Chapters (73)
- TITLE PAGE
- TABLE OF CONTENTS
- PRAISE FOR K. BROMBERG
- ALSO WRITTEN BY K. BROMBERG
- CHAPTER ONE
- CHAPTER TWO
- CHAPTER THREE
- CHAPTER FOUR
- CHAPTER FIVE
- CHAPTER SIX
- CHAPTER SEVEN
- CHAPTER EIGHT
- CHAPTER NINE
- CHAPTER TEN
- CHAPTER ELEVEN
- CHAPTER TWELVE
- CHAPTER THIRTEEN
- CHAPTER FOURTEEN
- CHAPTER FIFTEEN
- CHAPTER SIXTEEN
- CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
- CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
- CHAPTER NINETEEN
- CHAPTER TWENTY
- CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
- CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
- CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
- CHAPTER THIRTY
- CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
- CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
- CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
- CHAPTER FORTY
- CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
- CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
- CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
- CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
- CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
- CHAPTER FIFTY
- CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
- CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
- CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
- CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
- CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
- CHAPTER SIXTY
- CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
- CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
- CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
- CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
- EPILOGUE
- EPILOGUE TWO
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
“Fuck. Does this mean we have to throw you a bachelor party?” Vince asks, his eyes wide as we all recall how wild his was. And that’s saying a lot with the life we lead.
“Nah, man. We’re all good,” I say. “Besides, we’ve been living in one for the past ten years.”
“True. Very fucking true,” Vince says and walks over, holding the glass out to me. I take a drink. “Thanks for coming clean and doing what needs to be done.”
I clear my throat and hate what shame tastes like. “Anything for you guys. You know that.”
“We do,” Rocket says.
“Never a doubt.” Hawkin pushes up out of his seat. “Is the kumbaya moment over? Can we get the fuck back to work now? The plan is to get this new material written before the tour starts.”
“Please,” I say, thrilled to have this off my chest and out in the open. To have the guys be cool with it.
And what do you know? I don’t miss a beat the rest of the fucking session.
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER TEN
Hendrix
“What do you mean, just know everything is okay?” my mom asks in that searching tone of hers that says she’s about to jump on a plane to make sure I am, in fact, okay.
And that’s exactly why I’m telling her this. I know if she hears reports about Jase and me, or gets calls from the nosy neighbor across the street, Natalia, who sits on her front porch scanning the gossip sites all day, she’ll be standing on my doorstep.
“There’s a lot going on here, and I just wanted you to know that everything is okay.”
“That fucktard Paul isn’t messing with you, is he?” she asks. She went from one hundred percent Team Paul to Fucktard Paul in a matter of a month. Gotta love moms who have your back.
“No. Yes.” I sigh and scrunch my nose. “He’s being the prick I’ve learned that he is.”
“You’re okay though, right? You don’t need any money or help or—”
“I’m fine,” I lie. The woman lives paycheck to paycheck but would send the whole amount to me if I asked. “It’s just . . . I have a few celebrity clients right now so you might hear a few mentions of me or the bakery, and I didn’t want you to worry.”
“Why would I worry?” she screeches. “That’s fabulous, honey. Wonderful. Maybe it’ll get you seen by the right people, and the bakery will take off through the stratosphere.”
“Perhaps.” If I feel this sick to my stomach lying to her, how am I going to feel lying to the world? “Just . . . whatever you hear, just know that everything is okay.”