Page 3 of Play Fast (Brooklyn Dawn 2)

The fans in the cage spilled out, and the band raced into the back as the crowd’s energy ramped up into madness. Feet stomping, cheers echoing, cell phone lights flashing. No one was ready for the night to end.

And I was just standing there like a zombie, barely reacting as one of the techs pried Vicki from my lifeless hands.

“You okay, man?”

I turned my head to find Cooper behind me. He gave a little nod toward the audience, where fans were pushing against the barrier and begging for more. Which we were going to give them after our super short break—as soon as I could get my ass off this stage.

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry. I’m good.” I nodded at him and strode into the insanity backstage, heading right for one of the tables set up with food and beverages. I didn’t want a soda or a beer. An ice cold water washed the metallic flavor of bitterness out of my throat, and then I reached for the bottle of Glenlivet I’d requested just for tonight.

That was how I toasted my little sister.

To making it through one more year. May it not be the last.

Gotta love my fatalistic Irish side.

I uncapped it and tossed it back, swallowing again and again until the burn raged inside my chest. When I’d finished off a third of the bottle, I slammed it on the table and pivoted to find Lindsey staring me down. She’d just powered through an incredible set, and other than a few curls out of place, you couldn’t fucking tell. She barely seemed to sweat. That woman had been made for the stage.

Normally, I reveled in her effortless ability. Tonight? It just pissed me off like so much else.

“Let’s talk.”

I followed her into the nearest alcove away from the hive of activity and buzz of voices. The thunder of the crowd was reaching ear-splitting levels. We were due back out there basically now.

“What’s up?” I asked, as if I didn’t already know.

“If you can’t do this, we can do the encore without you. It won’t be nearly the same, but we can make it work.”

Although I knew she was trying to help, that wasn’t what it felt like right now. Instead, this was just one more episode of my input not really being needed.

Theme of the evening.

My palm itched, wanting The Glenlivet back again. I needed something to hold

on to right now, and for once, it wasn’t Vicki. My solace wasn’t inside her forgiving curves or her sweet strings.

No, mine would be in getting drunk, alone.

I tucked my hands under my armpits. “You do what you have to do. You’re the boss, right?”

She rolled her eyes. “I know you’re in a rough spot, so I’m not going to kick your ass for that snide comment.”

“You are the boss. You and tall, dark, and deadly over there.” I jerked my chin in the general direction of where Jamie was holding court with her latest bunch of groupies.

Men—and women—followed her around as if she was a god in leather and lace. She kept trying to break free, but there was always someone grasping at her.

“I’m offering you an out as your friend. That’s all.”

“Awful lot of friendship being tossed my way tonight,” I muttered.

“Maybe you should take some of it and knock the chip off your shoulder.” She patted my arm none too gently. “Free advice, pal.” She turned away. “Time to rock,” she called to the others, who shouted and followed her back to the stage.

I debated grabbing my bottle but decided against it. I could do a four-song encore.

I hoped.

The flush of the crowd’s approval helped to erase the uneasy tension on my bandmates’ faces as I took my spot on the left side of the stage.

They were all waiting for me to fuck up, but I made it through. Even adding some of my signature flourishes at the end.

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