do,” I said. “He’s passed out under a pile of chicks in Xander’s room right now.”
“How do you know that?”
“Xan texted. Says he slept in Dean’s room this morning because Dean turned his bed into, and I quote him here, ‘pussy stew.’”
Gabe groaned. “You show up with that hungover crab factory, they’re not gonna be happy. The disc jockeys at that station sound like super-nerds, and major fans of yours truly. They wanted to interview me about my podcast and the basses I build.”
“Whatever. It’s local radio. I can nerd out with them about the wonder that is Gabe Romanko all day long. I know you better than you know yourself, brother.” I tussled his hair, not gently.
Then I headed for the bathroom while he muttered something like, “You’re gonna regret this.”
I searched through the crap that was spilled across the bathroom counter in my haste to get ready for the show last night, grabbing two bottles of pills from the many on offer—the yellow ones and the blue ones. We had this “band doctor” who prescribed us pretty much anything, which probably wasn’t brilliant, but it was handy.
I threw back a couple of the yellow pills, the ones with the name on the label I couldn’t even pronounce, and washed them down with my coffee. I wasn’t supposed to take them regularly, just to control my adrenaline—and my pounding heart, my shaky voice and limbs—when I had to do something like an interview. I rarely, almost never, did interviews. But for Gabe…
I took a deep breath and told myself I could do this, even though I knew I’d hate every second of it. I was already feeling shaky just thinking about it. I threw back some more coffee and did some controlled breathing, looking myself square in the eyes in the mirror.
Nothing bad will happen.
It’s only in your head.
As I reemerged from the bathroom, Gabe said, “Do I need to remind you that Dickhead Dean gives shit interviews?”
“I’ll do the interview. Dean can troll Tinder for all I care. But I’m dragging him there with me to punish him for being a twat.”
“Don’t insult twats like that, man.” Gabe grinned, his eyes half-slits. “And why are you mad at him now?”
“I’m not mad. But he ditched my birthday party before midnight to host an orgy, and he didn’t even do it in his own bed. Just saying.”
“And that’s why we call him Dickhead Dean.”
“Yup. Look alive.” I tossed the bottle of blue pills at him.
He caught it.
“Take that and get some sleep. Stay here in my room so no one knows where you are. Then they can’t bother you for a while. Turn off your phone. I’ll wake you up in time for dinner.”
Gabe squinted at the label on the bottle. “I don’t like sleeping pills. They make me sleepy.”
I just kinda laughed. “You’re a mess.”
He looked over at me soberly; I knew that look well. “You really okay to do this?”
“I’m good.” I took another sip of coffee. “Beta blockers.”
“Thought you weren’t supposed to drink coffee with those.”
I abandoned my takeout cup on the way to the door. “Yes, dear.”
“Or booze,” he said.
I turned back to him and gave him my most angelic face. “I’m at least eighty-percent sober right now, brother.”
He smirked. “Quit complaining. I’ll get you drunk again tonight.” He was clutching the pill bottle to his chest now, like it was a kitten or something.
I pointed at it and gave him a stern look. “Don’t take too many of those.”
“I won’t. Happy birthday!” he called after me as I opened the door.
“It was yesterday,” I reminded him, pausing in the doorway. “You can stop saying that.”
“Yeah, but I was drunk yesterday and I don’t remember half of it. I’m buying you dinner tonight and we’re celebrating again.”
“Good. Because you owe me one for doing this interview with Dean.”
He grinned.
Then I walked out. But I would always remember his last words to me as I shut that door.
“I love you, brother,” he said.
Chapter One
Cary
The Day I Tried to Live
Five years later…
June
I stepped out of the shower to find my phone vibrating on the bathroom counter. I glanced at the screen.
Courteney.
My little sister was calling. Again.
I tried to ignore it as I turned up Soundgarden and towel dried my hair. I hadn’t shaved in a week, so I took my time as I lathered up and started shaving.
The members of the Players had this “vortex playlist” thing they did, where each of them made a playlist of