Wheels of Fire

“No, we’ll do a big showy spectacle for our families when your dad gets out.” I roll her on top of me. “But I can’t wait that long for you to be my wife.”

She cups

my face with her hands and leans down for a kiss. “I love that idea.”

I hold up my left hand, showing off my ring finger. “Every fucking tabloid will seize on it if I start wearing a wedding band. I’m thinking of getting your name tattooed here instead.”

“Ouch. Won’t that hurt?”

“Nah.” I brush my fingertips over my arms and chest. “No worse than any of these did.”

“You sure…you want something…so permanent?”

I squint at her. “You really need to ask?”

She presses her lips over my heart and peers up at me. “I think it’s kinda sexy.”

The shrill ring of the phone next to the bed jars us out of our love bubble.

“Yes, I’ll come with you,” she answers before I roll over to scoop up the phone.

“Hello, Adams-Dove Loveshack, Chaser speaking.”

Mallory presses her forehead to my chest and giggles.

“Chaser.” Alvin’s shaky voice wipes the smile off my face.

“What’s wrong?” I sit up so fast, Mallory spins onto the mattress with a soft thump.

“Chaser.” He breaks down. Bawling so hard I can barely understand him.

Chills race down my spine. “Alvin. Talk to me. What happened?”

Mallory kneels next to me. “What’s going on?” she mouths.

I shrug, waiting for Alvin to calm down.

“Jacob overdosed. They found him this morning. Outside Creeping Vine.”

“Oh shit. What hospital?” I jump out of bed, swiping my jeans off the floor and shaking them out. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“No.” Alvin sniffles and in that brief pause, the truth barrels down on me. “He’s dead, Chaser.”

Still holding onto the phone, I fall against the edge of the bed, sliding down until my ass hits the floor. “Are you sure?”

He lets out a humorless laugh. “Yes.”

“Fuck. Oh my God.” A thousand waves of guilt crash over my head. I should have gone to the after party with the guys.

The buzz of the rarely used television we keep in the bedroom pulls my attention. Mallory turns the volume all the way down but a picture of Jacob’s smiling face next to the stony-faced VJ delivering the news drives the truth home.

Jacob Whitfield, lead singer of Kickstart, found dead at age twenty-three.

Sobbing, Mallory drops down on the foot of the bed and covers her face with her hands.

“What the hell happened?” I shout into the phone.

“I don’t know.” He cries even harder. “He was drunk but fine when I left.”

“Where’s Garrett?”

“I don’t know. He took off as soon as he heard about Jacob.”

“Did he stay with Jacob after you left?”

“I don’t know!” Alvin yells.

“Okay. I’m sorry. What do you need me to do?”

“Nothing. There’s nothing to do. We’re done. Over. Our singer’s dead. We can’t replace him. The band’s finished.”

I hadn’t gotten that far in my thought process yet.

This isn’t real. It can’t be happening. I open my mouth to refute one of those statements, but nothing comes out.

“Thom said he’ll take care of the funeral arrangements if his parents won’t—” He starts crying again and I feel so fucking useless, sitting there holding a phone listening to my friend break down with no way to comfort him.

Chapter Sixty-Two

Mallory

It’s a blustery, cold day for California the day of Jacob’s funeral.

“Are you ready?” I ask Chaser.

He steps away from the mirror, adjusting his tie. “Jacob would laugh his ass off if he saw me wearing this thing.”

The humorless joke is better than the days Chaser spent riddled with guilt and drowning in despair.

“He probably would.” I reach up and smooth a few runaway spikes of hair off his forehead. A sob catches in my throat. “I feel so bad for teasing him about his outfit the night…the last time…”

He presses his finger against my lips. “Shh. He loved clowning around with everyone.” He takes my hands and steps back. “You look pretty.”

I kept it simple—a black dress with elbow-length sleeves, modest neckline, and a flared skirt that falls below my knees. “Thank you.”

We stop at Alvin’s house and pick him up first. The guys are silent for most of the time as I drive the hour north to where Jacob’s parents live.

Chaser casts a hesitant look at the cemetery. Reporters are held back by wooden barricades, but plenty have cameras at the ready.

“Vultures,” Alvin grumbles.

They chase after my car for a bit but are finally stopped by security.

A large crowd dressed mostly in black announces where we’re supposed to go.

Chaser grabs my hand. Alvin looks so bereft, I slip my other hand into his and pull him along. He gives me a brief, sad smile.

Garrett’s standing with a young woman who looks an awful lot like Jacob. He lifts his chin when he spots us.

“Hey, Janey.” Chaser leans in and hugs her. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

She sniffles and accepts the brief embrace but doesn’t seem to be able to respond.

Alvin hugs her too and she ends up clinging to him until an older couple joins us.

“Hello, Mr. Whitfield,” Chaser greets.

“I don’t want to speak to you.” He glares at Alvin and Garrett. “Any of you. Stay for the service and then leave.”

“I’m sorry,” Jane mouths as her father pulls her away.

“Wow,” Alvin mutters.

“What’d we expect?” Garrett glares at the man’s retreating back. “He did fuck-all for Jacob. Why would it be any different now?”

“Let’s just get through this,” Alvin says. “We can deal with them later.”

Unfortunately for Jacob’s parents, they’re outnumbered by the very people they want to avoid. Musicians, models, actors, Jacob was more loved than I think he ever realized.

Thom tries speaking to the Whitfields, but their conversation looks brief and tense from where we’re standing. He finally retreats and joins us.

He gives Garrett and Alvin a fatherly hug and pat on the back before nodding at Chaser and me. “We’re going to have a gathering at The Palace afterwards. I tried inviting them, but …”

“It’s okay,” Chaser says. “Thanks for trying.”

“We’re not going to The Palace to fucking celebrate,” Garrett spits out.

“No, no,” Thom says quickly. “A memorial. Rich is shutting the whole place down. It’s only open to friends and family.”

“We were his family.” Garrett glares at Chaser. “And we treated him like shit.”

“You really want to do this now?” Chaser asks in a tired voice.

“Guys, settle down,” Thom urges. “This isn’t the time or place.”

Across the cemetery I spot a familiar figure. I whisper to Chaser that I’ll be right back and walk over to meet her.

“Hi, Val.”

“Mallory,” she sobs, pulling me into a tight embrace. “What happened?”

Practically choking on her heavy floral perfume, I draw back. “We’re not sure about all the details.” And the ones we do know are too gruesome to spill where anyone could overhear.

“Poor Jacob.” She pulls a tissue out of her pocket and swipes it over her nose.

“Hey, Val.” Chaser joins us, hands in his pockets. “Fair warning, his parents aren’t speaking to any of us.”

She snorts. “They never forgave him for dropping out of school when I signed you guys.”

“Nope.” He shrugs.

“Are you okay?”

“No, Valerie. I’m not.”

Alvin joins us next, hugging Valerie tight. “I can’t believe you’d show up after how we—”

“Not now, honey,” she says gently. “Of course, I’d be here.”

Chairs have been set up around the gr

avesite for the service. I spot a number of familiar faces—Vickie, and Dorothy, Holly sitting with Jacob’s sister, the two girls clinging to each other and weeping. I nod to Pamela and Vinnie but ignore Andrew. More faces that I vaguely remember from the nights they played shows on the strip. The owners of bars, members from rival bands, roadies, and bouncers.

The first row on the left side seems to have been reserved for us. Chaser and I take the last two chairs. Maybe he wants to be able to make a quick escape. He’s so blank, expressionless, showing no emotion other than squeezing my hand every now and then.

A priest reads all the usual funeral passages. After that, Jacob’s father stands. I brace myself for whatever he’s about to say.

“Today we join thousands of families who lay their loved ones to rest due to addiction. Our hearts are broken. We tried for years to save him and couldn’t.” He breaks down and finally returns to his seat.

Garrett stands up.

“Fuck,” Chaser mutters under his breath.

“Jacob’s my best friend.” Garrett’s voice cracks. “He was my only friend when I first moved to this country.” His mouth twitches and he scuffs the toe of his boot against the grass. “Forced me to play bass when I wanted to be the singer. He was a forceful little wanker when he wanted to be.” Garrett sweeps his arm Alvin and Chaser’s way. “We struggled with how to help Jacob. Our hearts are broken too. Jacob was only twenty-three. He accomplished so much in such a short time and he wanted to do so much more. He lived his life to the fullest and touched thousands of lives.” His voice breaks again. He hangs his head and finally sits without another word.

Chaser stands, clearing his throat. He reaches over and squeezes Garrett’s shoulder. “Jacob could be as stubborn as he was passionate. He worked hard and cared deeply. The pages of his book will never be closed. We will always remember him through the music he wrote and the lives he touched.” He slowly turns his head toward the shiny black casket. “You will never be forgotten.” Chaser drops into his seat resting his elbows on his knees and head in his hands. Someone else stands to speak and I tune them out, focusing on Chaser.

I run my hand over his back and lean close. “That was sweet.”