Rush (Pandemic Sorrow #2) (17 page)

My fingers relaxed and I hung my head. “Fuck, I don’t know. There’s just a lot—” My phone rang, and I pulled it from my pocket.

Pax glared through the windshield of my car. “What the hell is Jules doing with you?”

Seeing that it was Stone calling, I ignored that question and answered the phone. “Did you find him?”

“Man, this isn’t looking good. I’m at Joe’s right now. Jag changed his will. He came the fuck over here and
changed
his will, leaving everything to Roxy. We got to find him before he kills himself. He’s gonna kill himself!” I’d never heard Stone sound so helpless. “If he hasn’t already.” He let go of a breath that sounded almost like he was choking on a sob. “I went over to his house. He wasn’t there, but he had ‘Nutshell’ on repeat. It was blaring through his damn house.”

I covered my mouth with my hand and stared at the concrete. I didn’t know what to say.

Stone mumbled, “I’m gonna try going by Roxy’s.” He didn’t wait for a response, he just hung up.

I dropped my hand to my side, ending the call.

Pax shook me out of the daze I was in, asking, “What the fuck is going on, Rush?”

I didn’t say anything to Pax for a second. I went to the car and yanked the door open, shouting, “Well, I guess I’ll see you at his funeral!”

All the color washed from Pax’s face. “Rush! Rush!” he yelled, but instead of discussing it with him, I was a complete ass and backed out of the driveway.

“He’s dead?” Jules gasped when I put the car in drive; tears had already broken free from her eyes and were streaming down her full cheeks.

“I don’t fucking know. He changed his will. I think he’s just done. I think he’s worn the fuck out and feels hopeless.”

She sucked in a quick breath. “What do we do?”

I snorted, turning onto the ramp and merging onto the interstate. “We had our chance to do something. What can we do now?”

I was almost in a trance as I drove home. The yellow haze from the streetlamps washed over the black hood of my car, and I just went on autopilot. I thought about how selfish I’d become; really, how selfish and arrogant
we’d
all grown. Sacrificing a few days a year to do charity work didn’t make me selfless, it just made me feel like I still had some type of soul.

Six years ago, I would have recognized that my best friend needed help; I would have realized that I was compounding his problems, and I would have been a friend. But I had been more concerned with my own fame than I was his well-being.

I was ashamed and angry. I’d lost myself, and in doing so I was pretty sure I would soon be getting the call that I’d lost my friend too.

Chapter 23

I’d only gotten about an hour of sleep, and then, first thing in the morning, I got that call.

Stone called and told us that Jag had flown out to Savannah and overdosed on heroin in the cemetery where his dad was buried.

At that point I had no idea if he would live because they hadn’t released his condition yet, but the hospital had evidently told their mother that if he pulled through, he would most likely be brain-dead.

That news destroyed us all.

When I hung up the phone and told Jules she wept. She crumpled to the living room floor in a heap of sobs.

Guilt and remorse, loss and anger all bolted through me, completely tearing me down. I sank next to Jules on the floor, head bowed as I held her. She sobbed and I just sat there, crumbling to mush on the inside.

In the middle of my personal breakdown, Pax called and, even though I didn’t want to, I answered it.

I could barely make out him rambling that it was all his fault, and I could hear River wailing in the background.

We all felt like it was our fault, and really, we all had some blame in it. Every last one of us.

Several minutes later, James called and assigned Jules the task of calling Roxy. James felt Jules would be the best able to handle it, and, of course, he was too busy dealing with the press to do it himself.

Not even an hour after we’d been notified, Jag’s overdose was all over the news.

Breaking news: Pandemic Sorrow’s front man overdoses in his hometown.

Jag Steele near death.

The Pandemic Sorrow of addiction.

Jules got up to go to her car, and before she’d made it to the foyer, I heard her cursing. “The media is all up in front of your house. Assholes! Do they not realize we’re people, that this has
crushed
us? This isn’t a publicity stunt, or some damn photo-op!” She stomped back into the living room, her nostrils flaring, and I could tell she was on the verge of an emotional breakdown again.

“Hey, calm down. I’ll handle it. Just sit down, okay?” I rubbed over her back and sat her down on the couch. “What did you need?”

“I just need my purse. I have Roxy’s number in the business phone.”

I nodded and took the keys from her hands.

Glancing out the windows at the sea of reporters and the caravan of media vans lining the street, everything in me grew more unsettled.

I reached for the door, shaking. Having to face these assholes was more nerve-racking than going on stage for the first time because they were about to tear into personal pieces of me. With no regard to me or Jag, or even the true fans of Pandemic Sorrow, they were going to unknowingly gut me.

Sweat formed between my hand and the doorknob as my pulse hammered, and I didn’t have the first idea of how to answer any of the pending questions, so I decided I wouldn’t say anything.

The sun nearly blinded me when I stepped out onto the porch. I kept my eyes trained on the ground, watching my feet as I made my way to Jules’ car. Then came a thousand questions, mics suddenly jolted out toward me and cameras aimed at me; it was a scenario I was all too used to that felt uncomfortably unfamiliar in that moment.

“How do you feel about Jag overdosing again?”

“Critical condition. Do you expect him to pull through?”

“Did you know he had slipped back into addiction?”

“Is the industry to blame for this?”

“Did the recent breakup with his short-term girlfriend cause this?”

Ignoring all of those questions, I quickly unlocked Jules’ car and grabbed her purse, slammed the door, and made my way back to my house.

Then came a flood of questions that tore me down.

“Why didn’t you help him, Rush?”

They used my name. The just personally blamed me.

“How does this make you feel?”

Like shit. It hurts. It sucks. Fuck off.

Just a few more steps, and I would be in my house.

“What will this do to the band?”

“They’ve said he’ll suffer brain damage if he lives. Any idea who you’ll replace him with?”

I opened the door and chucked Jules’ purse inside, then turned around and stomped toward the end of my driveway. Rage pummeled through me, heating my skin; my nostrils flared and, with each breath, an audible growl came out.

“Who the fuck cares about the band? I don’t! Fuck the band and fuck you, you worthless pieces of shit!” I scanned the faces, shock now washing over several of them at my sudden outburst. The microphones retracted a little, and I grabbed at one of them, jerking it from the man’s hand and hurling it across my lawn.

One man, aware that I was breaking, bravely asked, “Is it true that your manager encourages drug use?”

“Yeah, he gives us kilos of coke for bonuses. What the hell do you think? We’re rock stars, we’re not fucking superheroes. You try living this life for one day and see how you handle it!”

I shoved the man standing closest to me, causing him to trip and fall into the crowd behind him. “Get off my property. He’s a person. He’s real. I’m real. We all are! Have some fucking decency. You want to know how I feel? Huh? Like shit!” Spit spewed from my mouth as I continued shouting, “I’m a piece of shit because I didn’t help him; you all are pieces of shit because you don’t care. Fuck fame! Fuck the industry! And fuck each and every one of you!”

I turned and jogged back to my house. None of them said a word; the silence was only broken by the front door slamming closed.

I leaned against the wood, my breathing hard and heavy, and my eyes rose up to meet Jules, standing in the foyer, purse in hand.

“I’m done, Jules.” I slid down the door, crumpling in the floor. “I’m done. I can’t do it anymore. It’s time for us all to be done.”

Chapter 24

We’d all been called down to the record company to meet. James had to go over how Jag’s overdose would be handled, what it meant for the band, and what we were allowed to say to media.

For some reason, walking into that room with the other guys but without Jag set me off. Everything seemed like it was closing in on me, and I had to get out; but before I had a chance to stand up, Stone jumped up and went outside.

“Hey, where you going, man?” Pax called out.

“I just gotta breathe.”

Pax glanced over at me, and we both got up to follow Stone outside.

As I approached the glass door, I could see Roxy standing out on the curb, and suddenly, anger swept over me. For some reason, in that moment I felt like it was her fault. Just looking at her caused my jaw to clench.

Had she accepted him the way he was, had she not made him feel like he wasn’t good enough, he wouldn’t have overdosed. As far as I was concerned, she pushed him over that edge, and I hated her for that.

When I opened the door, I heard Stone say, “It’s not your fault.”

He jogged down the steps and hugged her. “Hey, there’s nothing you could have done. Jag’s a lot to deal with. You can’t blame yourself. He was a mess before you.”

Letting her go, he continued, “You know, you were the only one who even tried to hold him accountable. The rest of us…” He fell silent, and I almost shouted.

What the hell did he mean, she held him accountable? She was the reason he was downing shit in ungodly amounts, just to hide it from her.

Stone let out a breath. “Well, we just let him do it. Because he was Jag. We just watched him fucking kill himself and didn’t say a thing.”

“He’s gonna be okay, though, right?” Roxy asked.

I closed my eyes; the last thing Jag needed was for her to go fucking with his head again. I couldn’t process the rest of Stone’s rambling because anger was getting the best of me.

When Roxy said, “I want to talk to him,” I lost it.

“Fuck no!” I yelled.

Roxy jumped at my abrupt outlash; her eyes widened and flew up to me. Her eyes were red and had deep circles under them where she’d most likely been crying her eyes out, but I didn’t care.

“Who the hell are you? He doesn’t need you adding to anything. I don’t care what the fuck bullshit Stone wants to believe, it
is
your fucking fault.” Everything inside me was boiling, my muscles were tense, and it was all I could do at that moment to keep tears from welling up in my eyes like a little bitch.

Stone turned around, his mouth hanging open. “Man, Rush, chill out, she—”

I cut him off. “No, let me say what I need to.” I walked down one of the steps, still glaring at her. “You tried to make him change, you couldn’t accept him for what he was. Whatever
you
did to make him feel like death was the best option—he
doesn’t
need that. You don’t know how to handle him.”

Now her eyes were flooding with tears, her lip was quivering, and she could no longer look me in the eyes.

I couldn’t stop there. Words just kept spewing from me like vomit. “Had it not been for you, he wouldn’t have been trying to hide the fucking drugs, and then when he got pissed, he could’ve just gone and fucked his anger out with some random chick.” I stood there breathing, my chest heaving, my pulse throbbing in my temples as I stared out at the crowd of people now snapping pictures with their phones.

Pax grabbed my shoulder. “Rush, man, chill out. It’s not her fault, she—”

I tossed Pax’s hand away from me and shoved my finger inches from his face. “You shut the fuck up too. You didn’t help anything.”

“Both of you shut up!” Stone shouted. “Just shut the fuck up! It’s not her fault.” He narrowed his eyes at me and his voice softened a little. “Rush, shit, you fed him fucking drugs.”

“Yeah, so now it’s all my damn fault? You did drugs with him too, Stone. He’s your brother. Shouldn’t you have stepped in at some point? Hell, I tried. I tried to get him to leave
her
alone!”

I pointed at Roxy and she took a few steps toward us, stumbling over her words. “I just had a lot on my mind, and he said he didn’t need a kid, you know. It wasn’t just the drugs, it was just everything.”

Pax snorted. “Jag doesn’t have a fucking kid.”

I knew this was all about to blow the fuck up.

Stone shook his head. His eyes filled with tears and he swallowed. Wetting his lips with his tongue, he whispered something to her. Roxy’s entire face crumpled and she started sobbing.

Pax flung his arms in the air. “What the hell are you talking about? He doesn’t have a kid, you fucking idiots.”

Ignoring Pax, Stone looked at Roxy. “Layne—”

“Who the fuck is Layne?” Pax moaned.

I snapped my head around. “Shut up, Pax. Just shut the fuck up for once!”

Stone waved his hand at both of us, trying to dismiss us from their conversation.

Roxy let out another sob, covering her mouth as she closed her eyes. “Well, the way he acted when I confronted him…” Another pitiful wail flew out of her.

Pax jerked me around. “What the hell is going on?”

“A fucking mess, that’s what. Just let it go for now, dude.”

When I turned around, Stone looked stunned and Roxy was bawling.

I could tell by the way she looked at Stone and the subtle way she’d just covered her stomach that I had no interest in what she’d just confessed.

“Shit,” Stone huffed underneath his breath. “It was just too much. Everything blew up at the same time. Damn it!”

“I didn’t think.” Roxy looked up at us. “I just didn’t want to get hurt. I don’t want this kid to get hurt.”

That was all I could listen to; I wanted to believe she was evil. I needed to think she was bad for him, I needed to blame her, and now I just didn’t know that I could.

“Oh, shit! He fucking knocked you up?” Shaking my head, I walked back toward the door of the record company. “Fucking great. That’s the end of that. You probably did it on purpose, you bitch!” That last comment came out without my thinking, and I felt like an ass for the way I’d just acted.

We were all hurting and none of us knew how to handle it, and the shit just kept getting deeper.

I went back to James’ office to wait. Jules was already sitting next to his desk and I walked in, taking a
seat next to Pax.

A few minutes later, Stone and James came in. James made his way around his desk and cleared his throat. “So. You know Jag’s fine, so there’s that. But this is his second overdose in less than a year. We got to be harsh about this.” He pulled in a breath, an annoyed groan seeping out when he released it. “The company is getting slammed—we are getting
slammed
—because they say we just let him do it.”

I purposefully avoided looking at Jules. I knew he was talking about me.

His eyes shot over at me in an accusing glare. “Some of you don’t know how to keep your emotions out of the public eye and made some dumbass comments that led to that little rumor.”

He rose from his chair and made his way to the front of his desk, crossing one leg in front of the other as he leaned against its edge. “And that’s what it is.
A rumor.
We did
not
feed Jag drugs.” He arched a brow, his nostrils flaring as he nodded his head at each of us. “Got that? We had
nothing
to do with this.”

I glanced at Jules, and I could tell she’d been crying. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy, and her cheeks were blotchy. I had to swallow back the anger that was tightening my throat. I could only imagine the way James tore into her about everything. She was the one who was supposed to keep us in check, keep Jag high, and make sure that the company’s ass was protected at all costs. Her eyes were fixed on the edge of James’ desk, glazed over and glassy. She had checked out. She probably had to in order to keep from breaking down right there in front of all of us.

“Rush.”

The stern tone in James’ voice forced my eyes away from Jules.

“Can you tell me what in the hell you were thinking the other day, saying the shit you said to the media?” He pulled up a paper, his finger skimming along a line as he read part of a write-up. “When Pandemic Sorrow bassist, Rush Wilder, was asked about manager James Cooper’s involvement in their known drug abuse, he angrily responded, ‘Yeah, he gives kilos of coke for bonuses.’ Immediately after this comment Rush shoved a member of the media before continuing his possibly drug-induced tirade.’” James glared up from behind the paper, locking his eyes on me. “And then my favorite part of this article.” He popped out the paper and continued reading. “‘Maybe the record label’s name, Deviant Faults, says more of their character than has been known.’” He threw the paper in my direction, the loose pages flying to the floor.

I swallowed and my leg involuntarily bounced. I reached down to steady it with my hand. “I was pissed. They took it out of context. I was only being sarcastic.”

“Yeah, well, you’ve been in this business for six damn years.” James’ face reddened and a grimace formed over his face as his voice rose to a shout. “They take everything out of context and twist it. So now I’m a fucking drug pusher? Do you have
any
idea how many calls the company has gotten about this shit? Huh, do you?”

“James,” Jules interjected, and he snapped his neck around to glare at her. “Can you let it go? What are we gonna do about Jag?”

James wiped his hand down his face and slowly made his way back behind his desk. He plopped down in the leather seat, the hinges creaking as he leaned back. “I’ve talked with his mother, and she’s agreed that he needs to go back to rehab. The fucker doesn’t want to take the nice rehab places seriously; the star treatment doesn’t get to him, so I found one of the shittiest places I could to shove him. Maybe a dose of where he would be without his fame will get him in check.”

The longer I listened to James go on about how Jag didn’t take anything seriously, the more furious I became. He sat there with a smug-ass smirk on his face, all the while knowing that drugs had always been his fix-all for Jag. Jag got too drunk, he’d shove some coke in front of him. If Jag got too down, he’d shower him with ecstasy. Drugs were how he always fixed Jag. It was his answer to everything, but he was pretending like he had no hand in this at all.

I finally let myself come back into the conversation, allowing his nonstop assault to register with me.

“I mean, what the hell do you boys expect from me, huh? I told Jag he had to watch it. He had to keep it under control. How hard is it to just use enough to get you through the damn day?”

I jumped out of my chair, swatting it over as I headed toward the door. “Fuck you, man!”

“Sit back down. I’m not done here,” James growled.

I stopped and turned toward him, taking a quick glance at Jules, who was slowly shaking her head. “Oh, we’re done here. I’m done. You are the one who gave him the drugs, you
gave
them to him. You told him, after he’d been in
rehab
, that using just a little was okay.” I paused, taking several steps toward his desk. “Well, for Jag it’s not okay. The rest of us, we can use just a little, we can stop with one drink, with one hit—at least for now we can; we haven’t crossed over that line into being an addict, not yet. Jag crossed that line the first time he used it. And you
know
that.”

I looked at the guys; they were sitting silently, both staring into their lap to avoid accusation. “I’m done. I quit! I don’t want anything to do with any of this.”

No one said a word, and just as my hand touched the cool metal doorknob, James chuckled.

“No, you’re not. You can’t break your contract. Just calm the fuck down, Rush. We’re all on edge here. Just cool your shit.”

“Man,” Stone spoke up. “It’ll be different this go around.”

Pax wiped his hands down the legs of his jeans. “Yeah, man. It’ll be different.”

James’ lips flipped up into a sadistic grin. “See, we’re all on the same page. We’re gonna help him. Now sit your ass down so I can make sure none of you morons say anything else stupid to the press.”

I stood at the door, my heart hammering in my chest. I was owned, and I really had no choice. This was my life, what the hell would I do if I didn’t have the band?

Jules let go of a deep breath, her eyes locking on mine. “It will be better. Rush, it will be better. We all will make sure of that.” Her voice fell to a whisper, and her eyes filled with tears. “Please, don’t leave.”

To everyone else, that seemed like a sincere request to not abandon the band, but to me it went much deeper than that.