DRASTIC (Book 4 of the Soundcrush Series)

Chapter 38: Rock Stars Have Control Issues

Author's Note: I made a minor error a couple of chapter's back, when I referred to the white Sixmob member as "Nate." When he first introduced, his name was actually Preston. I've corrected in the previous chapter, and he is referred to as Preston in this chapter. 

Sorry, no song. I don't know why. Maybe because I'm listening to the wrong genre for this mood....

Trace, about eight hours ago

I look up at Bodie's new house, touched by the light of a nearly full moon and two well-placed shrubbery spotlights, and feel an overwhelming sense of wrongness. Bodie has been living here with Marley two months, and I've been in Atlanta supervising the band house renovation at least half that time.

I haven't been here once.

It ain't right.

Because me and Bodie?

We ain't right.

We haven't been, since he bailed on the final dates last summer. Supposedly to coax Arabella to join him in rehab, but instead, he went to Thailand and developed a taste for smack.

Look, I know I have control issues. But wondering if one of my closest friends is dead from an overdose in a third world country is beyond a minor irritation for me.

How many nights did I lie awake last fall, with Kat asleep in my arms, trying to prepare for the call you can't ever be ready for?

The one that starts, "Is this Trace Gallant? Mr. Gallant, there's been an accident. You were listed as the emergency contact for..."

All fall, I kept a brave face for the guys, and especially Mac, telling them not to worry about Bodie, but all the while, I was expecting that call and praying like hell it wouldn't come.

And when Bodie came back, I was damn glad, but I wasn't relieved.

I was fucking pissed at him. Still sorta am.

The truth us, except for Leed, we've all been distant from Bodie since he's been home. We've been calling it space, like he needs it, but maybe we are the ones that have needed it.

That needs to stop. He and Marley were almost shot tonight, and he needs to know how that felt for me. For the band.

He needs to know we care. A fuck ton.

I look over at my best friend. Adam and I are the designated intervention crew. Leed and Ash have a flight to catch in a matter of hours, Mac and Tam needed to get back to the babies at the hotel, and Kat was a little freaked after the gunfire and getting caught up in the subsequent run in the club, so I sent her back to the bandhouse under Ben's care.

Adam points to a light switching off in one upper room and another lighting suddenly.

"Well, someone is still awake."

I pull out my phone and text Bodie.

Hey. We're walking up onto your porch, man. Let us in.

The door opens less than a minute later.

"Marley's asleep, let's keep it down," he says quietly, standing aside.

Adam and I say the things we're supposed to say and Bodie offers us the assurances that he and Marley are fine, but when we try to ask him questions about the actual shooting, he's tight-lipped.

Something is not right. Shit, I get he's tense, how could he not be? But the guy tapping nervously on the counter is not the guy I've known for five years. His guard is up and it's beyond the rock star shield.