Forty-Eight

James drove away quickly, most likely to check on Petula. While she was still stressed out, she seemed to deal with it better than before. It had to be because of James. Based on what I knew about their relationship dynamic, he was always going to be there to protect her and help her make the healthier choices. I wanted that sort of relationship as well, just without the whole 'daddy' aspect.

The front door opened as I was heading back inside, and Devon walked out. "I think I should head home. I texted Rena I was here, but she was asleep when I left."

"Does she not usually like to be left alone?"

"She doesn't mind it, but, you know, it's the middle of the night. She's probably a little more scared than she would be in the morning." He patted my arm. "I'll check on you in the morning."

"I'm really sorry for freaking you out," I blurted. He stopped on his way to the car and faced me. "I didn't think you'd be here tonight, but I'm really glad you are."

"I felt like I was about to have a panic attack the moment Jeanie told me what happened," he admitted. "It was like someone pressed the pause button on my life. Everything stopped, and I rushed straight over here. When I saw James carry you inside, you looked like you were dead."

My heart ached, and I shoved my hands in my pockets. "I'm sorry."

"I feel like I can't be mad, since I know you're stubborn about your music and completely determined to prove yourself every chance you get, but... I can't help but be mad. Mel, you could have injured yourself a lot worse than you did. For all you know, you could have died."

"Okay, I am not going to die from fatigue."

"Why, you're going to die with a big bang or something?" he mocked. "Isn't that what happened when your head hit your drum?" he exclaimed. "I get you want to prove yourself. I get that you can't be easily persuaded to stop playing when you think you can, but sometimes, the people around you actually have valid points. James said he could tell you were off all night. You have been exhausted and overworked for weeks. You don't sleep well anymore. And yet when people handed you a lifeline, you pushed it away."

"I can't help it, Devon," I snapped. "My music means the world to me. I wasn't at my limit when he told me he wanted me to stop."

"But don't you think you should stop before you meet your limit?"

"No. It's called a limit for a reason. That's where you stop and draw the line. I had a signal. I was going to play it. I passed out before I could. Life happens sometimes."

"This isn't a 'life happens sometimes' situation," he cried out. "Don't you get it, Mel? You are putting your music before yourself to the point where you are refusing to accept help when you need it."

I looked away from him.

"You put your life at risk tonight. I mean it, you could have died."

"That would be incredibly unlikely."

"That's not the point!" he snapped. "Do you not understand what I am trying to say?"

"I do," I stated, as I looked back up at him. "You're telling me I fucked up, and I know I did. But music is my life. It's the most important thing in my life. It's my number one. Not family. Not friends. My drumming always comes first, even before myself. I get that it's not healthy, but after years and years of dreaming of being part of a band, I am finally part of one. They want me. They like me a lot. I am proving myself to them every day, and sometimes that means I have to sacrifice myself for the sake of my band. I don't always like doing it, but I refuse to let anything stand between me and my music."

"You are what's standing between you and your music," Devon stated. He sniffled and wiped at his eyes. "I love you so much, Mel. I was terrified that this was going to kill you. You love music, but is it really worth dying over?"

"Yes," I stated without hesitation. And I knew that that wasn't the right answer. I loved my music, but it was becoming an unhealthy obsession. What Devon said was right. I may not have died tonight, but if I continued to put my drumming and the band before myself, I could die. The band needed actual time off from playing, not just a playing once a week sort of ordeal. We needed an actual break. I needed time to recover properly, and that meant no concerts for a while. As devastating as that was, I knew it was the healthy choice to make.

Taking a step closer to Devon, I murmured, "I am so sorry. I really fucked up tonight."

Devon wasted no time in stomping up to me to hug me properly. "I'm sorry for yelling."

"You had a right to. Just like everyone else." Pulling back, I leaned up to kiss him. "I love you, too. So much."

He chuckled. "Proves how much you really love your music, huh?"

"I'm not kidding about it being the most important thing in my life."

"I have no doubt about it. I'm glad it is." He cupped my cheeks and puckered his lips. "If you keep that determination running, you are going to make it. I have no doubt about it."

Placing my hands over his, I smiled up at him. "You really are my cheerleader, aren't you?"

"Your biggest fan." He kissed my forehead. "Always." He kissed my lips.

^^^

Before I went to bed, I promised Jeanie I would call Brody in the morning to explain what happened. I asked him out to lunch at the diner next to the club we performed at the prior night, because after I met with him, I wanted to apologize to Mark Davis. I was a dick to him, and after the scene I made, I had to apologize.

Brody sat in a booth in the corner of the small diner, and he has already ordered me a strawberry lemonade. I hugged him before I sat down, and he quirked an eyebrow at me. "I think this is the first time you've invited me out to a lunch that you planned to pay for," he teased. "What's the occasion?"

"Something happened yesterday at my concert, and I wanted to tell you in person."

Brody perked up, most likely hoping it was really good news. But when he noticed I wasn't equally excited, he panicked. Reaching out across the table to grab my hand, he hurriedly asked, "What happened?"

"I passed out during a song."

His grip on my hand tightened, and his jaw clenched. "What happened? From the beginning, please."

I explained my exhaustion to him, which he had noticed over the past few weeks, and why James wanted me to cancel to when I passed out in the middle of a song.

"At least the bump isn't very noticeable," he muttered to himself as he inspected my forehead. "You know, this is exactly what I was worried about with you joining a band. That you were going to overwork yourself into exhaustion and eventually hurt yourself. I know you, Mel. I know what you can be like when it comes to your music. But I also know that this was inevitable since you were going to do whatever the hell you wanted, anyway. Now you know for next time not to let your exhaustion get this bad, right?"

"Right."

"Good. I never want to think about you passing out in the middle of a show again. Take better care of yourself."

"We're going to be taking a month long break after New Year."

"Good. You need it."

Brody dropped the subject after that, and we enjoyed the rest of our lunch. He offered to go with me next door to speak with the manager, but I promised I would be fine on my own. Besides, if Brody came with me, Mark would most likely think that I was being told to come here when it was really of my own volition.

The club would not be open until later tonight, but there were still people inside setting up for the day. I asked one worker if I could speak with the manager. He seemed a little worried about bringing him out, most likely thinking I was going to yell at Mark, but it was more than likely going to be the other way around.

The worker led me over to the bar, and I spotted Mark behind the counter going over liquor inventory with another employee. When he saw me, he smirked. "Good to see you're still alive."

"I deserve that," I said as I sat down. "I came here to formally apologize for what happened last night. It was a stupid thing to keep pushing myself like that, and I promise that if you ever hire us to play again, it won't happen again."

"I know it won't," Mark stated. "If you do it again, then you're an idiot and don't actually care about your music. You're still a rookie, so I can forgive you. But from now on, you ought to look after yourself and make sure shit like that doesn't happen again. If you really care about your music, you'll be performing so you don't have to scare your audience and the rest of your band."

I nodded firmly. "I understand, sir. I won't let it happen again."

"Good. And be sure to let your band know the next time you see them that this doesn't change my opinion of you guys. I still like your music, and I do plan to have you come back sometime."

My smile expanded as I nodded quickly. "Thank you, Mark."

Mark chuckled as he turned to face a different worker, who walked up next to him. He stopped smiling and followed the girl. The woman he was talking to before stood in front of me and smirked. "I'm assuming he wasn't the first person to reprimand you today?"

Sighing, I said, "Oh, yeah. I'm getting sick of it, but, hey, I kind of deserve it."

"Yeah, I saw you last night," she said. "Turns out a doctor was in the crowd last night, and she told us you'd have, at most, a concussion. At least you didn't need to go to the hospital."

"Yeah, that would have been a setback."

"At least you're doing okay now. I have to say I agree with Mark. Take better care of yourself, sugar. If you don't, it could be a lot worse."

"I know."

"What I heard, though, was some of the best live music I've heard in a while."

Growing shy under her intense gaze, I shifted my eyes to the stage. "You think so?"

"You four have a lot of talent. I really enjoyed listening to your singer. He has the voice of an angel- Or is it a her?"

"He's male. Just a cross-dresser." Placing my hand on the counter, I leaned my head towards her and said, "He really does have an incredible voice, doesn't he?"

"He really does. I know for a fact that he'll be singing for years. I just hope he'll be able to make it big enough for large groups of people to like him."

"There's no doubt about it. He'll make it."

"7 Years of Blood." She chuckled to herself. "It's also one of my favorite band names I've heard in a long time."

"You must hear a lot of bands working here," I commented.

"Nah. I don't work here. I have a little recording studio off highway twenty-seven. Many people go there to get their start. They make an EP, sometimes even an LP, and I've only seen three of them ever make it."

"Wow."

"Yeah. If you want to be famous but don't have the money to go to LA, you come to me. I help get you your album, and then the rest is up to you. Sometimes it's better to be here than LA, because you have to be incredibly talented to be booked there. Here, you just need to sound good to play, and then people who are visiting will check you out."

"Good thing the band plans to stay in town then, huh?" I chuckled.

"Yeah," she murmured. Holding out her hand, she said, "My name is Glinda Porter. Feel free to come to my studio sometime."

"How much to record?"

"For you, I'll make it an even five hundred."

"Really?"

"Yeah," she smirked. "I like you guys. I have a good feeling about it. You've just lived through an important moment in your rock-and-roll life. Means you guys are on a more mature path than the rest of the wannabes."

"Thank you, Glinda!"

She winked and walked off, most likely to find Mark.

James was going to hate to admit that my passing out wound up having a good outcome.