Page 13 of Worth the Trouble

It’s not that I don’t enjoy finding new talent, but this is the first band today I’ve actually liked, and beyond that, their music resurrected something in me that won’t quite settle.

“That’s it. You out of here?”

I nod, grabbing my leather jacket off the back of the couch.

“Hold up.” Adrian stands, scratching the back of his neck and dipping his chin. “You doing all right, man?”

“Peachy as always.” I smile. “Why? El worried or some shit?”

“Something like that.” Adrian crosses his arms over his chest. “But be straight with me. As nice as it is not dragging your drunk ass out of strip clubs every other day, it’s not like you to stay in.”

“You keeping tabs on me? I’m flattered.”

Adrian shakes his head because the guy knows how to see past my bullshit. The more a person tries to get in, I deflect, distract, and grin at them. There’s nothing to see if they’re too busy staring at the bullshit.

“I’m good, promise.” I shrug. “Recouping from that last tour. Bitches almost broke my dick I was getting so much pussy.”

“I’ll leave out the last sentence when I report back to Eloise.” He frowns. “Besides, when’s the last time you’ve needed time to recoup?”

Adrian looks me over, but I don’t drop the grin, hoping it’s enough to get him out of his head about this.

I’m not sure what it says about me that the band gets worried when I’m not dipping my dick in a new pussy every night, but it can’t be a good sign. Not that I really care about their opinions.

It’s no one’s business that I enjoy fucking women like they’re my own personal advent calendar—a different chick every day. Sex is my stress relief, my calm, my peace. And I don’t repeat women for a reason. I’m not looking for a relationship.

Problem is, ever since the shit that went down at the end of the last tour, my dick and my head aren’t in the same mental space for the first time in years. While my cock would like to get lost between some random stripper’s legs and forget whatever’s itching to get out from inside me, my head is flat-out uninterested.

I barely fucked anyone those last couple of weeks on tour, and since we got back to Denver, my sex life has become all but nonexistent.

Twenty-one days of nonexistence to be exact. Almost a fucking month. If my dick doesn’t sue me for neglect, I’ll be surprised.

That’s it, tonight I’m fucking someone—anyone—just to prove a point.

“I’m hitting up The Velvet Room with a few buddies tonight.” I plant a hand on Adrian’s shoulder. “So stop thinking about my dick and worry about your own turning against you for forcing it to endure a lifetime of repeat pussy.”

Adrian narrows his eyes and they’re nearly murderous. “Watch how you talk about Eloise.”

It’s just too much fun to piss Adrian off. Eloise is like a sister, so I’m glad they’ve found each other. But I don’t get it, and I’ll use every chance I can to remind him of that fact.

After saying my goodbyes to the band, I head out of the studio and hop on my motorcycle. I may live around the corner from Adrian, but I pass my driveway and keep riding.

I need the air, the sounds of the road. I need to clear my head.

I’m not usually thankful for living in the middle of nowhere, but right now, it feels good to be on an empty road with nothing but trees as my witness. If I weren’t so good at burying my feelings, I’m pretty sure this is what would be considered a meltdown because I haven’t felt like myself in too long now, and I’m tempted to drive until I disappear.

It’s been six years since we became famous, and I buried everything in my life that happened before it. Six years of pretending the person coming to the surface lately doesn’t still exist. Six years of enjoying anything and everything I could get my hands on.

Years of the band watching me spiral and waiting for me to snap out of it, when all it took was one moment.

Finding out Eloise was raped flicked a switch inside me. It reminded me of the real roots that grow when you’ve been a victim. It reminded me of all the shit I’ve been hiding from.

And now here I am, stuck in the wide-open space of Denver, left alone with the demons in my head. While the band is in no rush to head back out on tour, I’m not sure how long I can stand sitting here with my thoughts kicking me in the temples.

Maybe I’ll take Adrian up on his offer to send me to LA to check out a few bands. I can chill with my buddies at Twisted Roses and get some new ink. Anything to get me out of my head.

Turning another corner, I realize I’m halfway to Denver, and I really don’t know why I’m heading to the city. I don’t meet up with the guys for another few hours, so I was going to smoke a joint and take a nap.

But as I’m about to turn my motorcycle around, I spot a car on the side of the road up ahead with its hazards on and immediately smile.

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