Page 33 of Ticket to the Stars: Part One

His hazel eyes studied me. His short brown hair was a little messy, semi-combed back like he’d run his hand through it over and over. A small tablet sat on the couch next to him, part of his process, I assumed.

“Going somewhere?” he asked.

“Ramona’s coming to pick me up.” Although I’d planned on going down to the lobby and hanging out until Ramona arrived, I found myself wandering toward the couch. I sat a cushion away from him. “That was pretty, what you were playing before.”

“Oh, that? It’s nothing. I like to screw around sometimes.” He gave me a sheepish smile before setting the acoustic guitar on the floor, leaning it against the couch beside his legs. He shut off the tablet screen. “Where are you going with Ramona?”

Telling him Ramona was taking me to the doctors so I could get on some kind of birth control to minimize my period and its effects on me wasn’t something I wanted to discuss with him—or any of the guys, really.

Actually, I didn’t want to talk about it with anyone, even Ramona. Stuff like that… I didn’t know. Maybe it was the fact that I was still a virgin, so even talking about birth control made me squirm.

I settled with saying, “I’m not sure. We’re meeting with someone. A stylist, maybe? I don’t know.” A stylist for my vagina. Sort of. So it wasn’t technically a lie. If you couldn’t already tell, I wasn’t a huge fan of lying in general.

“Ah.” Bishop nodded once, a sage look on his face, as if he totally understood. It struck me then just how cute he really was. Dimples aside, without being all done up for a show, he was the epitome of what a boy next door should look like. Gentle, soft features. High cheekbones. A warmth to his stare that came easily.

He was a far cry from the boy I’d known years ago. We’d both done some growing up. I couldn’t be upset with him for not recognizing me.

An awkward silence fell over us, and I tapped my knees with my hands before getting up. “I guess I’ll head downstairs. Ramona should be here soon.” I pointed to his guitar. “I liked it, what you were playing before. It was nice.” Giving him a smile, I turned around and walked away in a hurry before the awkwardness could completely swallow me up.

Would things ever get easier around here, or would things remain awkward until the end of my contracted time?

Ramona picked me up, and then it was straight to the doctor’s office. Thankfully, Ramona waited outside while I dealt with the doctor—a woman, thank God. We discussed my options, and, given how wild my schedule might become once we were recording and touring, an IUD was decided on.

Lucky for me, she had everything ready to go and was able to put it in me right there. Unfortunately, though she told me it wouldn’t hurt too much, she lied.

Yeah, that thing hurt like a bitch.

Chapter Fifteen – Deacon

I stayed in that night. Priest and Bishop had sat me down and reminded me that the more I pushed everything and everyone away, the harder this next year would be. Being an ass to the girl was pointless. It wasn’t her fault she basically took my brother’s spot in the band. From what it sounded like, she didn’t even really want it. Her sister had sent in her video, and she’d just happened to be chosen out of all of the applicants.

It wasn’t Angel’s fault. It wasn’t. Taking it out on her was a dick move.

So, most of the time I stayed in my room. I fucked around with my drum set when I felt anxious… which was more often than I’d like to admit, especially right now. Everything was making me anxious.

The girl. Black Sacrament’s impending comeback and slight re-brand. Doing it all without my brother, the guy who’d started this band, the one who’d chosen the freaking name.

My brother was a dick. It was true. He could be the king of all assholes—it’s where I’d learned it from—but I didn’t think he was a bad guy. Everyone made mistakes. It’s just, when you were in the limelight, your mistakes were broadcasted all over the internet, all over every social media site, for the whole world to see. Regular people didn’t have that problem.

Honestly, I didn’t even want to be here anymore. Black Sacrament without my brother wasn’t Black Sacrament, just a poor substitution. The only reason I was here was because I had to be, otherwise the record label would sue me out of everything. Contracts sucked shit.

I didn’t eat dinner with everyone. Bishop had ordered Chinese and gotten it delivered, but I’d said no. I didn’t want to eat with them, sit with them and pretend nothing was wrong. Bishop and Priest could play house with Angel, but I wouldn’t. I’d be amiable to her, but that’s it. We wouldn’t become friends or anything.

It was just past midnight when I crept out of my room to make something to eat. I was starving after skipping dinner, but I didn’t want to run into any of them and have them ask me stupid questions like why I didn’t just eat Chinese with them.

No, fuck that. Fuck them. Fuck all of this. If Priest and Bishop thought this was the start of a new chapter in Black Sacrament’s book, they were wrong. This was the end.

However, as my feet drew me down the long hall, my ears picked up on the sounds of the TV in the living room on, playing some sitcom with a laugh track. There was nothing in this world I hated more when it came to television than a stupid laugh track.

Like, don’t fucking tell me when to laugh. If it’s funny, I can figure it out myself.

I assumed it might be Priest—typically he kept weird hours, used to going out and partying it up with whoever he could get his hands on. Lately, he’d been on his best behavior, like he wanted to impress Angel or something. Don’t make me laugh.

But it wasn’t Priest. In fact, as I stepped out of the hall and into the wide-open space between the living area and the kitchen, the person I found on the couch was the newest member of the band.

Angel sat with a blanket on her lap, her white hair a mess. She wore a baggy hoodie that swallowed her up, and she was currently chewing on a sleeve as she watched whatever stupid show was on the TV.

I stopped when I spotted her, my legs suddenly refusing to work. Her eyes widened a little when she saw me, and she lowered the sleeve away from her mouth as she reached for the remote. “Is it too loud? I’m sorry.” She hit the volume button a few times, lowering the sound of that stupid laugh track.

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