Page 40 of Ticket to the Stars: Part Two

What was my brother thinking?

That was the thought that echoed in my head nonstop as the days went by. After learning that he’d been following Angel—which meant he must’ve been waiting for her outside the Redborne somewhere, just waiting for her to show her face outside—the doubts about my brother had only grown.

Our show at Greenbay was coming up. Would Pope try something before then? Or would he do something stupid at the show?

Telling Ramona was an option, but I was afraid of what she’d do. Pope was still my brother. I loved him. He was family. I wanted him to lay low, and then, after time had passed, maybe he could make a comeback.

It was complicated when it came to my brother. He was the reason Black Sacrament existed in the first place. Without him, none of us would be where we were today. We owed our current circumstance to Pope, so it just felt wrong to dismiss him completely.

I didn’t know the story. I wasn’t there when he lost himself and said some things he shouldn’t. He got a little rough. The video evidence was damning enough to make the label force us to out him.

What I’d learned, though, was sometimes you were better off washing your hands of something than trying to fix it.

Sometimes things couldn’t be fixed, and I was starting to wonder if my brother was one of those things. Whether it was a bit of bad luck involving alcohol of some kind and ill-advised choices, or if he knew what he was saying and doing when it was happening; it didn’t matter now. Pope wasn’t in Black Sacrament. Hell, he wasn’t even Pope anymore.

Old habits and all.

Needless to say, this whole thing was stressing me out, and I thought I was doing a decent job of hiding how stressed out I was, but after a few days, Priest came to talk to me. I’d pretty much been hiding away in my room, trying to lose myself to the drums and the beats that came with it—mainly because I didn’t want to explain to the guys why I was so anxious.

I’d mentioned I’d wanted to leave Black Sacrament, that I’d follow Pope wherever he went because he was my brother and I owed him everything, but now… now I wanted to stay. I wanted to stay with Priest and Bishop and Angel.

Angel. God, she didn’t deserve to be thrust into this mess.

Anyway, it was early one afternoon when Priest came into my room and plopped himself on my bed, stretching out before he fluffed up my pillow and leaned back on it, watching me on the drums. He must’ve just gotten back from working out; his yellow hair was damp from a recent shower.

“So, you just going to keep pretending I’m not here?” Priest asked.

My hands tightened around the drumsticks, and I immediately stopped what I was doing. My stare fixated on him. “What do you want?”

“Grumpy, grumpy,” he muttered, though he accompanied that with a smirk, which told me he found my so-called grumpiness amusing. Then again, he found everything amusing. One of the not-so-endearing qualities of my friend. “What’s got you so grumpy lately, Deacon?”

I sighed. “I’m not grumpy.”

“Really? Strange. You could’ve fooled me. I mean, you are aware you’ve been hiding out in your room for, like, four days now. Don’t you remember you have a girlfriend? Or are you bowing out and giving your share of her to me?”

A muscle in my jaw twitched, and my stare hardened into a glare. “I’m not bowing out,” I hissed out. Like hell would I ever give Angel up. She was the only good thing in my life right now, in a way my friends couldn’t be.

I needed her. I loved her. She made the days easier.

“Hmm. I find that interesting, especially because you’ve been giving everyone the cold shoulder lately. But, it is you we’re talking about, so I don’t know why I’m so shocked. You’ve always got a stick up your ass.”

“I do not have a stick up my ass,” I told him. I lifted the drumstick in my right hand. “But I could shove this upyourass so you know how it feels.”

“Trust me, Deacon, nothing that hard and straight will feel good going up your ass,” Priest quipped. “But, I suppose that could be why you’re such a stick in the mud. Seriously. What’s up with you lately? Everything’s good. We’re rolling along. Everything’s coming together—or is that why you’re being like this? Because you want to quit or whatever?”

God, I wished Priest would leave me the fuck alone. “That was—I don’t want to quit now.”

“Ah, because of our dear, sweet Angel?”

“Why are you here again?”

“I’m here, my friend, to see what I can do to get you in better spirits.” He snapped his fingers. “Methinks I have an idea.” He sat up, swung his long legs off my bed, and got to his feet, and then he threw me a smug look. “Don’t move a muscle, buddy. I know just the thing.”

I watched him saunter out of my room, so confident in whatever he thought would make me feel better. Priest was so annoying sometimes. He didn’t know when to let sleeping dogs lie. I’d known him since we were in kindergarten, so I could honestly say he’d always been a pain in the ass.

I debated on getting up and locking my door—thereby ensuring Priest couldn’t stroll back in once he retrieved whatever he thought would make me feel better—but I didn’t move. I remained on the cushioned seat of my spare drum set and waited.

As I waited, I tried to think of something smart to tell him, something that would get him to turn right around and leave me alone.

---