Page 100 of Final Serenade

“I’ll text you tomorrow.”

Golden curls on display, his lanky figure maneuvered through the backstage crowd until I couldn’t see him behind the wall of people anymore.

Can you please text me when you drop off my brother?I shot a quick message to Levi.

Levi: Will do.

We drove to Malibu in an Escalade. Roman took the front. Janet and Billy sat with us in the back. Jaw set and eyes closed, Frank hardly spoke. His sweat-drenched clothes stuck to his body as if they were a second skin. Our clasped hands rested on his thigh and I could feel the weakness of his pulse and the drag of his labored breaths. Endless questions swirled in my head, but I had to let them simmer. I had to turn the inquisitive part of my mind off.

“I really think you need to reconsider,” Janet began, her voice a plea.

Billy touched her arm. He was the calm one, but I knew, like with Dante’s smiles earlier at the arena, this was just a facade.

“We’re not discussing this anymore,” Frank growled. His eyes remained closed, but his grip on my hand tightened. His body was slumped on the seat, legs stretched, head tossed back.

“You’re going to hurt yourself,” Janet wailed, a somber frown coiling her neatly thread brows.

“Mother”—Frank looked at her—“a lot of people paid a lot of money to see us play a show. I can’t simply pull the plug because of my fucking blood pressure.”

“You’re not well,” she countered in a half-pout.

“We’ll make adjustments to the setlist. What I need right now is for you to stop nagging.”

She didn’t respond. Something unsaid teetered between them. I didn’t know what. The heaviness of their standoff was like a lingering wrecking ball, wanting to swing into action.

I could tell Frank’s determination to perform tomorrow weighed on Janet’s shoulders.

Billy was the mediator between his wife and his son. “Boy’s going to get some rest tonight and we’ll decide in the morning, huh?” he said. His gaze darted from Frank to Janet.

She shook her head disagreeably but didn’t reply.

Grim silence dragged on until we got to Malibu. Corey and Brooklyn arrived moments after us and before I knew it, the house had been turned into a war zone. Turbulent chatter filled the living room as I marched Frank to the bedroom. There was a nurse in the house, but he insisted on privacy.

Watching someone who’d just walked off the stage of the Forum trying to peel off his clothes was strange. Surreal. Domestic.

I made a feeble attempt to help him, but Frank managed without my assistance. He stepped into the shower and I sat on the edge of the hot tub, listening to the water beat against the frosted walls and marble as I watched his splotches of ink moving behind the steamy clouds inside the cabin.

Up until today, we’d only shared the bathroom if we were having sex in the shower. We didn’t have a habit of brushing our teeth together like some couples. Our schedules didn’t really allow it.

I dropped my gaze to my phone and opened my Twitter. My stomach turned over.

The world knew something was wrong and the world wasn’t happy.

Hall Affinity cheated us!the tweets screamed.

The set was too short. The fans were divided again. Half were defending the band, the other half wanted their money back.

I scrolled through the feed and clicked on one of theRewiredposts. It was a short video snippet from the concert. The finale. There was so much pyro on stage, I could barely see any members. Hall Affinity had never gone all out with the fireworks in the past. Either management really wanted to make a splash or they wanted to distract the crowd due to the fact the front man wasn’t up to the task. The journalist in me could speculate all night, but the woman who was in a relationship with said front man didn’t want to, didn’t need to.

A low thud came from inside the shower cabin. Freaked out, I hurried over and pulled the door open.

“Frank?” His name was a worried gasp on my lips.

Large swirls of steam hit my face.

“It’s just a shampoo bottle,” he mumbled.

I heard the crack in his voice and I saw the tension in his shoulders. He stood facing the wall with the controls, both palms flat against the marble, eyes on the floor.

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