Chapters (42)
- Fast Lane
- Table of Contents
- Dedication
- Encouragement
- Acknowledgments
- The Story
- THE 80s
- Nicky and Ricky
- Tommy Mancosa
- Lyla
- The Roadmasters
- Chicago
- The Cabin
- The Reunion
- Josh and Bobby
- Christmas
- DuShawn
- THE 90s
- The Blur
- Young and Beautiful
- The Tour
- Trelane
- The Fast Lane
- Bobby McGee
- Seattle
- Portland
- Los Angeles
- Aftermath
- THE AUGHTS
- The Bar
- Charity Gig
- The Boys
- China
- Jesse
- The CD
- THEN
- The Interim
- NOW
- The Family
- About the Author
- Books by Kristen Ashley
- Connect with Kristen Ashley
The looks on their faces matched the feel of the room, this not (totally) about my distance, and I tasted something weird in my mouth I’d never tasted before, and I really did not like the flavor.
“Well?” Preacher prompted, gaining the men’s attention.
“Band’s goin’ clean for the rest of the tour,” DuShawn announced.
Uh-oh.
I looked from DuShawn to Preacher to Tommy to Preacher.
DuShawn and Tom had assumed determined, even pugilistic expressions.
Preacher’s was the same but add incredulous.
“Have you lost your minds?” he asked. Yes. Incredulous. “We’re smack in the middle of the tour.”
“Don’t know why where we’re at has shit to do with it,” Shawn said. “It’s getting out of hand.”
“It’s not out of hand,” Preacher retorted.
“It’s outta hand, Preacher. I had trouble waking Dave up this morning,” Tommy told him, and my middle moved like I’d been punched.
He’d had trouble waking Dave?
“What?” I asked.
Everyone looked to me.
But Tommy spoke.
“Scared me shitless. Shook him. Smacked him. Had to toss a glass of cold water in his face to get anything from him. He’s in his room with a huge pot of coffee and we’ll just say he didn’t like it when I told him he couldn’t sock back his Adderall.”
“He’s a grown man, Tom,” Preacher stated.
“He’s got a problem, Preacher,” Shawn decreed.
“When’d you earn your medical degree?” Preacher jibed.
Oh no.
You did not take a jab, verbal or otherwise, at Shawn.
“You’re handin’ me that shit, brother, ’cause you know we’re startin’ with Dave and then we’ll be talkin’ ’bout you,” DuShawn returned.
Oh no!
If this needed to be done, and I was worried it needed to be done, I needed to do it.
Not Shawn.
We were a team, but I handled Preacher in life.
Shawn handled him in the band.
And neither of us stepped over that line.
Ever.
“You’ve gotta be shittin’ me,” Preacher snarled.
Shawn crossed his arms on his chest. “And while we’re on touchy subjects, I’ll throw out there that something’s gotta be done about that bitch who’s doggin’ Tim’s every step. Haven’t seen him out from under that pussy except onstage in two weeks.”
This, I could see.
Okay, the other I could see too.
But truly, the woman Tim had brought along on the tour…
She wasn’t right.
I did not like her.
Preacher hated her.
And I knew all the guys felt the same even if not a one of them had said a word.
She hadn’t been with us from the beginning, though Tim had started things with her in LA before we left.
He had not been at one with her coming along.
She’d talked him into letting her join us.