Page 27 of Filthy Lovin Heroes

One

Tyler

“Don’t take this the wrong way Tyler but when was the last time you got fucked?” West asked, easing my new Porsche on the Los Angeles freeway. Being my personal assistant had a few perks. “Keep in mind, I’m not asking as one of your star-struck groupies but as your friend.”

“I can’t imagine the right way to take a question like that.” I mused, staring at the late freeway gridlock before us. I hoped it wouldn’t be like this all the way to the airport. A pleasant breeze from the open windows stirred the air in my Coupe.

I hadn’t even driven this car except down my driveway. These days I didn’t drive much. I missed that freedom, but honestly, I had so little free time it wasn’t worth keeping my license up. And my manager worried that if I got into an accident, suing the lead singer of The Kings was a lawyer’s wet dream.

“All I’m trying to say is, if you can’t remember the last time you got laid, that’s not a good sign.” West crammed another stick of gum into his mouth. He was trying to stop smoking, and it wasn’t going well, hence all the gum chewing.

“There’s more to life than getting laid,” I said, wishing I’d gone for the car’s convertible model. Feeling the fresh air rushing by me might help lift my mood. Not that there was much fresh air in LA or that we were moving enough to generate a breeze.

“Sure, there’s death, taxes, and the ever-present LA Freeway traffic but none of that is worth living for,” West argued.

I didn’t want to admit it, but he was right.

“Besides, doesn’t being a rock god exempt you from this kind of real-life crap?” West persisted. “Babysitting your friend’s little sister.” He shuddered theatrically then flipped off the driver behind us for tailgating us.

“Drop it, West.” My tone shut down his babble. Even though he was one of my personal assistants, he was also a friend. And I didn’t have many of those these days. Success made any kind of real relationship pretty damn difficult if not impossible.

Calling me a rock god was laying it on a bit thick, but it didn’t change the fact that I was heading to the airport to pick up Piper. And if I was a rock god, I wasn’t a happy one.

As lead vocalist for The Kings, our recent release hit every billboard chart, our upcoming tour was sold out, and we had advertisers begging us for endorsements. Our managers were thrilled. Judging by my house, cars, bank account, and career opportunities, my music career was successful. I’d worked my ass off to turn this dream into my reality. But I was beginning to wonder if it really was worth it.

I glanced in the passenger visor mirror. My reflection showed my shaggy brown curls which needed a haircut, and my beard could use a trim. A stylist could come out and take care of that for me later this week at the house.

I was glad for my dark sunglasses; they hid my blue eyes which now sported dark circles under them. I looked hung over when in fact I was stone cold sober. I avoided drugs and too much alcohol because I’d seen my fellow performers fall like dominoes because of them.

The result, however, was that at twenty-seven-years old I lived like a monk.

“I should see a doctor, maybe I’m sick.” I flipped the visor mirror closed.

West snapped his gum then glanced over at me. “Nah man, what you need is to get laid. That cures everything.”

No lie there, but that wasn’t going to be happening anytime soon with Piper around. Plus, I’d been jerking off with my hand so much, I should slap a ring on myself. Being on the road months on end meant a relationship was trying at best. Casual sex wasn’t my thing because I didn’t like wondering what was going to wind up in the tabloids because of my name. It turned out money could buy pretty much everything, except trust.

“So what’s she like?” He asked.

“Piper?”

“No, your mom.” West flashed me his cheesy trademark grin which was getting him a few acting auditions but no real roles besides playing the dead body in crime dramas. “Of course, Piper.”

“She just graduated college in Vermont, and she wants to work out here.”

“Actress or model?” West perked up. “What’s she look like? I could show her around.”

“I haven’t seen her since Harrison’s wedding five years ago. She looked like a teenage girl. Besides, she’s staying with me to avoid the likes of you.”

West tapped his chest with one hand like he was hurt. “Hey man, I’m just trying to help.”

“Keep your hands on the wheel.” I sipped my coffee trying to get some strength from it. I missed this, just regular talk with someone who didn’t want something from me.

I dreaded each sign speeding me closer to Los Angeles International Airport. I didn’t want a house guest even to help out Harrison. But he’d been my best friend growing up. Before I hit puberty Harrison was the only thing that prevented me getting beat up daily in middle school. Now back in New York, his wife needed to be in the hospital until their first baby arrived. That wasn’t too much to ask to get his kid sister settled out here.

Harrison believed in me when no one else did. Sure I was exhausted, but I could do this for him.

Besides how much trouble could it be to get Piper settled in her own place?

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