Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 129207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
I throw myself to my feet again. “Don’t you use his name against me.”
Lenny shakes his head, looking at me like I’m a fucking disaster, and he’d be right. I haven’t had my head straight since the day Axel died. Hell, if Ax were still here, he’d probably argue that I haven’t been right since leaving Rae behind. And again, he’d probably be right. He was always right where she was concerned.
“You’re circling the drain, Ezra,” Lenny says. “I’ve been patient with you out of respect for Axel. The band has enough popularity that you could still pull through this and get your name back on the top of the charts, but it’s time to carry your weight. There’s only so much we can do before you become irrelevant, and trust me, if you’re done, that’s fine. There are a thousand other bands waiting to step into your shadows. So get your shit together, pick up your fucking guitar, and get back to work. Hell, maybe even pick up that old pen of yours, dust it off, and write some lyrics. Nobody gives a fuck what it’s about, as long as it’s new music.”
The anger bubbles up inside of me, and as my hands ball into fists, I push away from the table and storm out of the boardroom with Rock’s muttered tone falling behind me. “Well, that went well.”
This is fucking bullshit.
Not only am I being forced back on tour, but now our show is about to turn into a fucking spectacle. All I can hope is that Rock and Dylan have been working with the label behind the scenes to make sure our tour isn’t about to be turned into a fucking circus.
Pyrotechnics and dancers? Fuck me.
Being too on edge to drive, I stop in the artists’ lounge and help myself to a drink to clear my head. Before I can even wrap my head around everything that just went down in there, I hear Rock and Dylan talking in the hallway, clearly assuming I hightailed it outta here.
“You really think we’re making the right move?” Dylan asks him. “You saw him in there. He’s not ready.”
“We’ve got no choice, man,” Rock says. “Lenny’s right. Our fans have been patient with us, but there’s only so long we can postpone this before their patience turns into anger. Besides, he’s spiraling. He can’t see it now, and I don’t know if he’s hesitant because he doesn’t want to get on that stage without Ax, or if he’s just too fucking scared to face the pain that will come with it, but being on tour is where he’s at home. He needs that stage more than he knows. If we don’t do something to help him, he’s going to end up buried right beside Ax.”
“Fuck.”
Their words feel like a fucking weight against my chest, making it almost impossible to breathe, and honestly, I don’t know why. It’s nothing I haven’t heard them say a million times over the past two years, but those were always conversations spoken directly to my face. Hearing the agony in their voices now somehow makes it real.
Do they really think I’m spiraling too far, that there’s no coming back for me?
“Yeah,” Rock murmurs. “I just wish there was some way we could help him. None of the usual tricks are working. Hookers, drugs, alcohol. I’ve thrown it all at him trying to pull him out of this. I’m fucking close to throwing his ass inside a therapist’s office and not letting him out until he’s dealt with his shit.”
“I know what you’re saying. I thought he just needed time and space, but all that’s done is force a wedge between us. I know he was closest to Ax, but at some point, I thought he’d come to us. At least, I hoped. And I know this is going to sound bad, but with Ax gone, the show can at least go on. There are other guys who can play guitar, and while I know it will never be the same, at least we could still get through the tour and maybe even have a shot at making another album. But without Ezra . . . I don’t know. He’s our frontman. If he goes down, the whole fucking ship sinks with him.”
There’s silence for a while before Dylan speaks up again, but there’s a fierce reluctance in his tone that puts me on edge. “Look, I’ve got an idea,” he tells Rock. “I don’t know how it’ll play out. It could either make or break him, and if it breaks him, I don’t think anything will ever be the same.”
“Fuck.” Rock lets out a heavy breath, and even from within the lounge, I can hear it. “What have we got to lose?”
Dylan scoffs. “Oh, I don’t know. Only everything we’ve ever worked for.”