Page 105 of Fractured Frets

I took a seat between Kyle and Lewis at the long table on the far side of the bar. The mouthwatering aroma of sizzling steak filled the air. Whiskeys, vodkas, and bottles I’d never seen before filled the bar’s shelves that reached toward the ceiling. Along the adjacent wall, a glass temperature-controlled wine cabinet took up the entire space. Hundreds of bottles lay resting, ready to be consumed. Didn’t matter how queasy my stomach was, I was always ready for a nice red.

We were quick to order food, then conversation and laughter filled the air as we drank wine and caught up. Everhide had recently signed Kill Hive, the band that had supported them during their last tour, to their label. Kill Hive would be stoked. I zoned out when the discussions turned to kids and families but tuned in again when Gemma said Everhide planned to record a new album later in the year. Kara’s fashion label had expanded into several new boutiques, and Lexi was working on projects for Rolling Stone magazine, photographing artists for articles during the band’s downtime. After their many ups and downs, our friends seemed so content. Happy. Fulfilled.

Balanced.

My band wasn’t there yet.

Well . . . I certainly wasn’t.

As dinner was placed in front of us and more wine was poured, Kyle raised his glass. In his leather jacket, plain white button-up, and sporting a new short haircut with no undercut, he looked more like a businessman than a chart-topping rock star. “Here’s to The Flintlocks. May you keep selling out tours across the globe.”

It still spins my head we’ve done that.

“Keep recording with us, and no one else,” he continued.

Deal. We love working with our friends.

“Keep topping the charts.”

Okay, if you insist.

“Gain millions of new fans each day.”

We wouldn’t be here without them.

“Make millions.”

Success has some bonuses.

“Always cherish each other. And live with love, in happiness, and with good health.”

Hell yeah.

“Cheers.” We said in sync, chinked glasses and sipped our reds. Hmmm. That’s a good drop.

But Kyle’s words had struck a nerve, rattling and unwinding something loose inside of me. More success puts more pressure on us to do the same again. Create more hits. Play more tours. Do more promotion. My chest tightened and my head throbbed with a low, dull beat. What was wrong with me? I loved my band, our success, and performing. Music lived in every cell in my body. But something new had invaded that space during the past several months and fought to overrule that. Maddy.

How would I see her with all that extra commitment?

Would I ever find a balance between her and music?

I had to.

Kyle nudged his arm against mine and lowered his voice. “Hey? You good, man?”

“Always.” Liar.

“You sure about that?” Worry darkened his eyes. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks.” I grunted. We couldn’t all be the latest Calvin Klein model like he was. “Big night last night. Tired from touring. That’s it.”

“I’ve seen you and Mads in the headlines. Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” I fidgeted with my glass resting on the table. “Going public has had its ups and downs. I can’t be in the same room as another woman without cheating allegations hitting the gossip sites. It’s fucked up. It’s not ideal, going on tour after going public.” Although it wasn’t the beginning of our relationship. We’d been together for more than a year, but Maddy constantly worried.

Social media posts about me and the guys meeting overzealous fans, being dragged into too many selfies, and being photographed by the paparazzi just when some person rushed past security and thought it would be perfectly fine to hug and kiss you had never bothered me before. But that had all changed since I’d been with Maddy. I didn’t want to be on the phone every day with her, having to explain every bullshit shot and the crap we had to deal with. I loved her. I was faithful. I was hers. End of story.

She should’ve trusted me by now. What more could I do to prove that I was hers? Something would come to mind...I’d deal with that later.

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