Page 35 of Songbird: Black Kite
Hawk
Fifteen Years Ago
“Yo,passthatshit,”I said, holding my hand out for the joint that Alex was currently Bogarting like a bitch. “And someone find me some vodka.”
I smirked as one of the roadies, a kid who had only joined us a few shows ago, took off, eyes wide as he darted around the room, trying to find one of the hidden bottles of Grey Goose our rider insisted the venue have on hand for us. I knew there were dozens, but I still liked to make the new kid sweat a little.
“Here, man,” Alex said, finishing his hit and passing it over. “Don’t be a dick.”
Ignoring him, I took a hit, closing my eyes as the smoke sank in deep.
The show tonight had been killer, a full house and a riotous crowd, which always fed the vibe and made things just click. Even Lewis had held his shit together tonight, keeping up and pulling his weight, thank fuck.
Finishing my hit, I passed the joint to Gavin beside me and leaned back, blowing a slow stream of smoke up to the ceiling. I needed to shower, but coming off stage left me with a high like no other, and I liked to smoke a little to take the edge off before I started in on the rest of the party favors for the evening.
Had to work hard to keep that shit from Mick these days. He was getting all up in my business lately, talking about how I had to keep my shit straight and not blow my life up again.
I’d been good since I went to rehab five years ago, though; had everything under control and knew when to party and when to pass. And on a night like tonight, when I’d played an epic fucking show, I deserved a fucking party.
Looking around the room, I locked eyes with Ronnie, the roadie that was my usual hook up for all my questionable consumables. He was a good guy, and his brother was connected to some hardcore motorcycle club, so I could always count on him to have something for me, even with the label and Mick breathing down my fucking neck.
No one ever worried about the roadies.
Giving him a chin lift, I got a nod in response and stood from the couch, heading for the bathroom in our private dressing room. I wanted to get showered and sorted before the rest of the fun arrived for the evening. All the ladies wanted to land the lead singer, so I typically had my pick of the litter, but it never hurt to be ready when they arrived. Charlie would be rounding them up right about now, so I had to haul ass.
I had just finished getting dressed, when the knock came at the door. I cracked it open, finding Ronnie standing there, exactly as I’d expected.
“What you got for me, man?” I whispered, keeping my voice low and my eyes peeled for anyone coming down the hall. “Coke? Don’t want any junk, man.”
I had never tried heroine, regardless of how many times it had been on offer. Something inside me knew that it would be a step too far, something I would never come back from.
“Nah,” he said, shaking his head. “Not this time. The fucking cops busted up the last shipment coming over the border, so the club is dry on the good shit for the next few months. I, uh, scored this, though. Should do the trick.”
Shifting his eyes to the side, Ronnie reached into his pocket and held up a small baggie containing half a dozen little green pills.
“What the fuck is that shit?” I asked, frowning. I had no patience for bullshit tonight.
“It’s Molly.” Ronnie looked offended I hadn’t immediately appreciated what he was offering.
“Like X? Seriously? What is this, ninth grade?” I needed something substantial, not this kiddie shit.
“Sorry, Hawk. Like I said, my guy’s got nothing for a few weeks. This was the best I could do.”
Fucking bullshit. That’s what it was. Here I was, the biggest rock star on the goddamn planet, and I was sneaking around backstage at my own concert, trying to score like I was fifteen again. Lifting my hand, I chewed on the corner of my thumb, debating what the fuck I was gonna do.
I could go back to the party, smash a bottle of Grey Goose, and let that fuck me up good, but the hangovers were the fucking worst these days.
There was only so much weed I could smoke before even my voice would sound like trash, and we had another show tomorrow in Milwaukee or something.
No, if I was gonna party, it was gonna have to be with the Molly.
“Fine,” I huffed, holding out my hand. “Give ’em to me.”
Ronnie shoved the baggie at me like he couldn’t wait to be rid of it before nodding and skulking away down the hall. Snapping it open, I popped out one of the little green pills and held it up between my finger and thumb. Fuck, it had been years since I’d taken this shit, so long I couldn’t really remember what the trip was like. But at this point, anything was better than the clawing nothingness that tended to swallow me up anytime I wasn’t on stage.
It was like nothing could reach me anymore. I lived my life drifting, going where I was told, wearing what I was told, and singing when I was told.
That was it. The few choices I did make for myself were so completely inconsequential it was almost a joke. It seemed like everywhere I looked, there was another person trying to handle me. Wrangle me into something they could use and sell and make a buck off of.
