Page 56 of Ticket to the Stars: Part Two

So I let him go. I watched my brother leave the bar, and then I heaved a sigh, got the bartender’s attention, and ordered a refill on the one Pope had gulped down. When I had three beers once again, I gathered them up and brought them to the table. I pushed one to Priest and the other to Bishop—the latter couldn’t technically, legally drink, but that never stopped us.

“Why didn’t your brother stay?” Angel asked.

“He was here?” Priest whipped his head around. He must’ve been too busy talking to her to pay attention to the rest of the bar. Of course he didn’t see him, since Pope was already long gone.

“He… didn’t want to.” I pulled my drink closer to me and took a swig. “He’s actually leaving the city. He told me he’s going to head home.”

That made Bishop’s eyes widen. “He’s really going home?” I knew what he was thinking: all this time Pope spent moping around, thinking he’d get back on Black Sacrament sooner or later, and onlynowwas he leaving?

I nodded. “Yeah. He did tell me to say he’s sorry for everything.” That was spoken to Angel, who, at first, looked like she didn’t want to accept that. Accept it or not, though, it didn’t really matter. He was gone, and she might not ever see him again.

But, in the end, Angel whispered, “I guess it’s good he’s leaving. He was only torturing himself sticking around. Whatever he’s looking for, I hope he finds it.” She had a glass of Dr. Pepper in front of her, and she grabbed the straw and took a tiny sip.

Priest raised his beer, making an impromptu toast: “To new beginnings.” That could apply to Pope, but I assumed he was more toasting it for us, for a new Black Sacrament. Who would forget our new album was coming soon? And after that was our first tour together.

Things were definitely going to change, but that wasn’t a bad thing. I realized that now. And that’s why I raised my beer along with Priest, and once Bishop and Angel joined in, we clinked our drinks together.

Ramona was wrong. Black Sacrament wasn’t going to fade any time soon.

We were only just getting started.

Epilogue

Chapter Twenty-Three – Angel

It was crazy how much things had changed, and yet, when you got down to it, everything was still the same. My life, for example, had gone from zero to one hundred thanks to one random video my sister had sneakily taken while I was alone in my room, singing to myself. The odds were astronomical that I’d be chosen, that I’d be here today with my three boyfriends, but they weren’t zero.

And I was here with them, in a place that, even after all this time, didn’t look much different. A place that was still my home.

Our album was out. A few of the songs went viral, which helped boost our sales and streams. The label had gotten us a new manager, one that wasn’t nearly as involvedin our day to day lives as Ramona had been. We left for our first show of the Double Feature tour next week.

And man, we were going everywhere. Like, so many places I never thought I’d see in my life. New cities, new states, coast to coast. Black Sacrament was officially back, and we were rocking it.

Enough time had passed. Our relationship wasn’t exactly new anymore, so I figured we should sit down with one person in particular and tell her the truth.

My mom.

It was a Thursday afternoon when we arrived at my mom’s house, and I led the charge, so to speak, heading up to the door and knocking. She’d taken the day off to meet with us. As soon as paychecks from the label started to come, I forwarded a lot of it to my mom, so she could quit her night job and not work so many hours during the day.

She’d sacrificed so much for me and Cleo, it was the least I could do. Even if she didn’t want the money, even if she told me over and over again that I should save it for my future, I wanted to do that for her.

Mom had answered, immediately hugged me, and then threw the guys a suspicious glance before inviting us in. Right now, we huddled together on the small couch in the living room, no room to, you know, breathe.

After living at the Redborne for so long, I’d forgotten how small everything was here. But it was nice and homey, and I couldn’t stop myself from smiling at my mom when she brought us each a can of pop.

She sat down on the old reclining chair near the TV. We’d had it my whole life. Nothing in this house was new, which I took to mean she was saving the money I was sending her for bills or just squirreling it away even though I told her not to do that.

“I will never get over your hair,” Mom remarked, leaning forward in the chair. She didn’t grab herself anything to drink, so her hands hung on her lap, fidgeting with the small holes in her jeans. Unlike my jeans, her holes were from being worn so much.

It wasn’t the first time she’d seen my hair. I came home for Thanksgiving and Christmas—just me, not the guys—so she’d seen it then. But she was used to my regular blond hair after a long eighteen years, so I could understand why it was still such a shock to her. I’d lost count of how many times I’d done a double-take in the mirror myself.

I coughed, suddenly realizing I hadn’t introduced Mom to any of the guys. “Uh, I guess I need to introduce you to…” I stopped myself from saying bandmates. They were more than that. So much more now. But I didn’t want to drop the whole boyfriend card just yet. Let’s get introductions out of the way, first.

“Priest, Bishop, and Deacon,” I said, motioning to the guys when I said their respective names. The guys each got up and shook my mom’s hand, a gesture she wasn’t expecting, because she just sat there, wide-eyed, saying it was good to meet them every time they did.

“You guys have an interesting stage persona,” she said, eyeing them up.

I knew what we looked like, all stuffed on the couch together. Priest and his V-neck shirt that showed off some of the tattoos on his chest, his messy blond hair that looked like he’d just rolled out of bed—a lie, because the man spent way too long in front of a mirror each morning.

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