Page 6 of Just Wait

“Fuck.” He grimaces. “Sorry, babe. I knew I forgot something. Want me to run over and grab you a plate from the catering truck?”

That’s probably my fault for not asking.

It also would have been nice if my boyfriend had thought about me when he was feeding himself while I was working on stuff for him.

“Nah, I’m fine. I’ll go over in a few minutes,” I say, shrugging. “But it might be better if you stick around with me next time after practice. If I can’t get any work in before they kick me out, I won’t be able to craft anything for you guys.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Theo says, but I can already tell he’s not listening. He has that faraway tone to his voice.

Whatever.

It benefits them.

If he’s not going to put in the effort, then I’m not going to stress myself out worrying about it.

Chapter Two

Kincaid

Touring is not all it’s cracked up to be, and we’re only five weeks into this particular circuit. I can’t imagine how done I’ll be once we’ve been at it for multiple months.

Malcolm is bored, which is never a good sign. It means there’s a high likelihood that my bandmate is about to do something to risk making us front-page news.

He’s unpredictable under the best of circumstances. We usually rotate who entertains his hyper ass, but I don’t have it in me today.

Mal is an incredible rhythm guitarist who can swap to lead when needed.

The fans lose their minds when we trade guitars on stage. Even if it’s a pain in the ass, that particular gimmick is worth it for the response from the audience.

Hell, he’s even done bass when we were in a pinch.

It’s not just Malcolm’s guitar skills that make him a valuable member of the band. He has a killer voice that blends well with mine.

That means we need his ass.

My eyes flit to Riser to see if he’s going to help settle Mal down. Our drummer doesn’t meet my gaze, since he’s busy flicking his lighter on and off, the metal clicking as it falls closed.

Boredom wafts off him in waves.

Yeah, we’re all good and bored, but Riser looks the most miserable.

He hasn’t been the same since we lost Drew.

Hell, none of us have been, but they were extremely close.

Like the rest of us, he’s blocked off any emotions regarding that situation and done his best to move on.

It’s not like Andrew is dead—at least, as far as I know—but truthfully, I won’t be shocked when we finally get the call. Our former bassist had the choice to clean up his act or leave. He chose banging H over the band.

We all understand how badly addiction can mess people up, but we practically begged him to stay away from that garbage. It’s what killed the greats, and no one is immune from withdrawal.

Drew is out there somewhere, lying, stealing, and relying on his good looks to keep his addiction fed.

Sometimes it really pisses me off when I think about it. He gave up a once-in-a-lifetime career to stay high all the time, and at least in my opinion, it’s pretty fucking unforgivable.

Other times?

I’m just sad.