Page 17 of Slow Ride

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Kason paced his dressing room before the show.It was kind of weird doing this stone-cold sober.He remembered why he’d started drinking and occasionally doing drugs in the first place.Chemicals dulled his nerves.He wasn’t scared that he wasn’t a good performer or that his songs weren’t up to par.He worried that people would see through him and the endless ballads he sang to women now that he suspected the reason he’d only ever found heartbreak was because he wanted something different from what he’d been singing about.

The stress of acting like someone he wasn’t anymore, and feeling like a world-class liar, had eaten at him until he’d started leaning on substances, gambling, and other distractions a little too much.Okay, alottoo much.

He swiped his hand over his damp forehead.

“You doing okay?”Van asked from his post near the door, though his job was more like babysitter than bodyguard lately.

“I will be once the lights come up and I can sing instead of waiting.”

His drummer, Kyra Koda, poked her head in the dressing room.Her pixie stature and the cute curls bobbing around her face, complete with big green eyes, were a total mockery of the beast she became when she rocked the drums for him or any other front man.He was lucky to have her.

It was Kyra’s threat to leave the band, because she “couldn’t stand by and watch him lose himself anymore” that had finally spurred Kason to get help.Hell, he hadn’t even realized he needed it before that.

Worse, he knew that if Kyra abandoned him, Van wouldn’t be far behind.His best friend might never say it, might never cross any professional lines, but the way he was staring dreamily at Kyra right then proved he was at least half in love with the woman, even if he didn’t plan to ever do anything about it.

“Almost ready?”Kason asked her.

“I’m always ready, boss.”She grinned.“How about you?”

“I’m good.”I think.He’d be better if that gorgeous blonde woman from the motorcycle shop showed up backstage after the show.He might not be completely satisfied, but she would help him pretend like that was enough for a while.An orgasm or two would help even more.

“I’m going to get in place.See you out there.”Kyra smiled at him.“I’m proud of you.”

Why?he wondered, but he didn’t ask.No matter how she responded, he was ashamed of himself.

He hadn’t written a song in two years.That wasn’t so long that it was freaking people out yet—other than himself, of course.He had to find his creativity again.His drive.His passion.

But what if he couldn’t do it sober anymore?

Then this comeback tour might end up being a farewell tour instead.He guessed he’d had a decent career.Before the drugs and gambling, he’d been pretty careful with his money.He’d be okay if it all fell apart tonight or in the next few months.That didn’t mean he wanted a life without music.

All his worries faded away when a roadie knocked on the door twice and shouted, “Kason, you’re on!”

He jumped up and down a few times, his fists clenched and his arms tucked in tight to his sides before shaking them out.Van smacked him on the shoulder and said, “You can do it.You’ve got this.They love you.We all do.”

Kason refused to let them down.Not his friends and not the people who’d come there tonight to listen to him sing.He burst from his dressing room at a run, and didn’t stop until he was at center stage, all eyes and lights focused on him.Then he donned his showman persona, which cloaked his real struggles.It was easy to escape for the two and a half hours they played.

Nothing mattered but putting on a good show.

Performing itself was like a drug to him.It drove out the buzzing anxieties that nagged him when the world was quiet.Here and now, the only thing he could hear was music and the screaming of fans.

During his most popular song, Kason always picked someone from the crowd to sing to.To make a connection with.It made him feel less like a charlatan.

That night, he scanned the front row on the right side of the stage.Most everyone looked the same to him in the glare of the lights.Big hair, bigger hats, jeans, flannel, and old concert shirts were everywhere.

So it caught his eye when he noticed a man in a suit.What the hell was he doing there?

And why did that tie and steely gaze make him nearly irresistible?

Kason didn’t have too long to think about it.Kyra kicked off the beat that the rest of the band followed during the intro of “Secret Love”.He edged closer, trying to get a better look at the man as he began to sing.And suddenly it was more than that.

The guy brushed his hand across his eyes as if he was moved by the lyrics, or by Kason singing to him.The pain Kason recognized from within himself was painted over the man’s mostly clean-shaven face.Kason wanted nothing more than to soothe him, either with his song or with his hands and his mouth and his cock.

The lyrics took on new meaning as he imagined loving the sadness out of this man in the crisp white shirt and black slacks, making them both more whole than they seemed at that moment.A flash went off from a few feet away, nearly blinding him.

It made him aware that the very last thing he needed was the camera that fed the jumbotron to zoom in on his private performance and broadcast it to a stadium full of people.

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