Opening Act | Book #1 TRACE Trilogy

one | apollo

GRIFFIN RHODES IS a fucking idiot.

"What do you mean you fired Clyde?" I ask, barely holding back my annoyance.

Griffin tiredly shrugs and threads a hand through his hair, "fuck man, I don't know. I was drunk and he pissed me off. It kind of just happened, you know how it is."

I gape at him, genuinely in awe of his stupidity, "Griffin - do you even realise what you've done? We go on tour in a week and you just fired our fucking manager. What the fuck are we supposed to do now?"

I feel my nails dig into my skin as my fists clench, the only thing holding me back from punching the guy silly for what he's done. He practically fell into the apartment this morning, drunk off his ass and reeking of cheap beer before passing out on the kitchen floor and leaving me to clean up his mess.

The worst part is that I'm not even the most mad at him for firing our manager, the real kicker is that he broke his sobriety. I had to hide the cake I'd ordered to celebrate his one month, which would've been tomorrow.

He glances down at his watch and grins, "well it's 9am, so I'm suggesting breakfast?"

I swear he is the most infuriating creature on this planet. I'd been so proud and now I'm trying so hard to not be angry, but I want him to succeed - to be healthy and to live past his twenties.

In the last couple weeks I saw the life slowly come back into his eyes and the darkness that shadowed him became a little lighter. I don't always show it but I'm terrified that one day, if he keeps following this viscous cycle, that it'll consume him.

I erase those thoughts from my mind, trying to get over the fact that he doesn't even seem to care about what he's done. Not just to himself but how majorly he's fucked over the band.

"You already ate breakfast...my breakfast," I deadpan and he looks honestly confused for a moment.

"I did? Mustn't have been that good," he shrugs, "pancakes on me?"

I'm going to strangle him.

"What's Griffin done now?" Ryder interrupts as he walks into the kitchen, wrapped in his girlfriends fluffy pink dressing gown. Fucking whipped.

"Take a guess."

He thinks it over for a moment, glancing between the two of us. "Considering he looks like he's been dragged through a hedge backwards, I'm going to assume he got drunk and fucked up again."

Griffin bursts out laughing, "correct," he announces like a game show host as he walks into the fridge door, muttering curses in his hungover state, "stupid fucking fridge."

I slap him upside the head before speaking seriously to Ryder, "he fired Clyde last night. Apparently he pissed him off and now we don't have a manager."

"Translation - we're fucked," Silas enters the room, not glancing at any of us as he fills a cup with water and downs it.

"Exactly."

"Petition to kick Griffin out of the band," I say and Ryder and Silas nod in agreement.

"Agreed," Griffin murmurs absentmindedly before realising, "wait what -

I'm never letting this guy drink alcohol ever again. One time he got drunk and leaked my phone number, telling everyone to call me a bully because I beat him in mario cart.

He is the sorest loser and the biggest lightweight I've ever met. Annoyingly, he's also one of my best fucking friends.

"You promised us you weren't going to drink again, Griff. What happened?" Ry asks sincerely as we all take a seat in the lounge.