Page 216 of Reverse

I gape at him as he grips the railing behind him, his knuckles turning white.

“It took me a second to figure out why you suddenly pulled the trigger.” He smiles, his eyes glossing over, “and it was because adifferent journalistpursued my lead. Didn’t see that one coming.”

“Why?” I ask, feeling like I’m having an out-of-body experience as I glare at him, doing everything in my power to keep myself in check.

“Why else, man? To play. Always for the chance to play. You’ve been such a fumbling idiot with the gifts you’ve been given. Leaving us hanging for months without knowing our future. Every musician alive would kill for talent like yours, and you were wasting it. So, I did what I had to do to try and force your hand.” He sweeps me with a look of clear disdain. “Look at you now. A realrock star.”

“You’re fucking fired.”

“No surprise,” he snaps. “Nor thanks,” he sighs again as if bored, “not that I expected it.”

“Jesus Christ, I should end you,” I seethe. “Did you out our relationship?”

“No,” he slurs. “As much of a bastard as I am, I didn’t because I would kill to have a bird look at me the way she looked at you. But you fucked that up well, didn’t you?”

“You’re disgusting.”

“And you’re missing my point. Your life, right now, is made up of so many musician’s aspirations, and you’re squandering it onsenselessemotions. Not the kind that matter. Anger is not fueled by the heart—bitterness isn’t either. Pride? Please, it’s annoying. You’re annoying, and you’ll lose it all by paying attention to the wrong things. The gigs, the women, you’re blowing all of it. You owe it to everyone dreaming on a rock star who wishes they had your advantages not to toss it for stupidity. You can start by going to get your bird back.”

“She’s just divorced me, you fucking imbecile.”

“And things aren’t going your way anymore because you’re allheart,” he taunts as if my answers are obvious.

On the verge of snapping, I turn my back, heeding Dad’s warning. I’ve already cost myself with my rage, and if I assault LL a second time, he could rob me of some of my net worth, or worse, cost me my career. Maybe that’s his intention.

“So why tell me now?”

“Because my dream has played out, and I’ll be honest, I’m disappointed, probably because I don’t have the drive or energy I used to.”

“Just get out,” I whisper, the need to hurt him surging through my veins. “Please, man. Just get the fuck out.”

“I have justone askbefore you decide whether or not to bloody me up, mate.”

“Fuck you,” I spit, my back to him as I text Joel to come for him before I black out on him in a rage.

“Call a medic.”

LL’s words register as I turn back just as his expression blanks, and he falls, face down, landing in a motionless heap at my feet.

“Somebody help!” I scream, the music drowns me out as I dial 911 and turn LL over to see blood pouring out of his nose and mouth. A few of his teeth are broken, probably due to the dead weight of his fall. I’m on the phone with the operator, hysterically relaying our location, when Joel and Dad fly onto the balcony. I put the phone on speaker as Joel checks LL’s breathing, and Dad curses, frantically trying to get him to respond. When the operator prompts us for a possible cause, I look over to Dad.

“Dad, I don’t know what happened. One minute, he was talking his usual shit, the next, he was face down at my feet. I didn’t touch him, I swear.”

“He’s not on anything,” Dad says with a grim shake of his head.

“Well, he’s not unconscious for no fucking reason!” I say in a panic.

“He’s a type 2 diabetic with severe insulin resistance,” Dad imparts to the operator. I gape at my father as he works with Joel to try and revive him. Unsure of how much time passes, I avert my attention to LL’s lifeless body until two paramedics burst onto the balcony.

Sitting at LL’s bedside at the hospital, I stare up at the tiny holes in the ceiling tiles, blindsided by the fact that LL’s selfish decision—a decision he disguised as faith in my talent, mixed with his jealousy—is part of the reason behind everything that’s happened this past year.

Unreal.

If he ever wakes up, I’m going to kill him. At the same time, should I thank him? The odds are unlikely that will happen since the crazy bastard went kamikaze with my life choices to fulfill dreams he couldn’t accomplish on his own.

But if LL hadn’t made that call, Natalie would still have found those emails. Rosie’s story was Natalie’sexcuseto come to Seattle—to me. Knowing Natalie, she might have come anyway.

That tip-off was the only decision in LL’s hands. The result after, completely and utterly a result of my own decisions—of Natalie’s decisions.

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