hometown flavor.”
“Can we change the subject?” I asked.
My phone started to ring.
I didn’t recognize the number but I answered just to not have to talk about Sab anymore.
The voice on the other end of the line was serious and somber.
He asked my name.
He introduced himself as a police officer.
And he…
I looked at Mia.
“Bree, what’s wrong?” she asked.
I tossed the phone toward Mia and fell to the floor.
My mother was dead.
3
SAB
The five of us stood outside SLECK Records, dressed as nice as filthy rock stars like us could dress. We still had ripped jeans and t-shirts on, but we threw a nice-looking jacket over the shirts and we looked semi-presentable.
Toby was the first to the microphone.
“The band will be making a statement on the passing of Mitchy,” Toby said. “There will be no questions asked. I ask you to let them speak and then we will release more information on the tribute show as we approach it. As of now, the plan is to hold an acoustic set in the parking lot here. Free for fans. We will be asking for donations. All the money will go to support those in recovery and in need of recovery.”
“So are you telling us the entire band is now clean after this tragedy?” someone yelled.
This was the bullshit I feared.
I didn’t want money involved in Mitchy’s death.
Toby brought it up.
We argued it.
Then the fucking executives at SLECK stepped in and said we needed to do something.
It was bullshit.
Yeah, Mitchy lost his life to drugs. He loved to party. That was his way of going out. It was sad that he was alone in some motel. Did he have a problem? Yeah. Could he have used help? Yeah. Would he have stayed clean? No way in hell.
And the band itself… clean…
“The personal lives of the band aren’t what we’re here to talk about,” Toby said.
“Isn’t it a bit hypocritical?” the same person yelled.
I jumped forward and knocked Toby out of the way.
“Sab, don’t,” Nash said.
Too late.
“If you want some cheap, gossipy story, go find Raunchy Recks. Got it? It doesn’t matter about us. I don’t even want to collect money for this. It wasn’t our idea. Mitchy was our good friend. An original member of the band. And unless you knew him personally, let me say this one time. Get your censors ready… Go. Fuck. Yourself.”
I stepped back from the mic.
“That was subtle,” Jay said.
“Eat shit, Jay,” I said.
Nash hurried to the mic. “As you all can see here, this has hit us hard. We actually just saw Mitchy not too long ago. He always passed through the city at random times. Sometimes he looked okay. Sometimes he didn’t. This time he didn’t. We’re not here to lecture anyone about drug use, abuse or help. We’re here to just say a few words about Mitchy. Some of our early hits came from his crazy mind…”
Nash droned on and had no interest in being there.
When he finished talking, I went back to the mic again.
“I just wanted to say that Mitchy was a good person. I know that’s cliché to say. He was a burned-out rock star junkie. His fate has always been this. To die alone. To die because of drugs. So let’s not hide from that. But the person. Mitchy. He was a good guy. I’ll never forget him. I hope nobody ever does.”
I walked away.
Ditching the band wasn’t a good look for me or the band.
I knew they’d be pissed.
But I had to walk away.
I needed a minute to myself to cry.
I stood in the hallway and waited for the band.
I looked at my phone and told myself not to do it.
She hasn’t replied. She’s read the text. She’s read all the texts. She knows you text that mushy shit when you’re drunk.
I squeezed my phone in my hand.
The side door opened and I saw Nash first.
I touched my jaw. “Go ahead. One punch.”
“For what?” Nash asked.
“I bailed. I shouldn’t have done that.”
The rest of the band came through the door.
“Four punches,” I said. “I deserve it.”
The guys closed in on me, and instead of punching me, they hugged me.
The five of us hugged each other.
In that dimly lit hallway on the ground floor of the record company.
Someone’s hand balled up into a fist and hit my back a few times.
“We get it,” Jay said.
“I’ve been beating myself up,” Nash said. “I was harsh to him.”
“We all were,” Dex said.
“It was just the history of it all,” Reed said. “And we just didn’t