Page 67 of Deliverance

By the end of the day, I’m beat. Pleasantly so, but beat nonetheless. The muscles in my entire body are aching and I take my time while in the shower, appreciating the fact that the label splurged on securing a top-notch facility. These days, when pretty much everyone who owns a laptop can record a song from scratch from the comfort of their bedroom, it’s a rarity.

“That’s nothing,” Leo tells me later on when I bring up the fact as we all gather in the control room to talk shop one last time before wrapping it up for the day. “We recordedSuicide Roadin Bali. Three weeks out in the wild in a fucking resort. Myself and the boys.”

“No shit? I just got back from Bali myself. Where at?”

The only album we recorded outside L.A. was our last one. All because Justice threw a fit. He wanted toget away.didn’t blame him. I’d want to get away too if I were married to Nikki Deville. I’d want to get away to fucking Pluto.

“Honestly,” Toby says from the couch, “we still have no idea where we were.”

“Middle of the goddamned jungle,” Leo confirms. “Up in the mountains. Maybe an hour or so from Soka Beach.”

“Really? I lived in Kuta for a few months.”

“Kuta is paradise on earth,” Jacob drawls, hitching his chin at me. “You hit the clubs while you were there?”

“Hell yeah.”

The conversation begins to shift in a direction I didn’t expect. First, Leo and Toby describe the place they stayed and worked at in great detail, moaning about the pool and the tennis court, then we move on to the nightlife tidbit and I realize that weaseling my way out of the celebration they’ve planned for the whole team is impossible.

Just in case things go sideways, I message Ian and ask him to book me a hotel room nearby. I didn’t plan on staying in the city, but our studio hours are brutal and wasting precious time driving back to Laguna only to drive back in the morning makes little sense.

Reluctantly, my gaze slides to my chat with Drew and I reread the text I sent her on Saturday morning.

I’m sorry about last night. I don’t know what I did wrong, but I didn’t mean to offend you or hurt you in any way. Please let me know that you’re okay.

That we’re okay.

However, the radio silence tells me otherwise. She read the message later that afternoon but hasn’t responded yet, and deep down, I already know it—whatever the two of us were building—crumbled.

Collapsed like a house of cards.

And the worst thing?

I still fucking want her.

Drew Kadence is like a drug. A drug designed to destroy me piece by piece, slowly and surely. Until there’s nothing but a raw hunger left.

My brain tells me to forget her and move on, but there’s this strange sensation inside my chest—lightness and heaviness twisted into one throbbing knot, and it’s weighing on me, breaking me and soothing me all at the same time, and I can’t explain what it means. I can’t explain many things that are Drew Kadence. Not my need to hear her voice, not my need to hold her hand, not my need to know she’s all right.

Even after she kicked me out of her studio in the middle of our make-out session like some stray fucking dog.

“You killed it today, dude.” Leo claps his hand against my back as we exit the building through the back entrance to avoid getting ambushed by nutty super-fans. “Let’s go celebrate now.”

“Thanks.” I must be getting old. Because the invitation to party doesn’t excite me as much as it used to.

Jacob and Toby are a few paces behind. Stevie is already waiting for us outside, leaning against the black Navigator and sucking on his cigarette. Clouds of smoke pour out through his nostrils and hang in the air.

“Your chariot awaits, fuckers,” he croaks with a lopsided smile and gestures at the back door that’s swung wide open.

He’s the youngest one in the band and wears his hair in a high fade, and he could easily be mixed up with a member of some boy band if on his own or if without his guitar. But I don’t hold his PopSugar style against him. He’s a talented kid, judging by his playing.

“You on butler duties tonight, Malone?” Jacob roars. “Cuz I need some attending.” He grabs at his crotch.

Stevie quickly demonstrates his knowledge of the most effective communication device among dudes who spend too much time together in tight spaces—the middle finger.

Leo punches Jacob’s shoulder. “Don’t pick on the youngling.”

“He’s offering. Who am I to say no to a free back rub?”

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