Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 76205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
I have two texts—one from Maddie and one from Brianna, both asking how Dragon is.
Another text pops up, this one from Cage asking the same thing.
I don’t know what to say.
I start a group text with all of them. I don’t want to have to be typing shit five different times.
My group text includes Maddie, Brianna, Cage, Jake, Rory, and Callie. I don’t know Brock’s and Donny’s phone numbers, and I only know Brianna’s because she texted me.
No news yet. He’s in the back with the doctors.
Then I text Cage only.
We need a drummer for tonight. Get on that. Please.
I shove my phone back in my pocket and glance at the display of magazines on the table next to my chair. Nothing looks the least bit interesting, and it’s not like I could focus on anything other than Dragon. I take one anyway—Time Out London. To my surprise, the cover story is on the current Emerald Phoenix tour through the UK. I shuffle through the pages and find the article. Dragonlock isn’t mentioned. Why would we be? First, we’re nobodies compared to Emerald Phoenix, and second, we were a last-minute replacement when the previous opener dropped out.
Great. Like I need a reminder of this tour and everything that’s at stake.
I shove the magazine back onto the table. This is all my fault. I should’ve stayed with Dragon last night. I should’ve given those women the boot.
I know Dragon. He’s worked so hard at his sobriety. He wouldn’t have taken anything hard on his own.
He may have smoked a little weed—but only if the women brought it. Recreational marijuana is still illegal in the UK. He probably drank a few beers. He tends to stay away from the hard stuff.
But no matter how horny or drunk he got, he would not have ingested anything hard. He would not have risked his sobriety—not for anything, and certainly not for a couple of groupies.
Not with this tour at stake.
Those two girls…
What were their names again? Jenny and Andrea? They were both brunettes, but other than that, I can’t remember anything unique about either of them. I have no last names, no other identifying characteristics. At this point, Dragon probably won’t be able to remember anything about them either.
I’m almost positive they slipped him something. Some narcotic, maybe. Heroine or fentanyl. Or maybe something to produce amnesia like roofies or ketamine.
No, probably not one of those. Neither of those would have knocked him out. They just would have caused amnesia. Oh hell, I don’t even know. I know nothing about drugs. I could take out my phone, do a quick search of all the illicit drugs that have the possibility of rendering a person unconscious, but frankly, I don’t want to know. Besides, for everything you find on the internet, there’s another source that will tell you it’s wrong.
I just have to wait. When Dragon’s toxicology report comes back, I’ll know for sure what’s in his system.
I don’t even care what it is at this point. I just want them to save his life.
Even if they do, he won’t be in any condition to perform tonight. We’ll have to find another drummer. I’ve got Cage on that now. Between him, Jake, and Rory… I hope they can come up with something.
I’m in a foreign country, and I don’t know anyone. I certainly don’t know any drummers, though I’m sure they’re plentiful.
Still, Dragon is a freaking genius on percussion. No one will be able to fill his shoes.
We’re fucked.
We can’t perform without a drummer.
Which means we can’t perform.
My phone buzzes. Rory.
“Hey, Ror.”
“No news yet?”
“Not yet.” I glance at the door they dragged Dragon through. “It hasn’t been that long.”
“Look. I’ve been talking to the guys. We all hate what happened, but we think we may have a solution.”
“Oh?” I know better than to let myself feel hopeful…yet a spark of hope surges into me.
“You know Jake plays drums.”
“Yeah, that’s right. I forgot about that.”
“So he could take over for Dragon, but that means…”
I draw in a breath. “That means I have to go back on lead guitar.”
“Yeah.”
“And taking me off guitar to concentrate on vocals is what drew Emerald Phoenix to us,” I say, more to myself than to Rory.
“Yes, but surely they’d understand—”
“They won’t understand, Rory. They’re not going to understand that one of our band members OD’d, and we’re screwed.”
“Jess, this tour means everything.”
I scoff. “You think you have to tell me that?”
“I’m just saying that it is a solution. Is it the perfect solution? No, of course not. The perfect solution would be for Dragon to be playing the drums. But that isn’t going to happen.” Her voice starts to break. “This is all my fault.”
“Your fault?” I can’t help another scoff. “Rory, for God’s sake. How the hell is this your fault?”