Page 6 of Broken Chorus

Hell, it had been the very reason he’d smacked Hawk across the face the first time the man he loved had dared to kiss him.

Shaking his head, he blew out a breath and forced away the memories before the tears that were prickling the insides of his eyelids began to fall. Thinking, that was the biggest problem right now. He needed to stop before he spiraled into a place where the weed would never be able to save him. What he needed was a distraction.

So, what would it be tonight? Monster movies? Natural Disasters?

Fuck it. Maybe he’d just load up a video game and shoot at things until the sun came up.

Naaa.

Then he’d just be awake, cranky, and listless. Sleep, that wouldn’t find him until he was well and truly exhausted. A long jam session would have taken care of that easily, but since it was off the table, he needed something else.

Something physical.

Just the thought of hitting a club and picking up some rando, despite the ease with which he could manage it, was exhausting and not in a good way. More like a mind-numbing, eye-rolling bit of folly that would force him to interact solely for the sake of seeking out someone who wouldn’t go all fanboy over him.

Shit, that would also require some measure of camouflage and eyes in the god damned back of his head to make certain no one was sneaking pictures of him, especially if he decided to do the do behind some dumpster in an alleyway. The one time he’d been caught in such a compromising position it had taken months for the photos to stop circulating on the internet. Of course, the only reasonthatbit of gossip had died down in the first place was that some sneaky asshat with a video camera had gotten lucky and happened upon Kazzy and three other guys in a hot tub orgy.

No matter what anyone tried to imply about the fans being in it for the music, sex sold, which meant nude or nearly nude photos of porn-worthy rock stars sent concert ticket sales skyrocketing.

Fuck this.

If he’d seriously just been cut from his band by his so-called best friend, then he was gonna have to pull his shit together and either form one on his own or go solo. Either way, before his ass got up on the stage again, he'd need to make damn sure it looked good in a pair of jeans.

Electric currents of energy kept dancing up and down his spine, leaving him a weird combination of itchy and twitchy despite what he’d smoked on the balcony. There was a solutionfor that too. He’d just roll another blunt, change into his swim trunks, bang out some laps, then smoke until his body was so loose limbed and relaxed he melded with the couch.

Better roll two then.

His inner voice was probably right in that regard, and while he could have added a solo jam session to the mix, the very thought of playing alone tonight threatened to kick off a whole other spiral of self-deprecating thoughts. Best to not even think about music. He could figure that shit out once he got a handle on everything else.

Like rolling.

Fifteen minutes later he had two beautiful blunts sitting on the tray, a pair of board shorts on and a towel over his shoulder. With any luck he’d have the roof to himself and a beautiful ocean of stars to gaze up at while he swam. It was his one, desperate wish the whole ride up in the elevator.

Up here the scent of chlorine replaced the gritty car exhaust smell that clung to the streets and the stars were faint, but visible, despite the city lights attempting to drown their beauty. What he wouldn’t give for a blackout, just for a couple hours.

He discarded his towel on a deck chair before jumping in, the smack of the cold water a startling shock that brought him sputtering to the surface, hugging himself to try and preserve what warmth he had left.

Stupid.

His teeth chattered and he mentally kicked himself for not dipping a toe in first. Would have been better than trying therip the band-aid offapproach.

Roll over, stretch out, get his arms and legs moving. It was only cold if he thought it was cold.

Time melted with each lap he swam until he’d gotten lost in the feel of the water.

It was a sudden burst of music blaring from his phone that jarred him out of his blissful nothingness and left him floundering in the pool, treading water and swiping at his face. He didn’t have to reach the phone to know who it was, he had special ringtones for each of his bandmates and Ozzy’s voice announcingAll Abordbefore the intro toCrazy Trainwas purely reserved for Hawk.

Heaving himself out of the pool and into the cool night air, Aaron shivered all the way to the phone, dripping on the screen as his fingers slipped several times before he got it open.

“Hawk…what…” Aaron began before he was abruptly cut off.

“How the fuck could you walk out on the band like that!” Hawk snapped, voice so loud he might as well have been standing poolside with him.

“I didn’t walk out on nuthin’, Kelly kicked me out.”

“For being a dick, I’m sure.”

“For being honest! For fuck’s sake, Hawk…”

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