I give him a tiny nod and close my eyes, pretending to be swept away by the painkillers. “Oh, I forgot,” I wearily tilt my head as James reaches the door, “can you hand me my cellphone?”
He turns back to me and gives me a sad smile, his broad chest and shoulders deflating a bit at my request. “Sorry love, it was damaged in the assault. It was completely unusable so I got rid of it. I’ll get you a new one when you go home with me.” His eyes turn to hard flints of stone just before he spins and leaves the room. Once he’s gone, the machine loudly registers my speeding pulse.
I have no way to reach Adam. No way to tell him what happened. He doesn’t know how to find me because I wouldn’t let him have my address. He’ll think I used him, lied to him, then forgot about him completely. That I abandoned him just like everyone else in his life.
I close my eyes and try to hold back the tears, knowing that they’ll just make my head hurt worse than it already does, but I can’t stop them. Tears come and they come hard, in huge sobs wracking my broken body.
Fate has once again decided to be cruel to us. To give us a small taste of happiness only to yank it out from under us, and there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it.
31
Adam
“Dude, you don’t even seem excited. This is the fucking Grammy’s we’re going to!” A harder than necessary punch to my arm follows Hawke’s near-hysteric delight.
“Ow, don’t be a bastard,” I gripe back at him, rubbing my arm and scowling.
“Jesus Adam, lighten the fuck up already.” Dax growls from across the back of the stretch limo. “Your game face is going to be ready for the red carpet tonight, right?”
“It’s always fucking ready, isn’t it?” I snarl back. I recline on the plush seats, the smell of expensive leather surrounding me. I drag a hand down my face and sigh. “Sorry mate. I’m just beat, that’s all. It’s been a killer month.”
Dax gives me his best ‘are you kidding me’ look. “We’ve been to all of the same events that you have Adam. Flown the same number of miles, performed on the same stages, given the same interviews… we know how fucking tiring it is. If you would just get an assistant to help you out.”
Shame floods my face at my selfishness. It’s not their fault that I’m a moody prick. Well, it sort of is. I need a drink, which is on me, but I can’t have one and that’s on them. They’re the ones who staged the intervention and forced me into rehab for my drinking. They’re the ones who said they’d quit the band if I didn’t stop trying to drown myself in alcohol every day.
I laughed and didn’t want to hear a word that they said. ‘I’m a grown man and I’ll do whatever the fuck I want’, is what I believe I said to them. It was when Dax told me that I reminded him of my dad that I sobered up right quick. He was right, I was turning into the biggest prick I’d ever met and never stopped long enough to see it happening.
When Ellie cut off all contact with me after our hotel tryst a little over a year ago, I’d hit the bottle harder than I ever had before and never looked back. Six months later, my band mates were giving me an ultimatum.
Now, after spending six weeks in rehab last year, the release of our best selling album to date, and numerous Grammy nominations for it, I’m just plain worn out. And without my go-to way to relax, a bottle of fine whiskey, I’m tense and overtired all the time. It’s getting better, but only marginally. I just have to figure out who I am, because without Ellie and without the booze, I have no fucking clue who Adam Reynolds is.
“Alright boys, it’s our turn next. Are you ready for the greatest night of your career so far?” Our manager, Ross, is clasping his hands and grinning.
Hawke, Dax, and Gavin all cheer and make noise while I sit there and mope. We all decided to forgo bringing dates tonight. Since none of us are in a serious relationship we thought we’d make a show of solidarity and arrive together. I take a couple of deep breaths and ready my game face, the ever present, happy go lucky Adam that the fans and the media love.
“Let’s do it!” I put on a smile and straighten out the jacket of the Armani tux that I decided to wear with just a tight grey T-shirt underneath instead of shirtsleeves and a tie. Full on tuxedos are just too stuffy for rock stars. I brush my fingers over my chest, right where my heart is, and get ready to face the madness.
The limo glides to a stop, the valet rushing over to open the door for us. When we start to climb out, the flashbulbs and crowd explode, surrounding us with delighted squeals and blinding strobe lights. Our names are being yelled from so many directions it’s hard to know where to look.
“Christ, it’s insane,” Dax says loudly so I can hear him over the noise.
I smile and nod at him, walking forward so the whole band can get together on the carpet for photos.
A nearby group of teenaged girls screams Hawke’s name and his head whips around in reaction. The young ones really love him. He’s all innocent and boyish looking on the surface. He didn’t even bother dressing up today, wearing his usual shirt, dark trousers, and chucks on the red carpet. If they really knew him, they’d die of shock. Innocent and boyish aren’t words that I’d use to describe one of my best mates.
Gavin seems especially nervous tonight, his eyes darting left and right, scanning the crowd anxiously. I can’t even compare my problems to his. He must be a wreck, but if he is, he’s hiding it well.
We make our way up the carpet, doing the usual interviews, answering all of the same boring questions. I catch Ross’ eye and he smiles at me, obviously pleased with my attitude and my responses to the reporters’ inquiries. He probably thought I’d come stomping down the carpet scowling, but we all manage to make it inside unscathed and without scandal.
“Hey, we’re up in two,” Gavin says from behind me. We’re already an hour into the ceremony and it’s time to play our nominated song. I face my friend and see that some color has returned to his previously pale complexion now that we’re off the carpet.
“Yeah, I’m ready.” We have to wait backstage for our turn to perform. Naturally, we can’t just wear our red carpet outfits, we have to change into something else before we take the stage. Sometimes, I feel like a damn woman with all of the wardrobe crap I have to deal with.
“Alright man, this is it. The big stage!” Hawke is practically bursting with giddiness as he moves to my side.
I eye him strangely. “You alright? You’re, I don’t know… too happy or something.”
He cracks a giant grin and winks at me. “I’m great Adam, just great. Hey, it’s our turn.”