Page 3 of Rock Bottom

“My aunt owns a bunch of chalets in Ohio. They’re nice, secluded, far from any big cities or news outlets.” Gabe shrugged. “The perfect place to sober up. My aunt can be discreet.”

I pulled back and stared at my manager in horror. “Ohio? What the fuck is in Ohio except for corn and cows?”

They ignored me, continuing their conversation.

“Security will be a nightmare,” Sam said with a grunt. “We’d have to hire outside help. Someone local to the area. Someone trustworthy.”

Oh, God. A new babysitter? I gripped my head. It was bad enough that they were talking about stashing me in the middle of nowhere for a month, but now I was going to have to be stuck there with a stranger?

“This can’t be happening. Tell me this is a joke. You can’t do this to me! Please! Come on, Sam. I’ll go back to rehab. I’ll go to the hospital. Anywhere else except for redneck central.”

He frowned and pulled his hand away. “It’s not up to me. The label execs don’t want you making headlines again, Dante. At least not like this. You promised to keep all this queer stuff on the down low, remember?”

How could I forget? It was all Sam ever talked about. He was worried about the backlash, always telling me people would be confused if they found out I was bi, that the rest of the guys didn’t want to be seen as a gay rock band. That if I was too loud, too proud, too out about who I was, I could lose everything. And maybe he was right.

I turned to Sam, pleading. “At least let me bring Orlando with me instead of some new guy I don’t even know.”

Sam shook his head. “I let Orlando go this morning.”

“What?” I said in unison with Remi, who paled.

Remi swept up in front of Sam. “You fired Orlando? Without talking to me?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “I don’t need to clear decisions through you, Remi.”

Gabe frowned. “Why’d you fire Orlando? He was nice.”

“You know why,” Sam said, glaring at Remi.

Remi crossed his arms and looked away. But we all knew why, and it had nothing to do with me. Sam had been looking for a reason to fire him for months, ever since that tabloid ran that photo of Remi and Orlando holding hands. He thought there was something going on between the two of them, and that it compromised Orlando’s ability to protect the band. It was bullshit. Even if there was something between Remi and Orlando, it didn’t mean Orlando was bad at his job.

I let out a forlorn groan and sank against the wall, plopping my butt on the floor. Jake and Orlando were my only friends. I didn’t want to be away from them. Without my friends, or the music to fall back on, I’d have nothing. It’d be thirty days of absolute boredom.

This was the worst possible thing that could happen.

No, Dante. The worst thing would be getting kicked out of After Atom, which is exactly what will happen if something doesn’t change. I sighed. The band had saved my life, propelled me to stardom and given me screaming fans all over the world. After Atom had made me into a household name. None of it would’ve been possible if my band mates hadn’t recruited me.

Back when I joined, they were just another smalltime band uploading sample tracks online, hoping to make it big. They had all the makings of something great, even then, but they were missing a singer with the right voice. They seemed to think it was me, and the label agreed. We got picked up by a major label six months later and the rest was history.

Now, it was annual tours, concerts every other month, interviews on TV, branded T-shirts, and charity events. We’d even been invited to perform at the White House. Next stop? The fucking Super Bowl halftime show, baby. Maybe.

But none of it would happen if I OD’d. None of it would happen at all if I didn’t get my shit together. I didn’t think I was that bad off, but I had to be if Jake was worried about me. What choice did I have but to try things their way? The worst that could happen was another relapse, and I’d been through plenty of those already.

I sighed and slowly removed my sunglasses. The light hammered against my head as I squinted up at Sam. “When do I leave?”

“Sorry, slick. Looks like you pulled the short straw.”

I scowled at Xion as he slid the folder containing my new assignment across Boone’s desk. Xion was a full foot shorter than me and small enough I could pick him up and throw him like a javelin if I wanted. Believe me, I wanted to half the time. The kid was a right git who loved to get under my skin just for the fun of it. There was a chance he might grow out of it since he was only twenty, but I doubted it.

Unfortunately, assaulting my boss’s husband was out of the question. Boone had earned my respect, and with it, my unwavering loyalty, except when it came to his choice of spouses.

Boone ran his hand through his thick red beard and finished filling two coffee mugs. If Xion was short, Boone was shorter, but everyone was short compared to me. The world wasn’t built for men my height. What Boone lacked in height, he made up for in confidence. It didn’t take a big man to fire a big gun, and I’d seen Boone snipe pinprick targets half a mile away.

“Be nice, Pup.” Boone brought the mugs over and practically dumped Xion out of his chair. “Don’t go antagonizin’ the employees. Especially when they’re bigger than you. Sorry about that, Church.”

Boone placed one mug in front of me and I frowned. After three years, he’d finally remembered that I took tea instead of coffee, but like most Americans, he had no bloody idea how to make a proper cuppa. He’d delivered it with no saucer, no milk, no biscuit. The worst part? The water was tepid, and the tea bag on the side. Might as well have brought me a cup of mud. No wonder the Americans threw all their tea in the harbor. They were confused about how to prepare it.

I moved the tea aside, irritated when I saw the cup had left a damp ring behind on top of the folder. “Rangar is next in the rotation to take a job, not me.”

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