Page 1 of Tight End

Chapter 1

Brixton

TWO YEARS EARLIER

Istare out at the screaming crowd, sweat drizzling down the sides of my face. My t-shirt sticks to me like Saran-Wrap, heart thrashing in my chest.

We just rocked the Sun Arena in Oakland and it was more incredible than anything I’ve ever imagined.

This is my fucking life.

And it’s only the beginning.

Since Sin City was signed by SoCal Records, one of the biggest labels in the country, we’ve exploded and been swept up in a whirlwind of concert dates, tour announcements, interviews, and launch parties ever since.

“You guys were so incredible tonight!” My future sister-in-law Allie squeals when she bursts into the VIP suite backstage. She throws her arms around me. “You absolutely lit up that stage, Brix.”

“Thanks, Al. I really appreciate you guys coming for the show, especially when you’re ready to pop. Jesus, I can barely get my arms around you anymore,” I joke.

Her majorly pregnant belly keeps me from hugging her too tight. I grin at my older brother, Davis, who stands behind her.

“You know we’d have never miss being here for you.” Davis claps me on the shoulder, his dark eyes crinkling in the corners. “Besides, this is a pretty big step up from all the crappy places where you guys used to play.”

And Davis never missed a single one of our gigs before he took a job with a law firm in San Francisco a few months ago. He was always there for me.

The only one who was.

So it really shouldn’t have come as a shock that my dad declined my invite to the show tonight. But it still hurts.

“Dad couldn’t make it?” he asks.

I shake my head. He didn’t even bother to make up an excuse.

The ever-present reality stabs at my heart.

I killed his wife.

And even after all of these years, he never lets me forget it.

Nor does he care that I lost her, too. Never even got to meet her.

But I force a smile for Davis, refusing to let the giant ass elephant in the room get under my skin. If Dad doesn’t care enough to be here, then I sure as hell don’t give a good goddamn to acknowledge that he’s missing.

Tonight is the best night of my life, what I’ve worked my ass off for, and nobody is going to take that away from me. Nobody is going to rain on this parade, least of all my fucking prick of a father.

Champagne corks pop, bubbly liquid flows over the tops of the bottles and spills onto the plush carpet around us as my bandmates approach. Lane Maxwell, the drummer and my closest friend in the band, slings an arm around my shoulders and takes a long gulp of the champagne.

“We’re fucking solid gold right now, thanks to this guy.” Lane nods at Davis and holds up the bottle with a wink. “Our lawyer made sure of that.”

Allie lets out a yelp and bounces against my other side, clapping her hands. “I’m so excited for you guys. This is so surreal. Remember all those nights when we followed you around to those dingy ass bars in Hollywood?”

Dak Prescott clinks his highball glass of whiskey against Lane’s bottle. “To us. Tonight and fucking always.”

“Sin City!” we all roar in unison. More cheers erupt from the rest of the people crammed into the suite. It’s a total zoo in the best way. So many friends and family members traveled from a handful of different states to see us debut as the headliner for the biggest show we’ve ever played to date.

At least they all give a shit that we’re about to take off like a rocket.

Aiden Taylor, our guitarist, hands me a bottle of champagne and I guzzle it down. The bubbles shoot up the back of my throat and flood my nasal passages. I’ve never felt more alive than when I’m performing on stage and tonight, the high was the most intense it’s ever been. The screams, the lights, the pulsating music. Fuck, it was magic.

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