Page 25 of Fractured Rhythm

Holly:You’re full of shit, that’s what you are. We are getting takeout tonight, and you are going to spill all your secrets. Was it okay? Did you hit him? Maybe scream in his face. And not in an orgasm kind of way.

Cassie:Seriously?!

Holly:Sorry. Couldn’t resist. No really, are you okay?

Cassie:Yeah. It was actually nice.

Holly:Ugh, this day needs to end so I can grill you. I’ll be at your place at six. Order Thai from that place up the street from you. You know what I want. Your secrets and their spicy red curry.

Cassie:See you tonight. Try to contain yourself.

Crap. Was I really going to go to a club with the band? With Bash? Sitting across from Bash at the café on Sunday had been nice and easy, as we hadn’t delved too deeply into anything. But at the club, there would be booze involved. Probably a lot for Bash if he was sticking with his current trend. Alcohol loosened lips.

This was going to be a disaster.

BASH

“We have totalk about a new drummer,” Tristan said as they sat in my living room Friday afternoon. His words were soft, almost a whisper, but they cut through me like a knife, stealing my breath.

I knew he was right, but fuck, it hurt to think about replacing Jamie. My bandmate, my best friend. Hell, he’d become my brother so many years ago. I still waited for him to walk through the front door of the apartment, or my place in LA, and make this entire nightmare go away, but I knew he was gone.

“Jesus, man. You’re just throwing that out there. No lead in, telling me to brace myself,” Jax said.

“You know we have to talk about it eventually. We could find a session drummer or someone to fill in for recording, but if we want to go back on tour, we need a drummer. I don’t want to be the asshole here, but we’re running low on time.”

“He’s right,” I said, hating the words but knowing we didn’t have a choice. I’d written another song, and Josh was up my ass for us to get it down in the studio and send it to him to appease the label.

“I know, it just fucking sucks,” Jax said, his head down. “I want him to walk back in the room, with that fucking smirk, and say ‘did you losers miss me or something?’”

“We all want that, but Jamie wouldn’t want us wallowing and not making music. He loved hamming it up with the fans, and replacing him isn’t possible, but we have to find someone,” Tristan said, his eyes locked on mine.

The thought of someone on the drum kit behind me that wasn’t Jamie was difficult to swallow. We’d made this band together in my parents’ garage, graduating from an old guitar and beat-up drum kit when we were twelve to performing in front of tens of thousands of screaming fans in our early twenties.

“I know. Do we have a list? I’m sure Josh sent over something that I probably deleted,” I said, casually strumming my acoustic. My hands needed something to do before I walked into the kitchen and grabbed the whiskey bottle that was calling to me. I’d polished off another one last night with barely a hangover this morning. I knew I should probably lay off the booze, but I wasn’t that bad. I wasn’t Jamie. I could control it.

“Yeah,” Tristan said, swiping on his phone.

“Too bad we can’t get Cameron to ditch Screaming Vikings,” Jax said. “Well, as good as anyone would fit with us.”

“Yeah, we can’t poach him, though. It’d be a dick move,” I said. Cameron had filled in on one of Jamie’s rehab stints. We’d been co-headlining with Screaming Vikings at the time, so he’d done double duty. I wasn’t sure how his arms were still working at the end of each night. The man was a maniac. Almost as crazy as Jamie.

“We’ll find someone. It won’t be Jamie. We can never replace him. But we can find someone to do Jamie’s music justice,” Tristan said.

“Who’s on the list?” I asked, wanting to get it over with.

“Jake from Rapid Beast. They broke up and he’s looking for a new gig. Their style’s different from ours, but I think we can add him to the short list.”

Jax and I nodded in agreement.

“Josh included a sampling of a few guys I’ve never heard of.” Tristan turned up the volume on his phone and played a few of them.

None of them matched Steelwolf’s sound, but there was one that stood out.

“That second one, who is that?”

“Charlie Jones,” Tristan said.

“Never heard of him,” Jax said.

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