Page 21 of Ticket to the Stars: Part Two

“Your hair looks great,” Bishop showered me with a compliment easily. “You were a million miles away though. What’s up?”

I could tell him about the guy across the street, but I didn’t want to sound like a paranoid freak. And, anyway, what were the odds that a random stranger was staring at me? He might’ve been looking at the building behind me or something.

So I played it off by saying, “Oh, nothing. I was just…” I didn’t want to outright lie to him either, so I told him what I’d been occupying my thoughts in the salon: “Thinking about how much everything had changed, how different my life would be if I was doing what I thought I’d be doing now.”

“I get that,” he said. “But it’s been so long for me, I can’t even imagine having a normal life anymore.”

His words were meant to be comforting, I was sure, but to me, at least in that moment, they had the opposite effect. I didn’t want to forget my old life. I didn’t want to be someone else… but that’s exactly what I had to do for Black Sacrament.

Chapter Ten – Deacon

It was business as usual, or as much as business as usual could be with a shared girlfriend. We did a few podcasts, a few more interviews on radio shows. Ramona got everything set up for us, so we didn’t have to worry about any of it. We were monsters in the studio, recording song after song and leaving certain bits to the techno-wizards who could finalize the tracks. All of them, of course, had to sign NDAs, so they couldn’t take pictures of us or go public. Normal stuff when you were working on top-secret things in this business.

I think we were all handling it pretty well, and things were moving along nicely. I actually felt better about everything—better than I had in a long, long time. I think that was due less to the guys and more to Angel.

It was impossible to want to stick to myself when she was around. Just being near her made me feel better about life and the turns it had taken.

I wasn’t expecting to get a message from a private number one Friday night, giving me an address and a time. That’s it. No explanation, nothing of the sort. When I searched the address, I found it was a bar.

I only needed one guess as to who wanted to meet me in a bar. Someone I hadn’t seen or spoken to in a very long time.

Maybe I should’ve told the others, but I didn’t. I couldn’t, because what if my instincts were wrong and it wasn’t who I thought it was? Then I’d be meeting with a stranger—but I really, really didn’t think a stranger would send me an address with a time to meet.

Luckily, it wasn’t too late, so my excuse to the guys and Angel was that I was going to pick up dinner. Usually, when we ordered takeout, we always got it delivered to the Redborne, but I didn’t know what I wanted, so I had to go there and see it for myself. A white lie, but a necessary one.

None of them stopped me. None of them thought twice about it. Angel even gave me a kiss before I left, but I was too busy wondering what this was about to really lose myself in that kiss.

I got in my car and drove there. It was just before six-thirty, so the bar wasn’t quite as packed as it would be in a few hours. Friday nights, and these places in the city became overrun with people trying to drink their problems away. Ishould know; I’d been one of them for a while. Losing myself in the bottle had been the only way I could keep going after what happened.

I was able to parallel park in front of the bar, and I got out and headed inside. This particular establishment was on the first floor of a three-story building, not directly downtown but on the outskirts of the city, where the skyscrapers were dwindling and older architecture had taken their place.

The inside was just as dated and worn as the outside. Small, barely room enough for the bar, a pool table, an old jukebox, and a few wooden booths opposite the bar. Nothing fancy. When I walked in, the air itself reeked of booze.

I saw who I was meeting immediately. He was sitting in the far corner, in a booth facing the door, so he’d seen me the moment I’d walked in. He was already nursing a beer; if I had to guess, I’d say he’d go through a lot more of them as the night went on.

Let’s just say I’d learned my habits of avoidance from him.

I made a beeline to him, and it was only when I slipped into the seat opposite his that his gaze finally fixated on me. Green eyes like mine, though his face was harder, squarer, and his stare was permanently narrowed, like he was always glaring, even when he wasn’t. It made him seem pissed off and unapproachable. He was about my same height, his six-foot-tall frame appearing hunched over in the booth. Hisblack hair had been cut short, though it was a little greasy tonight. He wore his favorite leather jacket over a holey shirt.

My brother had looked better.

I didn’t know what to say to him, so I started with, “Hey, man.”

Pope—though I guess he wasn’t really Pope anymore, since he wasn’t part of Black Sacrament, but old habits died hard, I guess—took a slow swig from his bottle before saying, “I didn’t think you’d come, since you’ve been avoiding me lately.” He ran a hand down his face.

I could’ve said I wasn’t avoiding him, but it’d be a lie. I’d blocked him in an effort to keep my sanity. I couldn’t quit Black Sacrament and leave with him, even though the loyal part of me wanted to. Pope’s contract was dissolved due to his inappropriate actions; he’d only left quietly because otherwise the record label threatened legal action. It was one big mess.

And it really was all his fault.

“I didn’t want to,” I admitted, “but I figured you’re still my brother, so if you need help, I’m here.” I didn’t know what I could do for him, but I’d try. He was still family. He’d fucked up, but blood ran deep.

“Who the fuck said anything about needing help?” His mouth curled into a frown, and he outright glared at me. “I don’t need your fucking help.”

He sounded so bitter, so angry, even though he was only in a bed of his own making. No one forced him to gethigh, to get so high and so drunk and to make a complete fool out of himself while talking to a group of ladies. He did that on his own.

“Then why am I here?” I asked, wishing this was done. I loved Pope because he was my brother, but being here with him… it wasn’t what I’d call a fun time. He was still so angry about what had happened, jaded, pissed off; he needed to go figure out what he wanted to do with his life, not stick around here and wish things were different.

Pope set his bottle down on the table, though his fingers never left it. They tapped against the side of the glass. “I saw your new girl today.” The intensity of his stare made me uncomfortable, like he knew what was going on between us, between all of us.

---