Page 49 of Fractured Frets

“We’ve run a quick promo today in association with some of the local radio stations and doubled the number of VIP meet-and-greet ticket-holders before tonight’s show. Tomorrow, we have the planned interviews and photoshoots with GQ and NME before soundcheck.” She scrolled through her screen. “On Saturday, I’ve squeezed in a visit to a children’s hospital for lunch, followed by your show. Finally, on Sunday, I pulled every string possible and secured a table at the prestigious London Arts Charity Gala dinner. Blake and Falcon have also arranged for you to perform a few songs at the after-party. Any questions?”

What the fuck? I rubbed my tired eyes. “That’s too much on top of our three huge shows. We can’t fit all that in around rest.”

“We absolutely can.” Flint’s eyes lit up as he clapped and rubbed his hands together. “It’ll be awesome.”

I had no issues with promo. Putting smiles on kids’ faces during our hospital visits made me count my blessings every day. My buggered hip was nothing compared to some illnesses those kids faced. That was why I didn’t complain about my aches and pains...Well, not too often. But another gig playing at an after-party? Then straight to Edinburgh for our next shows? Fuck. I stretched my hip and massaged the dull ache. This much pain before performing wasn’t good.

“Something wrong?” Lewis leaned over and ruffled my hair.

“No...but yes.” Smiling, I smacked his hand away as worry injected lead into my bones. I sat upright and stretched, bending from side to side to release the tension in my joint. “I’ve just got to watch my hip. Ease up a bit.”

“You fuck Maddy too much again?” Cole arched one eyebrow and threw me a devilish grin.

“There is no such thing as too much fucking.” Playfully smirking, I shook my head. “But we have a lot of shows coming up, additional shows, and we’re not getting much downtime. I don’t want us to burn out.”

Worry darkened Flint’s eyes. “Slip? Since when have you said no to promo?”

“Since now.” Pain stabbed and radiated across my lower back.

“You want us to skip it?” Flint leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “We’re in this together. If you want to wind things back, say so.”

Maddy’s voice sifted through my head. I had to stand up for what I needed. Flint would do anything I asked him to, but it would crush him not to perform. After everything he’d been through following the loss of Phil, finding music again, and thriving on stage, he needed to live every second of this tour. I couldn’t take that away from him. I wouldn’t let him down. I didn’t want to be the brakes on the band.

I had a job to do. Perform. I was the life of the party. The crazy one. I had a reputation to maintain and expectations to meet.

I closed my eyes and drew air deep into my lungs. Our schedule played through my mind. London would be overloaded with promo and shows, but the cities after that wouldn’t be so bad. I dug my fingers into my thighs—anything to distract me from the throb hammering in my back and side. “No, I’m good. Just making sure you slow fuckers can keep up.”

“You know we can.” Lewis threw his arm around Cole and hollered, “It’s going to be awesome.”

But that night, I limped around on stage like an old man. I fucking hated it. I had to take an extra pain-killer after the show and a sleeping pill just to get some rest.

During our second performance in London, I barely left my mic, but I played my goddamn heart out. However, the following morning, I woke to a new low. Reputable entertainment sites and tabloids had reported I was nothing but a dead weight, dragging the show down by being unengaging on stage. Some had even said that if I stopped flying across the globe and seeing two women, I’d do a better job. What the fuck? The articles hit harder than normal. They were all bullshit.

Utter bullshit!

Just as we were about to go on stage for our third London show, Blake caught my arm.

“Hey?” He jutted his chin at me. “What was with last night? Was it just an off day or don’t you want to fucking be here?”

“Fuck you.” I yanked my arm free of his hold. “My hip was playing up. That’s it.”

“Do you need Jade or someone else to look at it again?”

“No. It’s fine.” But it already throbbed, and pain twanged across my lower back.

“Good.” He dipped his chin, but steel set in his gaze. “I got a call from our sponsors, Rail Energy Drinks, threatening to pull their support because you played like a sack of dull shit. That’s not the vibe they want for their brand. I’ve talked them ’round for now. So don’t piss them off any further.” He pointed toward the auditorium. “Those fans out there have come to see you be electric on stage. They’ve paid a fuck-load to be here. Give them a show. We don’t need any more bad reviews about your lackluster performance.”

“I’m injured,” I hissed through my teeth. “You know that. But I give my best every night I step on that stage.”

“It hasn’t looked like it for the past two nights.” Saltiness slid through his tone as he cocked his head to the side. That wasn’t like Blake. He always had our backs. He was under enormous pressure during this tour too, making sure everything ran on time and on budget, and that everyone was where they had to be, and knew what was going on every second of the day. It wasn’t like him to snap.

I clenched my fists as fire barreled through my veins in hot bursts. “Just because I’m not prancing around doesn’t mean I’m not giving one thousand percent.”

“I understand that. But the online reviews saying you’re not focused, and playing like a mopey old man, aren’t what we need.”

My heart lurched, sinking into the pit of my stomach. “I wasn’t. So fuck ’em.”

“Whatever is going on, deal with it. But do it after the show. You get out there and give that crowd a night to remember. Keep the sponsors happy. So here...” He dug into the inside pocket of his leather jacket. “This will help. Let me know if you need more. I can get you anything, anytime.”

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