Her voice is curt. "Mal and Joel are already in the practice room." She pulls the door open and moves towards the stairs. "Lock the door, please."
She practically vanishes up the stairs.
Fuck, she looks as miserable as I feel.
I don't bother trying to shake it off. I'm going to feel like shit all day, all month probably. I have to get through the pain. I have to deal with the reality of a life that doesn't involve Piper.
I feel sick.
Somehow, I manage to lock the door and get to the practice room.
Joel is already fucking around on his drum kit. He's not playing as much as he's making noise. He has a look of contentment plastered on his face as he bangs his sticks against the cymbals.
This is where Joel belongs.
Mal shakes his head, not buying Joel's shit for a minute. "No fucking way is that a drum solo you came up with."
Joel smiles that typical Joel I'm fucking with you smile. "You don't have to hurt my feelings, Strong. You can tell me you don't like it."
"I hate it." Mal turns to me and raises a brow. "You want coffee?"
Joel shoots me the same concerned look. "Fuck, you really do look like shit, Lockhart. Still miserable?"
"Same as yesterday." I shrug my leather jacket off my shoulders and toss it to the ground. I haven't got any fucking patience right now. Everything is getting on my nerves.
"Yeah, but I figured it was cause you were desperate to play together." Joel bounces off his drum kit. "Don't tell me it's because Ethan isn't here?"
The guitarist is in New York City with his now-girlfriend, Violet. I'd like to be happy for them, but at the moment I despise everything about relationships.
I'm not in the mood to banter with Joel. I grit my teeth and do it anyway. "That must be it."
Mal raises a brow. He and Joel share a knowing look.
Mal looks to me. "How long has it been since rehab now?"
"About seven months." I grab my practice bass off it's stand. "I haven't used since before rehab if that's your next question." Of course I did eat out the guy's innocent baby sister then run off, so it's not like I have much high ground here.
"Good." Mal shoots Joel another concerned look. When the drummer shrugs, Mal turns back to me. "How about we call Ethan, get this started?"
I slide my hand into my pocket. "Sure."
Mal grabs the cordless landline from off the top of an amp. He dials. "Hey. I'm putting you on speaker." He sets the phone back on top of the amp.
Ethan's voice flows throw the speaker. "We could have done a, fuck what's it called? A conference call. We could have done this on the phone. You didn't have to drag Joel and Kit to Orange County right before rush hour."
"They volunteered to do it here," Mal says. "You could try being here."
Ethan's voice is bright. "Or I could try being with Violet. Which would you pick?"
"Fuck, can I try being with Valentine—" Joel calls Ethan's girlfriend by her last name- "instead of you guys? She's much more tolerable."
"Touch her and you die," Ethan says. "That goes for all three of you."
Joel laughs. There's no animosity to the teasing. All of us have been rooting for Ethan and Violet.
It's sweet but I'm not in the fucking mood. I tune out their banter until Mal starts getting into tour dates. We've got about a month and a half off, then we're playing a series of summer festivals in Europe, then we're back in Southern California to record our next album.
Then another round of press, music videos, release shit, touring to support the album.