Page 110 of Crimson Desires

“Hi, Ava. Look, some... extenuating circumstances have come up. I need to go home. This tour has been an amazing experience for me. I’m grateful to you for allowing me to join it, and I’m sorry for any inconvenience that my absence might cause. I don’t want to get into detail about what happened. All I ask is that you keep Jack Maverick the fuck away from me. Okay? Goodbye.”

I could hardly believe what I was hearing. “Aster sent that? Where is she?”

“She sent it while we were recording with The Wish. And as far as where she is, your security guard informed me that he drove her to the Detroit Metro Airport several hours ago. He was under the impression that she was already cleared to leave. I had to take over the merch booth last minute,” Ava said. She pocketed her phone. “Jack, you need to tell me right fucking now—what did you do to that girl?”

My head spun.

I felt like I had been thrown into a black hole—like gravity was ripping me apart and squeezing me together all at once.

“I didn’t do anything, Ava. I have no idea what’s going on,” I said, my voice cracking. “Please, you have to believe me.”

“I don’t have to do shit,” Ava said. “Jack, this is bad. Aster still hasn’t released her statement about what happened with Arnold Renner. And if she’s left, that means she might not be planning to. Worse, I wouldn’t put it past Arnold’s legal team to have offered her an NDA deal.”

“Ava, is that all you fucking care about right now?” I snapped. “Something might’ve happened to Aster, and you’re worried about some PR?”

“Your PR, Jack. Your fucking PR!” Ava shot back. “And yes, I do care about it! That’s my job! I’m your tour manager!”

“Well, I don’t need you to be my tour manager right now, Ava. I need you to be my fucking friend.” My fists were clenched into tight balls. My chest heaved with effort. “Shit! Why would Aster leave? Is everything okay with her dad? I... I’m worried, Ava.”

Ava’s hard expression cracked. Her shoulders relaxed. She averted her eyes to the ground. “Jack, I’m sure she’s fine. I know you’re stressed right now. Believe me, I get it. But you need to remember that you’re not the only one being affected by this media shitstorm, okay? You’re the frontman of Wicked Crimson. The things you do reflect upon all of us.”

It was the same thing my father had said to me when we’d talked in Charlotte.

If anyone ever asked me the biggest con of pivoting from being a solo artist to being an artist in a band, I’d say this: when I was a solo artist, the shitty things I did only ever affected me. Maybe that’s where I learned how to be such a selfish dickhead. But now that I was in a band, everything I did—I had to think of the consequences it might have on the other people that relied on me.

At that moment, I wanted to leave. I wanted to abandon the tour, cancel the Cleveland show, and get on the next flight to Boston so that I could find Aster and fix whatever it was I had done wrong.

But I couldn’t. Because I knew that canceling the show wouldn’t just be hurting me—it would be hurting everyone. Ava, Damien, Zephyr, Axel, Kane, and all production crew members who had busted their asses to make Wicked Crimson a reality.

“Jack, whether or not Aster is here, you have a job to do,” Ava said. “We have one more show in Cleveland. You have to perform.”

“I know,” I said. “And then what? Post-tour shit, right?”

Ava and Dad had planned a quick media circuit to follow the final show in Cleveland. It was only supposed to last for a week—but the thought of wasting time answering the same five questions on radio talk shows when I could be finding Aster killed me a little.

Ava placed a hand on my shoulder. “Speaking as your manager, the post-tour circuit is vital to transition the band from hype over the tour to hype for the second album.” She smiled, just barely. “But speaking as your friend, we’ll figure out a way for you to do it virtually. As soon as we’re done with Cleveland, I want you to buy a ticket to Boston, and I want you to get Aster back.”

I quirked a brow. “Do you just want me to find her so that she can release her statement about Killing Kiss?”

Ava laughed. “Fuck, no. I want you to find her because, whether you meant to or not, you hurt her somehow. And if you don’t make things right with that fucking girl, I swear to God, I’m going to kill you.”

“Okay,” I said. “I can live with that answer.”

“Now, go to your tour bus, and get some sleep.”

I obeyed, heading back to the bus. When I got on, my expression alone was enough to warn the guys not to bother me.

Physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted, I hopped into my bunk. I closed my eyes, letting the rumble of the bus’s engine ease me to rest.

Just one more show, Aster, I thought. Just one more show, and then I’m coming to make this right.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Aster

The first thing I did upon returning to Boston was call Melinda.

“Hi, dear. Is something the matter?” Melinda asked.

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