Face the Music, page 1
Face the Music
Replay, 1
K.M. Neuhold
Copyright
Face the Music© 2018 by K.M.Neuhold
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Book and Cover design by Inked Design Cover Image by
Blurb
Lincoln
I thought there was only one thing I needed to make me happy. I was so sure becoming a rock star would heal the dark corners inside me. But every time I walk onto the stage, with a roaring crowd screaming my name, all I can think about is the boy I left behind. All I want to do is rewind and make a different choice.
Jace
I thought I hated Lincoln when he ghosted me ten years ago and destroyed my heart. I thought I hated him when he wrote a chart-topping hit about our idyllic young love. But I’ve never hated him as much as I do right now, standing in front of me like he has every right to be in my world again. He’s not the rock god I thought he was...he’s still that same lost boy I used to love. Can I ever trust him with my heart again?
***Face the Music is the first book in the Replay series. Each book in the series will focus on a different band member getting a second chance at love. Each book can be read as a stand-alone. This book contains descriptions of self-harm, suicidal thoughts, and sexy times.
Contents
1. Track 1: Side A
2. Track 2: Side B
3. Track 3: Side A
4. Track 4: Side A
5. Track 5: Side B
6. Track 6: Side A
7. Track 7: Side B
8. Track 8: Side A
9. Track 9: Side B
10. Track 10: Side A
11. Track 11: Side B
12. Track 12: Side A
13. Track 13: Side B
14. Track 14: Side A
15. Track 15: Side A
16. Track 16: Side B
17. Track 17: Side A
18. Track 18: Side A
19. Track 19: Side A
20. Track 20: Side A
21. Track 21: Side B
22. Track 22: Side A
23. Track 23: Side A
24. Track 24: Side A
25. Track 25: Side A
26. Track 26: Side B
27. Track 27: Side A
28. Track 28: Side A
29. Track 29: Side A
30. Track 30: Side A
31. Track 31: Side A
32. Track 32: Side A
33. Track 33: Side A
34. Track 34: Side A
Also By
About the Author
Stalk Me
Track 1: Side A
Whiskey and Regret
Lincoln
The icy wind bites at my skin, but another swig of whiskey helps to chase the chill away. The air smells like snow. I do a mental calculation and realize it’s only two weeks until Christmas.
When I was a kid, I loved Christmas. This time of year felt so magical and joyful. The smell of cookies baking in the oven, the twinkling lights of the tree, making a wish list of presents you hope Santa will bring.
Another gulp from the bottle clenched in my numb fist. It stopped burning on the way down about a half hour ago, right around the time the far-off city lights started to blur.
There’s no magic now. My kitchen is empty of anyone baking any sort of treats. I can’t remember the last time I bothered to get a tree. They’re not much fun to decorate all on your own. Plus, what’s the point if no one else will be there to enjoy it with you? As for a wish list...there’s only one thing I’d put on that list and it’s something—someone—I had and tossed away too many years ago.
My legs are unsteady under me as I walk to the edge of my balcony to look down at the street below.
Certainly the fall would kill me. But who would care?
I can see the headline now…Rock star Jumps to Death from New York City Apartment.
But would they really care?
My bandmates might’ve cared a few years ago, before everything started falling apart, before we were at each other’s throats constantly.
If only I’d known the name of our band—Downward Spiral— would be so apt when we chose it. Maybe it was a bad omen, or a jinx. Maybe we were just cocky little pricks who were on top of the world and didn’t think anything could ever knock us off.
I wobble as I lean farther over the railing, testing the sturdiness.
I won’t really jump. That’s what I tell myself. That’s what I always tell myself when I get into these dark moods.
I try to lift the bottle to my lips again, but it slips through my fingers. I watch as it plummets downward and then shatters on the sidewalk below.
I teeter again against the railing before taking a step back and reaching into my pocket for a cigarette. I don’t even normally smoke, just when I’m drunk and sad.
I can only imagine what Jace would say if he could see me now.
This was supposed to be your dream, asshole. What are you doing wasting it?
“I’m not wasting anything,” I argue with the apparition in my mind. “In case you haven’t noticed, I have a multi-million-dollar penthouse, I own multiple sports cars, and I fuck whoever I want…I’m living the fucking dream.”
In my mind, Jace offers a snort of derision and fixes me with one of his looks that always had my balls shriveling. One of the looks I only got when I was in serious trouble with him.
Look me in the eyes and tell me you’re happy.
I lift the cigarette to my lips and light it, dragging in a lungful of harsh smoke.
I can’t even lie to my own imagination.
I watch my finger trace the long scar running down my left wrist. I can’t feel the rough, raised skin because I’ve been sitting out in the cold too long, but I’ve long since memorized the feeling of it.
The razor to my wrist was my second, and most nearly successful, suicide attempt. I can still remember the quiet peace that settled over me as I laid on the floor of my bathroom and watched my blood flow between the cracks of my white marble tile. Everything got soft around the edges, and the only thing I could think was that nothing in life ever turned out how you expected it to, so what was the point?
If being a rock star couldn’t make me happy, surely nothing ever would.
Except…
One thing used to make me happy.
His face flashes behind my eyelids as I lean back in my lounge chair on my freezing balcony.
I can still see him clear as day when I close my eyes. I can picture the moss green eyes gazing up at me with lust, anger, love, hope…we were together long enough that I saw all those emotions and so many more. I can still count the freckles on his nose, the ones that only appeared in late July when his first sunburn would fade. I can still feel his lips against mine, my arms around him, my face in the crook of his neck.
Growing up, Jace was my happy place.
Nine months out of the year I was counting down to the three summer months my family would spend at our lake house, three months I would get to spend with Jace.
Promise we’ll be together forever, Linc?
The last words he ever spoke to me echo in my ears. I didn’t have the heart to lie to him that night, knowing what I was planning as soon as he was asleep. Instead of answering him, I just kissed him soundly and tucked him closer to my chest.
A choked sob escapes as I open my eyes long enough to flick my cigarette into a small bucket I have out here for that very purpose. Then, they fall closed again, and I revel in the numbness inside and out.
Some part of my brain registers that I need to get inside, out of the cold, but I can’t seem to bring myself to care.
Somewhere in the distance, there’s a pounding, maybe someone shouting my name. I don’t know, and still, I don’t care.
All I want is for the pain to stop. All I want is to turn back time ten years and make a different choice.
Track 2: Side B
17 Dreams
Lincoln
I was seventeen years old. Nerves fluttered in my stomach as we waited backstage to go up for our first ever paying gig. Okay, backstage may be a bit generous. It was technically the employee break room in a dive bar just outside Cleveland. But it was our first paying gig. We got paid fifty bucks each, and there were people in the bar who were going to hear us play.
“This is so wild,” Lando said, peeking his head out the door to see how many people were out there. “There has to be at least a dozen or more people out there. And they’re, like, complete strangers. This isn’t like playing for my mom and her friends.”
“We’re like a real band now,” Benji agreed, sweeping his long hair off his shoulder and bouncing on his toes. “I did invite London, so it’s not completely strangers, but still.”
“Ugh, your boyfriend is skewing our numbers,” Lando complained.
“London isn’t my boyfriend,” Benji argued. “He’s just my friend.”
“Ben, you and I are friends, and I’ve never sucked your dick,” Lando pointed out. Benji’s face flamed red, and he shut up before he could dig his hole any deeper. “Did anyone else invite
Jude shook his head and twirled his drumsticks, and I glanced at my phone for the hundredth time, hoping to see a message from Jace.
Normally, I wouldn’t have any hope of seeing him between the end of August and late May, since I lived in Ohio and he lived in Washington state. But, as luck would have it, he was in Ohio with his family, visiting his aunt for Thanksgiving. He told me she’d just gotten a divorce, so they were making sure she didn’t spend her first holiday alone. I knew it was a longshot if he’d be able to slip away for a few hours to see me. But then my band got booked for our first real gig, and I called Jace that night, begging him to try to come. He told me he’d do everything in his power to make it, but I hadn’t heard from him all day.
“Why do you look so bummed? This is the beginning of the rest of our lives.” Jude slapped me on the back.
“I know, I’m excited. I just haven’t heard from Jace. He was going to try to come, but I don’t think he’ll be here.”
“That sucks,” Lando commiserated.
The manager came back and signaled us it was time to go up on stage. I sucked in a deep breath, butterflies at war in my stomach and an excited buzz all over my skin. I looked back at my band, my best friends, my brothers and exchanged a fist bump with each of them.
“Let’s fucking do this,” I whispered excitedly.
“Hell yeah,” Lando agreed while Benji and Jude whooped with excitement.
We climbed up onto stage, not at all bothered that the bar patrons couldn’t seem to care less about a band getting ready to play.
I slipped my guitar strap over my head—a present from Jace last year for my birthday—and glanced back to make sure the rest of the guys are in position and ready to go.
My eyes traveled over the small group, and in the back corner, my eyes snagged, and my stomach swooped. A smile quickly spread across my lips, and my nerves were instantly gone.
Hi, I mouthed at Jace.
Hi, he mouthed back.
And that’s how I played my first paying gig, with a goofy smile on my face and so much love in my heart I thought it might burst.
After our set, I put my guitar down and hopped off the stage, making a beeline for Jace. My fingers were itching to feel his skin, and my lips craved his.
He stood in the back of the bar waiting for me with a smile on his face. When I reached him, my heart was pounding so hard I thought it might beat right out of my chest. I pulled him into my arms and rested my forehead against his, letting our breaths mingle and our noses brush against each other.
“You came,” I whispered, running my fingers through his hair.
“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. You were so great up there. You’re going to be a rock star, and I’m going to be beating men and women away from you with a stick.”
“I’ll only ever be yours,” I promised him as excitement washed over me at the rest of the picture he painted. A rock star, how amazing would that be? Maybe one day…
I pressed my lips to his, not caring who saw. I knew one day I would stand up in front of the world and call Jace my husband. Someday, we’d be together for real, without thousands of miles between us nine months out of the year.
“I love you,” I murmured against his lips. “I love you so much.”
“God, Linc, I love you too. More than I ever thought I could love someone.”
Another kiss, this time our lips parted, and our tongues caressed and explored each other, refamiliarizing after three months apart. It was bitter sweet. A small respite before six more months apart. But after next summer, everything would be different. We’d be graduating, and we’d been talking about going to the same college. This would be the last six months we’d ever be apart, and that thought filled my heart with joy, chasing out all the dark corners.
“Do you have to go back to your aunt’s house right away?”
“Yeah. I wish I didn’t have to, but I told them I was going for a drive. I couldn’t think of any good lies.”
“I understand. Call me later? I love hearing your voice before I fall asleep.”
“You’re such a sap,” Jace teased.
“Hey, you love my wounded artist soul as you so lovingly put it.”
“I do,” Jace agreed. “I’ll miss you. I can’t wait for it to be summer again.”
“Me too, Freckles. Me too.”
Two Years Later
“Holy shit, do you hear that?” Jude said, putting his ear to the green room door. He turned around with a smile, equal parts excited and terrified. “I can hear the crowd from here. This is fucking insane.”
Jude did a little victory dance while Lando and I forced smiles. I didn’t know what was going on with Lando, but he’d been different the past few weeks—quieter, sadder. I’d have thought he’d be thrilled about starting our first tour. Our first album had topped charts with multiple songs, and almost all the venues for the tour were sold out. This was it, all our dreams coming to fruition.
So why did it feel so hollow?
“You guys ready?” Archer popped his head through the door to ask.
“Hell yeah!” Benji shouted, jumping on Jude’s back and doing a lasso motion over his head.
That cracked a smile on Lando’s face, but I still couldn’t muster it. All I could think about was our very first gig and how it felt to see Jace in the crowd.
I wondered how much he hated me for leaving. How much he hated me for “Cherry Lane.” Would he ever forgive me? Would I ever have the chance to explain why I had to do what I did?
Then I pictured him at the University of Michigan, one of the best schools to study epidemiology, enjoying the benefits of a full-ride scholarship. It was all he ever wanted; of course, I had to make sure he followed his dream. After all, there I was following mine.
I followed the guys out of the green room, onto the stage. The crowd roared, and it was everything I’d dreamed of since I was just a little boy rocking out to Led Zeppelin in my bedroom.
I glanced back at my band, fixing a smile on my face.
“Hello, New York!”
Another loud roar from the crowd and my smile turned genuine. And then we played, the music a baptism for my fractured soul.
Track 3: Side A
Ghosts of You and Me
Lincoln
The beat is all wrong. It’s not one of our songs. It almost sounds like…
I blink awake in confusion, with all kinds of wires and lines attached to me and an annoying beeping sound in the background.
“Welcome back, asshole.” I recognize Archer’s voice to my left as I try to get my bearings.
“Am I dead?” I ask.
“You’re not dead, but not for lack of trying on your part.”
I turn my head and find my normally stern band manager looking at me with concern.
“What happened, Archer?”
“You got wasted off your ass and passed out on your balcony in the middle of December when it was fifteen degrees outside.”
“Shit,” I mutter, flexing my fingers, glad to find them all still attached.
“That was a dumb fucking move for a guy who makes his living having all ten fingers,” Archer chides. “Not to mention, I had to call an ambulance, so of course it’s all over the gossip sites now.”
“I’m sorry.” I let my head fall back against the pillow, the weight of everything too much to hold up.
“Lincoln, I’m worried about you.”
“I’m fine,” I snap. “I just want to go home. Can you please go get the doctor or nurse, or whoever can sign me out, so I can get the hell out of here?”
Archer hesitates for a moment, and I can tell he’s thinking of pressing the issue. I breathe a sigh of relief when he turns and exits the room without further discussion.
I lean back against my pillow and close my eyes. A heavy weight settles in my chest and all I want is to go home, crawl into bed, and not come out for the next few days. I want my razor, a few bottles of Jack, and to be left the fuck alone.
“Mr. Miller, it’s good to see you awake and feeling better,” a young woman in scrubs says as she walks into the room with Archer on her heels.
