Page 5 of Derailed
“Thank you,” Lexi says, and one by one we squeeze through the hospital door and back out to the waitingroom.
Bedo’s there, fingers tapping away on his cell. He doesn’t even acknowledge ourreturn.
Erika lifts her head and greets us with a sympathetic smile, but it’s forced andfake.
Trent breaks the silence. “What happensnext?”
Bedo lifts his gaze long enough to answer. “Iz is done with Three UglyGuys.”
Austin scoffs. “That’s not fair, is it? One mistake and he’s out. Just likethat?”
Bedo locks the screen on his phone and points it at Austin, his brow scrunched with his scowl. “This wasn’t an innocent blunder. He made a fucking joke of youallat the biggest awards ceremony of the year. It’s all anyone is gonna talk about. And that magnifying glass over your personal lives? It’s just got a whole lot bigger. You won’t be able to take a hit of weed or fuck a groupie ever again without the Pope knowing. Hell, you won’t be able to take a shit without some pap following you inside the stall. We’re beefing up security, but until things cool down, I need you all to stay at thehouse.”
Austin’s face falls. “We can’t goout?”
“No, Austin. You can’t. Not without permission.” Bedo glares at him before leveling us each with the same stare. “That’s if you care about not being dropped by your label. You all pissed off a lot of important people today. People who’ve worked their entire lives building up the music industry to what it is. They don’t take kindly to young asshats coming in and ruining theirshow.”
Austin shakes his head. “But it wasn’t even us! It was Iz! We never even knew he was so fargone.”
Erika interrupts. “Which is why the label will be sending him to one of the best rehab facilities in the state. We’re going to make this right. This isn’t how 3UG goes down inhistory.”
“What about our album? The summer tour?” Trent sighs, because we’ve got studio time lined up for the next month to finish an album that’s set to release in two months. Hell, we’ve already sold out some of theshows.
“Fucking shit. Not again.” I groan as the realization hitsme.
Austin grumbles. “Cursed. We’re cursed, I tellyou.”
We don’t say the words because we already know the truth.Fucking shit.You could call our band a whorehouse for how many who’ve rotated through the position. No use in bitching or complaining. The reality doesn’tchange.
We’re gonna need another goddamndrummer.
