Page 9 of Forever and Ever

Sebastian is across from me with his eyes closed and his head tipped back, but he’s twisting his thumbs around each other, so I know he’s not sleeping. From the look of him, he’s probably fucked up out of his mind.

Is it wrong that I’m jealous?

While I’ve been in rehab, Eloise has kept me updated on the band, and apparently Sebastian’s still in a bad place.

Six months ago, his best friend, and our crew manager, died from an overdose. And even though I wasn’t much help, being along for the ride as he drowned his grief in booze, then drugs, then women, it’s clear he’s not over it.

I might be sober now, but while I was getting my shit together, Sebastian seems to have gotten worse.

That’s how this business works. Living in the eye of the fucking storm.

I’m honestly not sure if any of us are in a good spot to prep for this next tour, especially after how the last one went down, but as the label says:you’ve got this.

Translation:make us some fucking money or be washed up like all those who came before you.

I thought I was bad, but looking at Sebastian across from me, twitching and clearly on edge, maybe I’m the least of their problems. His shaggy blond hair is longer than usual, falling to his eyebrows, and he looks like he hasn’t shaved in a week.

Mr. Clean Cut looks fucked up in more ways than physically.

“Who do I need to fuck to get a drink around here?” Rome says, looking over his shoulder.

“Rome.” Eloise glares at him, before darting her eyes in my direction.

“It’s fine,” I tell her.

I’m not under any delusions that this tour isn’t going to be the ultimate test of my sobriety. If I wanted to take the easy road, I wouldn’t be here at all. But my music is all I have left at this point. That, and the band.

So unless I want to lose the last things keeping me from snapping, this is where I need to be—booze and all.

“I’m a big boy, I can handle it.” I nudge Eloise’s arm and try to play it off.

She buys it and relaxes. They always do. I’m good at pretending nothing gets to me. Which is clear from the way Rome grins in my direction and then starts looking around again for a flight attendant.

I rub my forearm, where the fresh tattoo is hidden by my long sleeve shirt, and take a deep breath.

I can do this. I have to.

Once more, my stare moves to Merry, who’s talking to Quinn, our social media manager. She’s clearly making herself comfortable with the people around her, and I shouldn’t be surprised. She strikes me as a girl who will be able to hold her own on this tour—and in our world.

My world.

Not that I belong here much anymore.

“So, what’s the plan?” I ask Adrian, trying to distract myself as the plane starts to lift off.

No matter how much I’ve traveled, I never get used to that feeling. My insides going into a state of suspension. As if they don’t already feel uneasy on a daily basis, wind catching under the airplane’s wings sends me floating.

“We’re stopping in Denver first so you guys can have a week off at home to chill.” He says ‘you guys’ but they’re all staring like it’s me they’re really worried about. They want to give me time to settle in, so I don’t immediately fall off the wagon.

“Got it.” I’m not thrilled that I’ll be getting these questioning looks on a regular basis. “And after that?”

“We’re heading to Vegas,” Adrian says, a little less sure about that statement, even though it makes Rome whoop loudly.

Eloise kicks Rome in the shin, and he flips her off just in time for Sebastian to open his eyes and catch him. So Sebastian elbows him in the arm.

“Fuck you both,” Rome says, rubbing his shin with one hand and elbow with the other.

Adrian watches them like they’re children. We might as well be. Rock stars aren’t the most well-adjusted people given we get handed everything we want and don’t have to apologize for anything.

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