The Trouble with Rock Stars: Jackson's Story (Access All Areas 3)

“Are we having a guitar lesson today?” Drew asked.

I waved him away. What the hell good were guitar lessons? He could work and practice and get better but, in the end, it was just playing guitar. That wasn’t worth a piece of shit in this world.

“Hey, I heard from Violet,” Carlie said. “She says the tour is going great guns. They’re living the dream.”

I just grunted. Nice for them.

“Jackson, you are fucking shit, you know that. You can’t even manage a snide comment anymore. You’re drinking way too much and your face is so sour, it’s making the beer turn. If you don’t get your act together, I’m going to have you banned from here.”

I grunted again. It didn’t even matter. There were other bars. The world was full of places to drink.

Carlie and Drew exchanged glances. I hoped they weren’t getting any fool ideas. I needed to be left alone. To sit in my corner and drink and brood about my life.

“Jackson, I think you’d feel better if you talked about things instead of bottling them up inside you,” Drew said.

“Scram, kid.”

“There’s no shame in admitting you need help, Jackson.”

Talking about my problems, what good would that do? I had a ton of problems and no living person needed that burden. Carlie and Drew had seen the fight but they didn’t know what caused it. No one had asked and I sure as hell wasn’t volunteering the information. Fred had come into the bar, talking shit at me again. Hadn’t the sense to get the message the first time.

I’d tried to swat him off, like an annoying insect, but that hadn’t worked. He kept pushing it.

“You’ll never get another thing off me,” I’d told him. “I owe you nothing. But you owe me a whole fucking life.”

He’d recoiled when I’d said that.

“You can blame me all you like but you’re an adult. You made your own decisions. You can turn me into the bad guy but that won’t change the truth. Just like I made my decisions. I got really fucked up, but I pulled myself out of that. It’s not like I put the knife in your hand.”

I snorted. I didn’t need to listen to his story. He’d got his life together, good for him.

“We were on top, we had it all and you could only think about where your next hit was coming from. I should’ve left way before things got to that stage. You lied, you cheated, you stole from us because of your shitty addiction. So, don’t come around here asking favors from me. You used all your points up years ago.”

He twisted away from me.

“Maybe we shouldn’t get into it. It’s ancient history now.”

The guilt flashed in his eyes. I probably had a truckload of guilt in my own too, I’d fucked things up for the guys, I knew that. But I’d never screwed them over.

“You opened it up. Don’t like where it’s going now, though?”

Without thinking, I’d gone to scratch my arm. That damn splint. He saw it.

“You had the operation? Finally, you got it fixed. You should’ve done that in the first place.”

That’s when I grabbed him. I knocked him off his stool. He spun but righted himself and stood to face me. Fred was quick on his feet. I’d learned that the hard way. Even strung out beyond reason, he’d come at me. I’d found his stash once, hidden in his guitar case. He’d been about a gram of shit this side of overdose, not able to sing, barely able to stand up for days on end. He’d get on stage and need his mic stand to stay upright, groaning his way through our songs. He was covered in scabs and bruises. He had nothing in him to give.

When I found that stash, I figured the best thing to do was flush it. He’d get more, he could always get more but maybe it’d take a few days. Enough for him to get some sense into him.

I had the bag in my hand, standing over the sink when he found me. He gave a blood-curdling scream and flung himself at me. I was prepared for that. I fought him off. He was as thin as a reed and had no strength. Probably hadn’t eaten a proper meal in months. What I wasn’t prepared for was the venom in him.

He fought like a bitch and he knew my every weakness. We’d been friends since we were teenagers. We’d saved each other’s lives in so many ways and the bond between us went deep but we’d had enough fights in our time. That night though, he hadn’t been mucking around. You could see it on his face. If he could’ve killed me that night, he would’ve. Nothing came between him and the smack.

Now, I knew how he’d felt. When Fred stood in front of me in the bar, that mockery in his eyes, nothing else mattered. I’d been waiting five years to punch him out. Even though I’d buried it, my hatred ran deep. At that moment, it’d been deeper than anything else in this world. If I could’ve obliterated him then, I would’ve.

I only became aware of what I was doing when I heard Gina scream. I was in the bar, I had Fred up against the wall and everything hurt.

What could I say to her? The disappointment in her eyes cut me deeper than any knife. I’d wanted to be whole for her. Instead, I’d ruined everything. There was nothing I could do to make up for it.