, leaving the little cocoon we’d built destroyed me. But it was better to walk away than hurt her again, destroy her carefully planned life with the upheaval of mine.
This way was safer.
Lights flashed behind me, momentarily blinding the audience, who recovered and screamed, jumping up and down, waving. My stomach churned, but I had to pretend I was loving being here, having the time of my life. All eyes were on me.
I yelled into the mic, “How are you tonight…shit, where are we again?” A laugh came out of my mouth, but no one joined in. It was really bad to forget where you were. Fans liked to think they were special, that you were there for just them. And you couldn’t be if you didn’t fucking know what city you were in.
I shot Andy a look, and he mouthed “Boston” at me. How the hell had we gotten to Boston? I could barely remember being in L.A. Gaged was all over the place. We’d spent the last six weeks touring hard, covering the cities we missed when Mom was sick and adding in even more to build our following back up.
“How are you feeling, Boston?” I shouted, taking control over the crowd, promising them a night like they’d never had. I blamed the whooping from the crowd when I staggered backward, only just catching myself before I fell. I’d had one or two drinks before getting up on stage tonight, because now I hadtwodamn songs to sing that tore my heart apart. One had been bad enough. Two fucking ripped me to shreds inside. Not only was there our first hit from when Kelly was my naïve teenage first love, but I wrote a song about the short-lived romance we’d just been through.
Fucking Andy. I wished he hadn’t heard me singing it. It was his idea to make it our next single because itmade it clear that my heart had been broken, which he thought our fans would lap up. And they had.
Ron wanted the world to believe that they could be with us? Then so be it. Kelly and I weren’t meant to be together. All we ever did was hurt one another, over and over again, there was no way that shitshow was destiny.
Fuck destiny anyway. I didn’t needthe one, hell, didn’t even believe in a person having only one person meant only for them. It was just something we told ourselves so we felt better about our romantic choices. I wouldn’t ever sink down that hole again.
Andy jumped in to put a stop to my stalling. “It’s time for ‘Yours Now.’” His eyes burned into mine, letting me know I was sabotaging the opening of the concert.
I was here, wasn’t I? Doing my best.
A sword impaled my heart, the pain ricocheting through my torso and out into my fingers. I gripped the mic so hard I was surprised I didn’t crush it. How the hell could I keep putting myself through this torture again and again? Every time I got on set, I felt like I was on a roller coaster, climbing higher and higher, the anticipation building, just before I was tipped over the edge and sent flying into the abyss.
I always wanted to get off the ride, every time. But I couldn’t stop it. I’d been strapped in, Ben banging his drumsticks, Bryan setting the mood with the bass.
I yanked the microphone from the stand so I could move about the stage. Focusing on physical movements was better than standing still. It helped. Just enough to keep my head on anyway. At least until I got off the stage, which was all that had been asked of me. As long as I gave what the fans deserved, nothing else mattered.
I told myself I could survive one more concert, then I would regroup. But I didn’t know if I could make it through the night now without calling Kelly and begging her to come to Boston. The song by Dave Loggins, “Please Come to Boston” played in my head, and I knew I’d be calling her, begging her to come with the same result as the poor guy in the song if I didn’t do something about it.
Which was why I herded the guys to a crowded club the moment the concert was over.
“This place is fucking mental, isn’t it?” Ben pressed his hands to his ears.
I shoved him, probably a little too hard since he staggered backward. I chuckled, the laughter feeling good, and hoped he would deck me so I’d have a chance to fight. “When did you become such a pussy?”
His jaw tightened, but he only said, “Man, this isn’t really your scene.”
“Who the fuck cares? Let’s get a drink.”
“I really think we should get out of here. We’re up early anyway.”
“Only to travel. We can sleep it off on the bus.”
I curled my fingers tight around Ben’s arm. I had a couple of years on him, but the look he gave me made me feel about two feet tall, like he was the wise one. What the fuck happened to Mr. Party-all-night?
“I really think we need to go, Gage.” His dark eyes were stony, unmovable.
I shifted uncomfortably, hating the cold feeling creeping through my veins. I didn’t want this dose of reality, which was why I’d chosen this place. Ben was in danger of switching my brain back on.
