Chapter 14

Darryl Nelson

“Who the fuck is this?!”

~“I might ask the same thing of you.”~ The dude sounds all nonchalant on the other end of the line. I can feel my rage hitting boiling point.

“Where’s Stevie? Why are you answering her phone!” I’m practically vibrating, I’m so fucking angry at the asshole. I mean, who gives this pretty boy permission to answer my girlfriend’s phone? “Who. The fuck. Are you!”

~“Chill, dude!”~ The guy has the fucking audacity to fucking chuckle at me down the fucking phone. ~“Stevie is just a little indisposed right now. I’ll let her know you called, though.”~

“You mother~FUCKER!!~” I roar, but all I get in my ear is the dial tone. I continue to yell and growl, almost feral—almost ~blind~—with rage. My phone smashes into the wall, shattering. I’m vaguely aware of Smit trying to calm me down, but I’m beyond apoplectic at this point.

I’m also heartbroken.

Like, my heart actually feels like it’s being ripped in two…or more like a million little shards that feel like they are stabbing me with every breath I take.

I just can’t believe Stevie would run straight into the arms of some other guy like that. I mean, it isn’t even like I’ve done anything wrong, or we’ve had a fight or something…she just gives up on me. ~Gives up on us.~

Sniffing wetly—yeah, okay, so I may have started crying like a fucking pussy at some point in my ramblings—I push past my worried-looking bandmates as they try to pacify me and stumble out into the maze of corridors that make up the backstage area of the venue we’re playing tonight.

Kicking the bar of the fire exit, I’m finally outside; the cool, still night is a complete contradiction to the war currently raging inside of me, burning me to my very core.

With shaking hands, I go to retrieve my smokes from my back pocket, only to find I haven’t picked them back up after we’ve finished our set. I tip my head back and let out another stream of obscenities. There’s a husky chuckle from somewhere behind me, and I spin around on my heel to find the source.

Sitting on the fire escape stairs, with his legs outstretched in front of him, clad in his habitual leather trousers, his weight on his elbows and forearms on one step, his ass perched on a lower one, is Lukas Wolffe.

“Having a bad night?”

“Yeah…kinda,” I reply, running a hand down my face, surreptitiously wiping away any stray tears that are still lingering.

“Yep…I know that feeling.” He smiles wryly. “There’s only one thing that can make a man feel that upset.” He pauses to light a roll-up, the sweet, fragrant smell giving away the illegal contents of the cigarette. He speaks through the plume of smoke, “What’s her name?”

“Stevie.” Her name comes out as a sigh, and he nods.

When he holds out the joint to me, I hesitate for a moment, weighing the months of sobriety against the few moments of relaxation I know the weed will give me.

The call of the weed wins out.

My lungs fill. I hold it in for as long as I can, relishing the immediate floaty feeling before letting a slow stream of smoke drift away from me in soft white tendrils.

We smoke in silence for a while, just passing the joint back and forth until it’s all gone. Lukas clears his throat.

“You should come and hang on our bus tonight…take your mind off all your old lady bullshit.”

“Uhm…sure…thanks.” After not touching any drugs for so long, I’m feeling really fucking stoned, like gravity isn’t really working properly on my body.

“Cool,” Lukas drawls, pushing himself upright. “Well, I should probably get ready for the show, huh.” I cackle like a fucking hyena or something—fuck! I’m ~really~ fuckin’ stoned!—and nod like one of those shitty nodding dogs. Weed has never made me feel like this before. That must be stronger than the shit my dad gets in. He grins lazily at me, showing all his teeth like the fucking Cheshire cat, which makes me laugh harder. “See ya on the bus.”

***

My head lolls back against the back of the sofa cushions that line the wall of the ~Sons of Hyperion’s~ tour bus. It is much bigger and more spacious than the one we are stuck sharing.

As soon as they leave the stage, the guys from the band start partying. I’ve never seen so many half-naked women in real life, and I’m pretty sure the guitarist, a dark-haired foreign guy called Miggy, is getting it on with one of the said half-naked ladies, just out in the open where anyone and everyone can see.

The only guy that isn’t joining in with the groupies is the drummer, Owen, who is Lukas’s younger brother, and I know from talking to him that he has a wife and a couple of young kids back home. Although that isn’t stopping him from partaking in the gallons of booze and copious amounts of drugs floating around.

I become very well re-acquainted with my old friends—Jack and Daniels—gulping back shot after shot of the dark amber liquid. I welcome the burn every time I swallow, and now, the drunken numbness is encasing me in its grip.

Feeling eyes upon me, I slowly raise my head and find Lukas grinning at me from behind a gyrating young female. “Can you still remember her name?” I frown, not understanding his question, and he rolls his eyes good-humoredly. “Your old lady…still remember her name?” I nod slowly. “Then you’re not having a good enough time!”

He grips the hips of the girl dancing for him, pulling her down to whisper something in her ear. She looks at me and smiles shyly, tucking her long dark hair behind her ears.

Lukas slaps her ass as she walks away from him, sliding down next to me and wrapping her arms around mine. “Lukas says you need some love tonight.” I think I shake my head, but I’m suddenly really feeling the effects of the alcohol. “I’ve always loved drummers…they always have the best sense of rhythm and stamina.”

She reaches into her bra and pulls out a little silver foil square. I watch as she carefully unfolds it, revealing a little mound of white powder. Sticking her finger in between bright red lips, she sucks on it, pulling it out with a loud pop and dabbing it into the powder. “Open,” she says softly, holding her finger to my lips.

I obey silently, letting her rub it onto my gums. Immediately, I taste the medicinal tang of cocaine, followed by the slight numbing on the gums she’s just spread it over. I take the rest from her, tapping a little out onto the back of my hand and sniffing it up. She giggles, taking it back and taking a bump of her own.

Soon, I feel like I’m floating high above all my fucking problems. Up here, there is no Stevie ignoring me, there are no overbearing parents, and there is no band giving me hell for playing with someone else. This is it.

Just me and euphoric, blissful nothingness.

The girl has moved onto my lap at some point, grinding herself over my crotch, her big titties bouncing around in front of my face. I can hear Lukas cackling, and when I find him, he’s knuckles deep inside another girl. He winks at me. “Told ya I’d help you forget that bitch’s name.”

I think I offer him a smile, but my whole fucking face is numb now. The girl sitting in my lap has now moved on, trying to capture my lips with her over-inflated ones. Her smell is all wrong…~I want my patchouli-scented girl.~

I push her off, stumbling to my feet unsteadily. I’m vaguely aware of her cursing at me as I walk away, winding my way off the crowded bus.

The fresh air seems to refresh the drugs and alcohol in my system, making my stomach roil, threatening to expel its contents onto the dirty asphalt. I wretch, my hands on my thighs as I lean over, spitting out vile-tasting saliva.

“Darryl?” Dalia’s voice is full of worry, and I soon feel her cool hands on my cheeks. “Darryl…can you walk?” I wave away her concern, swallowing down any other trickles of nausea, but my attempt at looking in control is destroyed as I wobble on my unsteady legs. “Do you think…I’m going to get Mikey.”

“No!” I grab her hand before she can leave. “I just…I just need some fresh air. I’ll be fine.”

Her hazel eyes bounce between mine, assessing my condition as she chews on her lower lip. Eventually, she gives me one nod of her head. With her hand still in mine, I allow her to lead me away from the buses, from the noise, and, more importantly, from prying eyes. The last thing I fucking need right now is being narked on to my folks by Mikey.

~This isn’t a spiral.~

~This isn’t a spiral.~

~This isn’t a spiral.~

~This isn’t a spiral…~I have a handle on it now.

~Hopefully.~