Page 244 of Silver Sweet

“I don’t have a crystal ball, Tom. But I knowyou. I know you don’t need a pill to succeed. You never did. Whatever’s going on in your head, telling you differently, ignore that. Listen to someone else for a change.”

Fuck, why is listening so hard? I bite my thumbnail and stare at the marble tiles on the floor. I know what I have to do, but it’s so monumentally difficult getting myself mentally there.

“If you don’t want to listen to me,” my dad adds, “listen to the person in your band. I’m almost positive he won’t let your dream end.”

Phoenix.My dad mentioning him sends a wave of emotion through me. It swells my chest. Crashes on top of my lungs. I have to do this for Phoenix.I know that. There’s no way around it.

“I hate being this scared,” I say, my voice cracking at the end.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of, mon fils.” His eyes fill mine with the confidence and certainty of centuries past and present. “You’re going to be okay.”

His reassurance is something I didn’t know I needed, but it brings oxygen into my lungs. My eyes redden and I nod.

“What are you going to do?” he asks me.

“I’m going to quit taking the Adderall,” I say into a deeper exhale. “Today. Right now. Flush it down the toilet when I get back to my room.”

“Okay,” he says.

“Okay?” I frown. “This is the part where you tell me how proud you are of me. I overcame a hurdle. I’m facing my fears. All that jazz.”

His lips lift into an amused smile. “Call me back when it’s done.” His eyes carry more tenderness. “I love you, Tom.”

I nod over and over. I see it. I feel it. “I love you too, Dad.”

56

PHOENIX ST. PIERRE

Icould prepare for a lot, but there is no way I could ever prepare for this.

It has nothing to do with Tom flushing all the pills Evening Glory gave him. I was prepared for that moment and so fucking happy when it came after he talked to his dad. Even happier when he shookecstasyinto the toilet.

“I never took it,” he defended.

“Right, you’re just carrying it around to keep your Adderall company,” I said dryly.

“Exactly. Look, it’s gone.” He gestured toward the hotel toilet in Indianapolis, a smile hooking his mouth. “That deserves applause.” He applauded himself, then motioned for me to join.

“I’m not clapping for you, nepo baby.”

“No?” He gave me this stupidly cute smile.

“No.” I stepped closer, staring at his lips, and I kissed him instead. His smile grew against mine.

Tom proved to himself he didn’t need the drugs after all. Indianapolis ended up being one of our best shows, but on our way to Detroit, Tom crashed hard on the bus. He greeted Nothing Personal with dark sunglasses and a cranky attitude.

“You break your boyfriend?” Birdie asked me with a laugh.

I shoved his arm.

He shoved mine back, and we shared a rising smile.

It took a couple more shows for Nothing Personal to warm up to Tom—once they realized the Cobalt god doesn’t take himself too seriously and his terseness was a one-off thing. Unlike his, my moodiness never goes away, as Scally so lovingly pointed out.

By the time we reach Cincinnati, Steffi and Scally film goofy lip-sync videos with Tom like they’re all long-lost friends. I join in for more than one. Birdie and Neil too.

Having my brother around makes this feel more complete—the dream. The one we chased after most of our lives. We might not be playing in the same rock band like we imagined as teenagers, but this is starting to feel like a once-in-a-lifetime kind of tour we’re able to experience together. Because our bands aren’t just doing well.