Wheels of Fire

“We’ll let you get ready,” Thom says, steering us away.

“We’re cool, Thom. What’s the problem?” Alvin asks.

“Nothing, I want to talk to you for a second. Short set tonight. Just want to give people a taste. Work out some of the new stuff you’re planning to record.”

“Uh, yeah. We know how this works,” I answer.

He pushes open our dressing room door. Pamela and Jacob are busy talking. Huh, didn’t realize he knew how to talk to women. Garrett’s moved over to a table by himself and appears to be using his Walkman to tune them out.

“Mallory, will you go with me to the ladies’ room?” Pamela asks, standing and fixing her dress.

“Sure.”

I lean down and kiss Mallory’s cheek. “Don’t let anyone hassle you.”

“We’ll be fine.”

Jacob watches them leave, then scrubs his hands over his face. “She is the hottest fucking chick I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

“God help us,” Alvin mutters.

“She’s so sweet once you get past all that fake Barbie bullshit, too.” Jacob waves his hand at the door.

“Can you all discuss your love lives some other time?” Thom snaps his fingers in front of Jacob’s face. “Business mode, please.”

“This is his business mode.” Garrett slips off his headphones. “All the blood rushing to his cock, helps him think better.”

“It’s true,” Jacob confirms.

Thom groans.

Normally, I would’ve told Jacob and Garrett to knock it off by now, but I fully support them in antagonizing our manager, so I kick back and laugh while Jacob mimes jerking off and ejaculating all over the place.

“How the fuck you guys manage to accomplish anything is beyond me,” Thom fumes.

“This is our process.” Garrett blows him a kiss. “Deal with it.”

Jacob finally settles down and focuses his attention on me. “How do you feel about working some of the new song—'In Your Hands’ into the middle of ‘Queen of the Road’?” Jacob asks.

“Yeah, that was dope when you tried it at practice the other day,” Garrett chimes in.

“I was just messing around but I can make it work.”

“Is that new stuff?” Thom asks.

“Yeah,” Jacob answers. “Thought it might be fun to slip it in there. Shake things up a bit.”

“I like that,” Thom says, as if we asked for his blessing. I slide a look Alvin’s way and he lifts his gaze to the ceiling.

“How do you feel about Iron Kiss opening for you?” Thom asks, getting down to business whether we’re ready to or not.

“They seem cool,” Alvin says. “Still like to see them play before we make a final decision.”

“Do they reel in the fine, young snappers?” Jacob asks. “If so, they get my vote.” He waves his hand at me. “Chaser settling down with Mallory seems to be scaring all our hot groupies away.”

Garrett and Alvin both frown at him.

“Were you not just trying to dip your wick in Pamela’s inkwell?” Garrett asks.

“Dip my what, where?” Jacob grabs his crotch. “I’m at least a jumbo-size Sharpie.”

Alvin picks up a black marker from the table and studies it for a second before throwing it at Jacob. “I wouldn’t brag about that, bro.”

Thom’s face isn’t getting any less beet-red. “How have you not seen them play live yet?”

Kudos to Thom for side-stepping that whole dick-size detour. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’ve been a little busy on the road and writing material for the new album.”

“I don’t see the fire lately, guys.” Thom presses his fist against his gut. “I was always impressed with how hungry you were. You need that recapture that raw, gutter-punk edge that got you here.”

“Told ya.” Jacob points at me.

“There’s nothing wrong with growing artistically,” Alvin says.

“I’m talking about knowing your competition too.” Thom points to the door. “You knew every band on the strip back in the day. I know you did.”

“You’ve been managing us for ten minutes. Don’t lecture us on how we got here,” Garrett growls.

“It’s a big deal for us to headline, Thom,” I say as diplomatically as possible, since I’d rather punch him a few times instead. “We want to make a thoughtful decision.”

Alvin ducks his head and laughs.

I look over each of the guys. “We’ve worked hard to get to where we are right now—artistically, physically, and mentally. I’m not willing to jeopardize that by taking some random punks out on the road with us.”

“I’m glad everyone’s kicked their bad…habits.” Thom might as well be a hippo in a tutu dancing through a mind field while he tries to tiptoe around the word heroin. “But your…health is your responsibility. Every band…parties to some degree.”

Garrett lifts his arms and slow claps. “Ten points for not calling us drug addicts. Bravo, Thom.”

“Why are you guys busting my balls about this?”

I slap Thom’s shoulder. “We can’t afford any slip-ups. We’re being cautious.”

I catch Jacob’s eye and he stares back. While he’s stayed clean since Texas, I keep getting the impression he feels sobriety is a diet he can go off of once he hits a magic number, instead of a permanent lifestyle change. To say I’m worried about what the next few months will bring is a massive understatement.

Our worst nightmare would be him diving back into the junk while we’re on the road. I’ll do whatever I can to stop that from happening.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Mallory

The day I’ve been dreading is finally here.

“I’m going to miss you so much.” Chaser leans in and kisses my forehead. “Can’t wait for you to come visit.”

“Me too.”

“I’ll try to scope out a few places so we can do some sight-seeing. Eat some good food.”

“As long as I’m with you, I don’t care.”

“Thom says the house they rented for us is pretty big.”

“You sure you can tolerate living with the guys again?” I tease.

“No.”

Alvin comes up behind Chaser and jumps on his back, hugging him around the neck. “You’re excited. I can tell.”

“You miss us. Admit it, ya fucker!” Garrett shouts.

Chaser coughs and pulls Alvin off him. “I really don’t.”

“We miss you,” I whisper and wink at Alvin.

He walks over and gives me a gentler hug. “I’ll take good care of him, Mallory.”

“Take care of each other.” I tap his chest. “I expect sonic awesomeness from you guys.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Alvin salutes me and walks off.

“Still stuck on that sonic awesomeness, huh?” Chaser’s lips twitch in amusement.

“Yup, so if you use it in a song, I want credit.”

“Fuck, I’m going to miss you.” He picks me up and spins me around in a brief circle before setting me down in the grass. “Nail your auditions. Don’t take any shit from anyone. And if you get that callback from Ocean Ave. I want to know right away.”

“I will.” I swallow hard and force a smile on my face. This is it. They’re leaving. We decided last night I wouldn’t go to the airport with them. Chaser didn’t want to risk any paparazzi bothering me when he couldn’t be there to keep them awa

y.

He cups my face and tips my head back. “I’ll call you every night at eleven, okay? I’ll get you the numbers for the studio and the house. Call me whenever you need to. For any reason.”

“I will.” I reach up and squeeze him tight one last time. “Sonic awesomeness, Chaser.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chaser

Adapt or die. My dad tosses that saying around the clubhouse when brothers bitch about trying something new. Such as “the government’s coming down hard on drug selling of any kind, maybe it’s time the club look into selling weapons.” Adapt or die in prison, in that case.

My situation is less dire. Turns out, when everyone told us Mark Cutter was a demanding producer, I should’ve listened.

Talk about regimented. We’re not in the studio for a few hours a day and then left to run wild through the streets of Vancouver like Jacob had hoped. No, Mark puts us on a schedule that includes bed times and wake times.

Jacob didn’t take it well. Hell, none of us were thrilled. But Mark wasn’t cheap and we’ve produced some quality material the last couple weeks, so we adapted.

Adapt or languish in obscurity. We need to get this album out before people forget who we are.

The shower spray I’m currently under suddenly turns ice-cold. “What the fuck!” I yell, slapping the water off.

What I haven’t adapted to yet—living with these three clowns again.

Yup. Mark Cutter insisted we all rent a house together. It’s a big house, plenty of room to get away from each other but close enough for Jacob to wander into my room at all hours every single time a lyric pops into his head.

I snap a towel off the hook, wrap it around my waist, and storm out of the bathroom in search of someone to strangle. At least when the hot water runs out at home, it’s because Mallory and I were busy fucking in the shower. “Why the fuck is there no hot water?”

“Sorry, bro!” I only get a glimpse of Jacob’s naked ass scampering up the steps with two equally wet and naked females, but it’s enough to put the pieces together.

“Fucker,” I grumble.