My Man (Complete)

Eight

I've been on tour for so long. The album blew up, so the touring started with a national for promotions for the album and then it just kept going. I've been writing Ronnie, and he's called once in awhile... We have grown apart. A lot has happened. Our album blew up, so a national tour expanded with some international dates, music festivals, and it became shows after shows after shows. I'm not complaining because I love it on the road. Craig and I have managed to keep a good relationship going even on the road. My brother got sober and moved to LA. I'm going to be moving there soon. First, I have to pack up my old apartment. I kept it the same because it is paid  through as long as I want it.

I'm almost done when my cellphone rings.

"Hey babe." I yawn ans put it on speaker as I walk all about. 

"What's up?"

"Packing. I'll be leaving for LA tomorrow morning." 

"Can't wait to see you."

"Same here."

"So what are you doing for the rest of the day?"

I thought over my next sentence. Ronnie has publicly bashed Escape the Fate, focusing on Max and Craig most, over interviews from behind bars.

"I'm, um, gonna go to the prison." I said slowly.

"Fuck. I don't know what you like about that asshole." He's bitter and I don't blame him.

"I'm moving to LA to record an album. I can at least go see him one last time. I haven't seen him for a year."

"He's an asshole. You know it and I do too."

"Well, right now you are being an asshole."

"I don't need this bullshit."

"I don't need this bullshit either." I hung up. Angrily, I locked the door behind me and got in my car. I speed down the streets heading up to the prisons. Blasting music as loud as it got, I got to the prison calmer. 

It took awhile, but I got in to the visitor's room. While I waited, I picked at my nail polish. As soon as he walks in, I'm happy. He sits across from me, but doesn't smile. He's stone faced.

"I've missed you so damn much." I tell him.

He eases up and leans on his elbows. "How was the tour?"

"Fine." I noticed fresh tats on his fingers. "Bang-bang?"

"Yeah." He nods and looks at them. "How's Craig?"

"Mad."

"He's a fucking poser. Posers are always mad."

I shifted in my seat. "He's not a poser."

He just made a pft sound and rolled his eyes.

"I don't want to talk about him. How are you?"

"I'm in prison. Nothing changes."

"I didn't drive up for you to be an ass to me."

"Then don't drive back up."

"Trust me, I won't." And with that I stormed out. I didn't care anymore. If he wants to be a jerk then that's the way it is going to be. When I was driving back to Vegas, Craig called me.

"Hey." I'm calming down from both of the fights.

"We need to talk." He sighs as if he is deep in thought.

"No. Please, not today." 

He's quiet. 

"I don't want to break up right now, Craig."

"We never see each other, you are still great friends with your ex who says I'm trying to be him, and I just can't take it anymore." He explains.

My chest aches, so I pull over. I'm trying not to lose it.

"Adrianne..." He drifts off.

"Is this what you want?" I asked, holding back tears.

"I don't know. I just don't know, Adrianne."

"Fine." I let a tear slip down my face. "Its over then."

Angrily, I hung up and drove. Driving recklessly, I make it home in record time. My manager calls me in the middle of my meltdown.

"What?" I snap, not wanting to be talked to.

"You need to come to LA tonight. I have a show opening for Asking Alexandria since they need someone to open. I'm sending my assistant down tomorrow to bring your stuff up for you." He says, ignoring whatever mood I'm in.

"Fine. Text me the address." I hung up. In my suitcase from the tour, I hid a blade, so I pull it out and slash at my upper outer thigh where I always cut. When it is numb and dripping, I stop. Honestly, I feel better. The slashes are deep, but something I can handle. It takes me a few minutes to clean it up, but I leave with my suitcase right after.

The drive was long and I itched for a drink. I make it to the venue about twenty minutes before stage time. My band had been there since sound check hours before since they were already here in LA settling in. Everyone is drinking, and I've cut back a considerable amount in the past, but tonight I need a drink. Whiskey straight up, burns on the way down, but I could care less. My band doesn't notice. I'm happy that they don't. I don't need anymore drama. I change and do my makeup quickly, then get stage side drinking straight out of the bottle.

"Doing okay, Addie?" Danny Worsnop's voice drifts in my ear. "Last time I checked, you didn't drink."

"I've had a long day." I shrugged. 

"Looks like it." He chuckles and takes the bottle from me. He takes a drink and hands it back to me. 

"Stage time in one minute." the venue manager tells me. 

My band joins me, cracking jokes, and going through the set list. They go on stage and the crowd reacts positively. That is a good sign since opening acts usually get a bad reaction. After the music started, I walked on stage. I felt empowered with whiskey, anger, and the crowd's energy rushing through my veins.

After the first song, I take a long drink out of the bottle.

"How are you, Los Angeles?" I yell into the microphone. The crowd cheers wildly. "The city of angels. Beautiful people everywhere." I laugh. "Don't be scared! If you know the lyrics, sing along!" I laugh. The music starts. "And I'd just like to say fuck you to Ronnie Radke and Craig Mabbit. Those two assholes can go fuck each other!" 

Later, I would regret that. Then, in that moment, it felt right. Fuck them. Ronnie is my first love that now hates me and Craig broke up with me because he couldn't handle it. At that moment saying a big public fuck you while drinking a bottle of whiskey while my band starts the next time was better than any drug out there. I just didn't know the comedown would be so terrible.