Page 11 of Piper's Pyro

I nodded, trying not to bolt to the bathroom and barf up breakfast.

“I knew you had it in you, Pyro,” Singe said, gesturingrock onwith his hands. His electric guitar hung from the strap against his body like a third limb. He was the lead guitarist and a badass doing riffs.

Flint and Vapor were brothers. I’d known the guys most of my life growing up in California. Singe and Flint were best friends. We’d started playing music in our garages and basements, but when talk of forming a band had begun, I had bowed out. A dozen years ago, I’d had a feeling the guys would become big and known by millions. I’d been right.

They were active on social media and couldn’t go anywhere without being recognized. They never hide from the world—not like me.

Despite being all kinds of fucked up, I would do my damnedest to fill in for Vapor and the band. I owed them more than I could ever repay for sticking with me during my dark and suicidal times.

I would never let my buddies down. It wasn’t their fault I suffered from severe anxiety, depression, and panic attacks. Not their fault Vapor’s girlfriend was in hospice care and not expected to live another week. I’d trade places with Suri if I could. She and Vapor were meant to be together forever. Fucking leukemia.

Piper’s gorgeous face flashed behind my eyes. I still tasted her on my tongue. Heard her melodic moans… And smelled her.

I’d done her a favor when I made her leave. She might not realize it, but I saved her from me.

I’d dialed into the embarrassment in her voice. Sensed her hurt. But I did what needed to be done. I was too fucked up to be with anyone. I’d only destroy her.

“Pyro, did you hear me?” Flint barked. “I called your name twice, man.”

“What is it?”

Hustler, the manager of the casino, approached. “Tonight, a few extra special guests will be watching, and two will attend the after-party. I’d appreciate it if everyone would take pictures with my little sister. She’s your biggest fan.”

“That’s no problem at all. Right, Pyro?” Singe eyed me.

“But I’m only a stand-in tonight. Nobody cares about me.” I didn’t want to be dealing with fans or attend the party. I would, but I was dreading it.

Baz cleared his throat and joined us on the stage. He was Flint’s and Vapor’s cousin and the band’s manager. “I agree with Pyro. No one knows him, so he doesn’t need to be there.”

“Awesome.” Good old Baz. I’d have to thank him privately for having my back. We weren’t exactly close, but we’d known each other as long as I’d known the others. He came from a wealthy family and fronted the money to get the band going.

“I need him here,” Flint said. “I’m the leader, and I say he stays.”

“Sorry, man.” Baz shrugged.

“It’s fine.” It wasn’t, but what else could I say? Flint ruled, and I was only the stand-in. I came out from behind the drums and stalked toward the stairs.

“Where you going?” Flint asked.

“To call Vapor. I need a pep talk,” I shouted back without stopping. I had half a mind to find Piper to use her as my escape. Sex, drugs, and booze weren’t healthy methods of dealing with my shit, but they helped.

My blood pressure was on the rise. I had heart palpitations and difficulty breathing.

The fucking concert hadn’t even started. How would I get through the night?

I entered my room, tossed my sticks onto the bed, and went to the mini-fridge. Whiskey would take the edge off, but I’d need something stronger before getting on stage again.

I dialed Vapor as I guzzled the alcohol. He was expecting my call.

“Hey?” he answered in a whisper.

“If it’s a bad time, I can call back.”

“No, I need a break.”

“How’s she doing?”

“I don’t know. The same, I guess. She sleeps a lot. When she’s awake, she wants me to sing to her and talk about everything we were supposed to do together. It’s fucking killing me.”

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