Page 16 of Líadan's Code

The screech makes me wince as the phone is ripped away from her.

“Who is this?” Draven growls, making me roll my eyes. They’re both idiots. Their open relationship is toxic, and their love has become twisted over the years. I’m not a therapist, but if it were solely up to me, I’d break them up.

Unfortunately, it’s not.

“Hello, Draven,” I drawl. “It’s Jordan Miles. You know, from Music Hoarde Records?”

“Fuck, I wish she hadn’t called you. I’m really sorry,” he mutters. “I’m trying to get her back into the hotel.”

“She said she got kicked out. Was she incorrect in this assumption?” I ask. Yeah, my tone gets a bit severe when the occasion needs it. This is the fourth call I’ve received this month and I’m dangerously close to sending them a babysitter.

“No, Sir,” he says. “I’m just going to smuggle her back to my room to sleep it off until we leave later today.”

“If you think you can do that without having the police called, go for it. If not, drag the guys out and sleep it off in the bus,” I insist. “Draven, I’m worried about her. She can’t continue like this.”

“I know, I know,” he says. I can imagine him bobbing his head as he rubs Lyrica’s shoulders. Draven may love her, but she needs more than he can give her.

I wish I could think differently, but I think she may end up dead in the next six months if things continue this way. It’s a shame, because I remember when Lyrica was filled with passion for the music and the joy of performing.

Over the years, the excitement of being in front of huge audiences has cooled, and I can tell she’s reaching for the drugs more and more often.

What blows my mind is that in a few hours, she’ll appear to be perfectly fine, and very unlike the mess she currently embodies.

“Draven, I’m sorry, I really think she needs to go to a facility to get clean. The issue is?—”

“If we force her, it won’t be pretty,” he grunts.

“It also won’t fucking work,” I rage, swiping my hand through my hair. Pulling on it hard, I close my eyes as I force the sting of pain to help me focus. I can’t lose my shit, people depend on me.

I’m sitting in my office in Los Angeles today for meetings and checking in with the bands I help handle all over the world. I would typically do this all remotely, but the executive board insisted that I was needed in person.

Blowing out a breath, I grab my address book and begin to flip through it for one of my last resorts. He’s a manager for the label, though he’s a hard ass.

I don’t think this tour will survive without a firm hand, and I can’t leave the country right now.

“I’m sending someone out to you,” I growl. “Do not fuck this up, Draven. I’m at my last straw. I have half a mind to fly out there?—”

“No!” he yells, louder than he probably expected to. “I mean, I’ll handle it. I haven’t been around as much as I should because we had another falling out. I’ll patch it up with her, and it should help the drug use.”

“That’s not healthy,” I remind him, leaning back in my chair. Fuck, it really shouldn’t be like this. I’m worried about Pull Down the Moon. I don’t know if they’re gonna make it.

“It’s going to have to do for now,” he grunts. “Come on, baby. Let’s go to bed.”

“Draven?” Lyrica asks, sounding so small.

Fuck me.

“I’m sending someone,” I repeat again, making sure he hears me. “He’ll meet you on the tour as soon as he can. Just… keep it together until he arrives, please?”

“I’ll do my best, boss,” he mumbles as he hangs up the phone.

“What happened here?” Laurence asks, brows rising. I’ve worked with him for a really long time, back when we first were getting the label set up. He’s on the executive board, and a good friend of mine.

“Fuck,” I sigh. “I need to send someone out to babysit Pull Down the Moon. Lyrica isn’t doing well.”

“Fantastic,” he mutters. “Get that handled and then come to the meeting. I’ll cover for you.”

Nodding, I make the call I really haven’t been looking forward to. We tried, but this is my last ditch effort.

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