Nashville for another bit. Never staying in one place too long. It made me restless. I’d been on the road since I left Oak Island when I was eighteen-years-old.
We started playing small arenas and venues, gathering and growing our own following. Living outta whatever the fuck we could at the moment to get from one place to another.
The last eleven years of my life moved at a fast pace. I preferred it that way. It was easier to keep my demons at bay. The second I stopped moving, they’d show their fuckin’ face, loud and proud. Ready to drag me under at any costs.
Being drunk and high simply took the edge off.
Beck was fourteen years older than I was, and from the first moment we met, he took me under his wing. I didn’t know shit about shit until he came along. He’d been with several popular bands for the last two decades before Life of Debauchery blew the fuck up.
The forty-four-year-old grew up in the limelight, following in the footsteps of his father, rock legend Aldus Rice. He was a native Brit. The womanizing asshole scored more pussy with his thick British accent than I did with my Southern one.
Beck was everything my father lacked. I guess you could say he was the father figure I never had.
Supportive.
Understanding.
There for me.
My old man wasn’t exactly what I’d call a role model for anyone other than a fuckin’ boy scout.
“We can do that,” the blonde agreed, tearing me away from my tormenting thoughts.
I hadn’t spoken to my parents since I left. The only person I was still in touch with from Oak Island was my sister Giselle, and even that was few and far between.
There was nothing left for me to say to anyone who once meant something to me, including my very best friend, Harley Jameson, or more like Harley Pierce now. Jackson and Harley got married several years ago. The motherfucker made all his dreams come true exactly how I did.
Jackson Pierce, star quarterback of the North Carolina Panthers, was a god among the NFL. The quarterback and my girl were a family now, couple of kids and all. Living the American fuckin’ dream.
Better them than me.
Harley deserved the world, and in my eyes, the best man won our lifelong battle of who her hero truly was. They belonged together, and I made it happen by destroying our friendship in the process. Except that was neither here nor there anymore. It was in the past, only showcasing itself in my life when I was sober.
Which again, was few and far between. Just the way I liked it.
Pointing to the redheaded twins, Jude intervened, “I want both of them.” He shrugged. “What can I say? I want to see if the curtains match the drapes.”
I laughed, couldn’t help it.
Our thirty-three-year-old bass guitarist, Jude, was our band’s co-founder and just as fuckin’ bad as Beck and I were. Out of all of us, he was the one who had his shit together the most, and that wasn’t saying much.
“And I’ll take all the pussy that is left,” Stixx added with three girls on each arm. The son of a bitch was a dirty fuckin’ dog. Barking up any tree that had big tits and a huge ass.
Our drummer was a thirty-four-year-old man whose balls just dropped by the amount of pussy he fucked. I swear you’d think they just did. His personal favorite was a reverse gang bang. He loved to see how many girls he could make come at once.
We all lived in a constant state of depravity. It made things more interesting that way. When you had the world at your fingertips and no one told you no, there were no limits to what we could do. It was all fair game. I’d been arrested more times than I could remember, always getting off with a slap on my hand.
’Cuz at the end of the day, money always spoke louder than any words I could ever sing.
Chapter 16
“A kid once asked to me, “Do you get hangovers?” I replied, “To get hangovers you have to stop drinking.”
-Motorhead
<>Cash<>
“Mmm,” I groaned, lying face down in what felt like a mattress.
Before I even opened my eyes, I reached for my bottle of whiskey. Searching for it somewhere near me. I never passed the fuck out without my booze close by. It didn’t matter how fucked up I was, whiskey was just like my guitar. Purely another extension of who I was.
Once I