“What about the ranch?” he asked. “I can get my sister out here. She's a realtor you know.”
“I'm keeping it,” I said. “Shannon and Ava loved this place. And, Elsie is moving in with me so I can look after her. We need the space.”
“I'm glad you won't be alone,” Landon said.
Later that night, I sat down with my guitar and started writing a new song, one that had been playing in my head for days now. It wasn’t my usual up beat style. I let my pain come out through my words, the chords providing the backdrop, and let it all out.
Music was my therapy. Always had been. I knew it was going to be the only thing that kept me going.
If it hadn't been for Elsie, my sister, I might have done something stupid. I might have ended it right then to be with Ava and Shannon once again. I couldn't do that to my sister though, she needed me.
So instead of ending my life, I put all those feelings into my music.
CHAPTER 1
Drake
The stadium was filled with thousands upon thousands of screaming fans, all of them chanting my name as I stepped out onto the stage. No longer did I play the guitar, Stone handled that. I was the front man, the singer, the voice of the operation. Landon was still on drums, hammering out beats just like he had back before we were household names.
The song playing was for Shannon and Ava, and most of our fan base knew the story behind it. My music was raw and often painful. My tormen
t came out in almost all the songs - at least the verses I wrote and had control over.
I was no longer the man I once was. I’d shut the door to that poor bastard years ago. The only time he came around was when I sang these songs. It was my own version of torment.
I sure as hell deserved it.
I stared out at the audience, tears welling in my eyes as I saw the same hallucination I’d often see in my opening act. It was of Shannon smiling back at me. Long, blonde hair and vibrant sapphire blue eyes, and a sweet smile. It was like she was there with me, Ava in her arms, swaying to the song I wrote just for them.
Just like always, I fought back the tears. It has been four years since they passed, and I had the same emptiness inside. I finished the song, and I already knew what came next.
We sang the melodies most of our fans came to hear from us, the ones Hank insisted we put on the album. I reached for my first beer of the night, popping the tab and downing it to a crowd of cheers, as Landon and Stone played the backup music to one of our greatest hits.
I needed the alcohol to get through this song and the others that followed.
The pounding of the drums and the thickness of the bass filled the stadium as I sang the words to my latest hit. The crowd was going wild, and silky thongs and lacy G-strings were being tossed on stage.
I should have been eating it up, but the emptiness inside reminded me I would always be alone. Others envy me for living my dream, but living it without my girls was never what I’d imagined.
As I sang, my band played behind me to a sold-out stadium, filled with thousands of fans who had come to hear our music. People were jumping up and down, and some even passed out, some from the shock of seeing me in person, others dehydrated. Some were hauled away on gurneys with beer bottles still dangling from their hands. The concert was getting wild. Several women fainted or grew dizzy, and even more reached out for me. Picking up my bottle of beer, I guzzled it as the crowd went wild.
Stone was wailing away on the guitar, causing a rowdy cheer to percolate through the crowd. I took a running start and threw myself out into the throngs of women holding out their hands. I knew they would catch me. They always did. Even as the room spun with my alcohol-induced stupor, I could feel their hands passing me along.
My body surfed above their heads as Stone passed the musical interlude to Landon. He pounded on his drums, filling the stadium with beats that blurred together as my beer settled in my stomach. I felt hands all over me, running down my legs, wrapping around my chest. The alcohol dulled so much of the concerts nowadays that I didn’t give a shit what they touched.
They fed me back to the stage as the countdown back into the song began. Eight measures of music and I would be back to singing away. I climbed up onto one of the massive black speakers and looked out among the sea of painted faces.
I pointed down to a blond. One of the bouncers brought her up on stage as I started singing again, her hips were twisting around. I started up the chorus of my latest hit song as women continued to scream for me.
I downed yet another bottle of beer while dancing with the girl. She was hot, and she’d be a perfect distraction, just like all the other girls.
Security began pulling the girl from the stage, but she looked determined to get back to me, somehow. The crowd was going wild, and I could see the nervous faces on the security team hired to keep the peace. The band wound down our concert as women cried at our feet, begging for an encore, and throwing their bras on stage. Lacy bras, red bras, sports bras, and polka-dotted bras. You name it.
We wound down the show and were whisked away to the bus. Security got us out of signing autographs so they could calm down the crowd, but not before Stone had worked his magic. We all piled onto the bus, sweating and panting from a night of awesome music. Security was trying to figure out where Stone was, and they all scattered to go find him.
Then that was when he appeared-- with many groupies at his side -one of which was the thin blond woman from the stage earlier.
The party continued on the bus as we pulled away. Our driver closed the partition, separating himself from whatever debauchery was about to occur. I sat on one of the couches and kept mostly to myself. Landon placed a bottle into my hand, and I tossed it back, guzzling down the brown drink that burned on its way to my stomach. From there, I had another. Maybe even a few more shots, I'm not entirely sure. I didn't want to participate in the partying so much as I wanted to numb the pain.