Ty moans and rolls over, attempts to get to his feet and crumples. Jace helps him up.
Zane snarls as he continues to work on Carter. “You’re so fucked up, Ty. Seriously. Stay the fuck away from us.”
EMTs burst through the door and stabilize Carter. As they load him onto the gurney, Zane bends down next to Ty and in a voice so evil I cannot believe it came from our guitarist, hisses, “Fuck you.”
Ty’s manages to sit up. His face might be a bloody disaster, but he bellows after Zane and Carter. “No,fuckyou. AndfuckCarter. You are both fuckingdeadto me.”
Jace tries to calm him down, but Ty whirls around and cocks his fist. “Don’t youfuckingtouch me, Jace. You have no idea how sick to death I am of you treating me like a fuckingchild. Leave me thefuckalone.”
Jace shoots me an exasperated look, holds up his hands and joins me where I’m standing, transfixed at the absolute feckin’ disaster the night’s turned out to be.
It’s clear to me, Ty’s had some sort of mental break. My heart’s beating a million miles an hour. The man’s complicated, there’s no denying it, but this has gone too far.
I’m debating silently in my head whether to go to him when he stumbles to his feet and roars the place down. “What? Do you want a piece of me too? Have I been a bigjoketo all of you? All these years? Wind Ty up. Put him on stage. Use his songs.Rip his soul out. Pat him on the head. Fucking repeat. We’ve made our money, right? It’s all fine, right? You’re allrichnow, right? Well fuck this. I fuckingquit.”
Like zombies, Jace and I watch Ty as he rages and roars, bursting from the dressing room and tromping toward the loading dock. He screams at us over his shoulder, “There’s no more LTZ. It’s fuckingover. If I never see any of you again it will betoo fucking soon.”
If that weren’t bad enough, he points at his crying, horrified foundation artists, who have been looking forward to this show for months, and growls, “There won’t be a show tonight, kids.”
My mind can’t catch up to the absolute shite show I’ve just been witness to. Jace and I push through the doors to the loading dock to see Ty slammed against the wall and cuffed. The face that’s broken a million hearts looks bloodied and beaten. He crumples to the ground. The officers roughly yank him up and shove him into the back of the police car. Farther down, Zane’s huddled next to Carter in the ambulance.
Jace grabs my elbow. He’s as utterly freaked out as I am. “I need to get to Alex.”
“Feck. Let’s go.” In all the chaos here at The Mission, Ronni’s still next door at Gus. Holy feck.Fiona. She probably has no idea that her night’s about to be ruined too. The devastation of our LTZ family is unbearable. I can hardly believe that a day that started out as a reboot for LTZ will now go down in history as the end of my band.
I can’t lie, I feel hopeless. Ronni’s career is in trouble. Mine is nonexistent, apparently.
I have no idea what to do. No idea what to think. I need my wife. I need my kids.
They’re all that matter now.
Sometimes when you'refeeling like absolute dogshit you still have to suck it up. Today is one of those days.
Rather than wallow in the misery this defamation lawsuit is bringing me, I’m taking the night off to celebrate Fiona’s restaurant opening and my husband’s return to the stage. Alex and I are utterly enthralled watching Fee command her kitchen staff with quiet confidence. She's in black chef gear with a tall, white chef hat. My badass friend’s pink hair is plaited in a long braid. She’s so ready. You can just feel her energy permeate this entire restaurant.
So yeah. Even though I'm having a severe career setback, I'm thrilled to see Fiona’s dream come true.
It’s fascinating how the chefs move at their individual stations. Together, it’s like an intricate dance to plate the most beautiful food. It's almost eerily quiet, but everyone embodies their role. The front-of-the-house staff watches and waits. Their part is key. The food and the service together are how Gus will receive a Michelin star. Or maybe two.
The choreographed hustle and bustle continue even when Fiona disappears into the office for a bit. When she reappears, she approaches us with bottle of vintage Dom Perignon. “I thought we deserved to have a little toast with the expensive stuff. Zoey can’t drink anyway, so we won’t feel bad she’s not here yet.”
“Holy shit. I haven't tasted this stuff in years.” I reach for my flute when she pours it to nearly full. The three of us clink glasses. Fee and I take a healthy gulp, savoring the bright, fruity flavor. It's such a treat. Tonight, I've decided to give myself a break and let loose. There's no way I'm going to miss anything she has in store for us. Not when she’s worked so hard.
I can’t help but notice Alex took barely a tiny sip. Discussion for later, perhaps.
Fiona hands Alex and I the menu for the evening. “Well, this is it. I can't believe tonight's the night. I've put my heart and soul into this opening. I hope everyone loves what we've prepared.”
“OMG.” I can't stop myself from licking my lips. “Crab with avocado, ginger lime, and cucumber? No, wait. Foie gras seared with sunchoke, dates, and water chestnut? I hope you know I'm going off my diet to eat this, Fee. It’s going to besoooooworth it!”
The three of us relax with our champagne and chitchat for a while. The atmosphere is super chill until we hear an incredibly loud crash next door at The Mission. It’s so startling, Fiona jumps up and rushes through the kitchen into the dish pit. Alex and I follow close behind. She presses her ear to a strange-looking panel, which she explains is the hidden catering door to the green room at the club. She jiggles the tiny knob, but it's locked. Now we can hear screaming and yelling. It sounds like Ty and Zane.
All three of us pull out our phones to call our significant others, to no avail. We hear shouting. Well, that's an understatement. Ty’s bellowing at the top of his lungs. We can’t make out what he’s saying, but he sounds out of control. More crashes, swearing, and thumps. Are they fighting? Did someone break in? Has there been a shooting?
None of the options are optimal. That much we know. But with so many horrific possibilities, the three of us are frozen in place. Staring at each other. Downright petrified and unsure of what’s happening. Or, what the hell we’re supposed to do.
Fee snaps out of it quickly. Takes a deep breath. Directs her staff. Keeps a cool head. I have every intention of following her lead when I hear Connor's deep, booming voice through the wall. Now that my man’s involved, I can't help it. I take off running toward the front door. “What the fuck is happening?” I can’t help but cry out.
Fee and Alex follow me outside and over to The Mission, where we pound on the main door, which is still locked. None of us can get ahold of our men, but Alex responds to some texts from Zoey, who's in a car on the way to meet us. Since we can’t get in the front door, the three of us run to the loading dock behind the building without giving a second thought as to the potential consequences.