Collaring Chaz (Dante's Infernal #2) - Joel Abernathy Page 0,8
you saying?” Rafael demanded, his voice tight with agitation even though he obviously didn’t disagree. “You want to kick him out of the band?”
“Of course not,” Dante said quickly. “That’s not what I said.”
“No, but I will,” Drake interrupted. “We’re on a time crunch with this new album. We need to get the tour started by August, so it wouldn’t hurt to have a reliable studio musician come in to lay down the tracks he can’t handle, and Chaz can carry on with the tour.”
Anger filled my chest to the point where I was sure if I let out the breath I was holding, I’d shoot fire out of my mouth like a dragon. I waited for someone to say that was bullshit, too.
And waited.
No one did.
“He won’t even notice,” Dante reasoned. “It doesn’t have to be a thing.”
“I could make a few calls,” Cash finally said. “It’s up to you, babe.”
My heart was hammering in my chest as I waited for Dante’s response. Raf’s dead silence was just as unnerving.
When Dante finally spoke, his voice was laced with defeat. “We’ll give it one more shot tomorrow. If we can’t use the take, we’ll just move on and say we decided to use the cuts.”
The conversation drifted to other topics like the tour schedule and the album cover art. I would’ve liked to be at least included in the discussions, but that was back when I was delusional enough to think I was actually part of the group.
I rushed over to the couch to grab the book, and found it stuffed between the cushions where I thought it would be. I took it and left as fast as possible.
The walk back to my apartment felt longer than usual, and by the time I made it inside, my body felt like lead. All I wanted to do was crawl into bed, hide under the covers, and sleep for about a week. I knew the only way I’d even be able to get a few hours was if I took a couple of the pills I’d been prescribed by the last doc I saw and washed them down with some Hennessy.
The darkness of my bedroom helped--sort of. I didn’t have to look at myself, but I had a conversation playing in my head on repeat, joining all the rest, so I plugged in my earbuds and blasted Sabbath as loud as I could without doing permanent damage.
Chapter 4
Rafael
Man, it had been a hell of a couple of days.
First, my mom called me to tell me my younger brother had gotten in trouble at school again--and to lay on the guilt hints about how it sure would be nice if I came for another visit. Then, after a disastrous recording session, Chaz completely ditched the following day.
From what I’d heard, he had texted Dante some bullshit about being out for the rest of the week because he was sick. The others acted disappointed, but I knew they were inwardly relieved because now they didn’t have to feel bad about getting a fill-in. Cash already had a bassist on speed dial, and we’d gotten through three songs that day alone, but I still felt shitty about it.
It didn’t feel right without Chaz there. And yeah, he hadn’t been himself lately, but the band wasn’t itself without him.
Neither was I.
That evening, after I got out of the studio, I decided to go check on him instead of going to the club like I’d originally planned.
Besides, he’d missed shit he needed to know. Namely Drake’s not-so-subtle hinting that the label wanted us back on tour before August, which meant the album’s deadline would have to be bumped up.
I knocked on Chaz’s door, and when he didn’t answer immediately, I knocked again. I knew he was home because I’d seen his motorcycle outside, hooked up to its locked post. It was late for even him to still be sleeping, so I started to get a little worried.
We’d each had a key to the other’s apartment for as long as I could remember, so I unlocked the door and looked around. The living room was empty, but there was a stack of empty bottles by the couch that hadn’t been there the last time I was over.
Man, that was a lot of damage in a short period of time. Was that why he’d been such a wreck lately?
I walked further into the apartment and called, “Chaz?”