Code Red, page 26
Maddox nodded and reluctantly took his pills, grimacing as he swallowed them. He frowned at me, the most pitifully sad face. He clearly didn’t handle being sick very well at all.
“You’ll feel better soon,” I said gently. “How about you lie in bed while I pack up our room?”
He nodded again and I helped him to his feet, but he was quick to grab ahold of me. I took his arm and led him toward the door. “Text me if you need anything,” I said to Ryan. “And thanks, Doc.”
Amber caught us in the hall. She handed me the vitamin water. “Thank you so much,” I said. “Let me know if you need me or if anything changes.”
“Will do.”
I finally got Maddox back into bed and he let out a low groan. “You’re not supposed to make any noises,” I said, sitting beside him and brushing his hair off his forehead. “The Tylenol will kick in soon and bring your temperature down. Close your eyes and rest, baby.”
He smiled, kind of. Then he signaled with his hands that he wanted to write something. I grabbed the hotel notepad and pen.
Thank you.
“You’re welcome,” I replied.
He scribbled something else. Never had anyone to look after me before.
I leaned down and kissed his forehead. “Well, now you do.”
He smiled, and his blink was slow. I took the notepad and wrote something down for him.
I love you.
He read it and smiled, but he hugged the notepad to his chest and closed his eyes.
The flight to Toronto was short, thankfully. Maddox’s temperature had come down, and as soon as we got to the hotel, Hardwick knocked on our door to give him more meds. It was only Tylenol and whatever that steroid was, but he was looking a little brighter. Still tired though, and he was happy to lie in bed and watch TV or doze off to music.
And I’d be lying if three days in isolation with Maddox was a bad thing. Even if he was sick. I fed him honey and lemon tea and made sure he drank lots of water. On the second day, he wanted a bowl of mashed potatoes and more vitamin water, and on the third day, he wanted KFC mashed potatoes and gravy, fries, and nuggets. For breakfast.
He was clearly feeling much better.
He still hadn’t used his voice, and we found writing notes to each other was a lot of fun and flirty. Or just downright dirty.
He handed me his notepad and I read his scrawl. Blowjob?
I quickly wrote out my reply. Not good for your throat.
Good for yours.
I laughed. “Think you can get through it without groaning? Or whimpering?”
Nodding, he pulled the front of his sweatpants down and gripped his half-hard dick. He stroked himself nice and slow.
Damn.
When I didn’t move fast enough, apparently, he pushed me down on the bed, straddled my chest and tapped my lips with the head of his cock. Oh hell, yes. I flattened my tongue and opened wide, and he leaned forward, slipping into my mouth.
The only sound he made was a low growl that rumbled low in his chest as he came. I finished him off, without mercy, and left him a boneless, sated, and sleepy lump in bed.
I went in search of Amber and Ryan, asking if there was anything I needed to do to help, but not before I left a message in Maddox’s notepad. I love all of you, Mr. Kershaw.
On the third morning, the boys did the morning show interview without him. They had to leave the hotel at 6:00 am, and Maddox wanted to see them off. It was the first time he’d seen them since we arrived in Canada. He wore his black hoodie, gray sweats and socks, and a face mask, which did little to hide how hard he found it to watch them get ready without him.
“You sure you’re okay?” Jeremy asked.
Maddox nodded, barely. He took out his notepad. I should be going with you.
Jeremy gave him a sad face. “How are you feeling?”
Maddox shrugged.
Jeremy gave him a hug. “We need you better for tomorrow and the day after. Don’t worry about this interview. We got you.”
Luke joined in on the hug, then Blake and Wes, and it made my heart full to see it. They’d missed him, and seeing him now, I realized just how much he’d missed them. When they let him go, he wrote in his notepad for them. Don’t have too much fun without me.
Wes took his notepad and drew a huge dick on it with a smiley face. Maddox chuckled, reached into his hoodie, and pulled out his middle finger.
And then it was time for us to go.
Yes, I’d be leaving Maddox at the hotel. Doctor Hardwick was staying, other staff were around, and even some security would stay behind. If Maddox needed anything, anything at all, all he had to do was text. The boys doing a media event in the city was a priority, and so it was all managers on deck. Which was fine, it was my job, but it didn’t make leaving Maddox any easier.
“You sure you’re okay?” I asked, both hands on the sides of his neck. We were in the common room but I didn’t care.
He nodded.
“You text me if you need me,” I whispered. “We’ll be right back, okay?”
Once upon a time, Maddox having alone time was the norm. Now he looked a little panicked at the thought.
“Get some rest,” I murmured, then pulled him in for a hug and whispered in his ear so only he could hear. “If the doc gives you the all-clear, I’m working you over tonight.”
I left him smiling and joined the others on our way to the waiting vans. It felt odd to leave him.
“Feels wrong,” Jeremy said. “To leave him.”
Wes nodded. “Not having the five of us. Feels weird.”
It pulled at my heartstrings, though I tried to smile. “Was just thinking that.”
The interview went well. Of course, the big news was that Maddox wasn’t there. “He’s on voice rest before the concert,” Blake had said. The interviewers were excited because this was news, and they got to ask a line of questions that would no doubt be replayed all over the internet, and it was good for ratings.
Kinda pissed me off, to be honest.
But the boys handled it like pros. They made a few jokes about how nice it was that Maddox wasn’t allowed to speak, and it was the quietest he’d ever been in his life, and how they didn’t have to hear his lame jokes, and the interviewers laughed. The guys all looked at the camera then, told Maddox they loved him, and they quickly moved on talking about the tour and the album.
And then it was time to perform.
Without Maddox.
“So we’re gonna do things a little differently today,” Jeremy said into a mic as they took their seats. Four stools stood in front of a guitarist and a pianist, microphones in the front. “We were going to do our normal performance for this song but it didn’t look right with it just being the four of us.” He looked at the camera. “Maddox, I know you’re watching, brother.”
And then they did a totally stripped-down version of “Fly.”
They each took turns singing Maddox’s lines. It was beautiful and it hit so different when it was slowed right down and sung like that.
I knew it would have broken Maddox’s heart. His guilt at not being there, his guilt at letting the boys down, at letting his fans down. I could just imagine him lying in bed, the covers all pulled up over his head, feeling like utter shit.
I really wanted to get back to him. Like right now.
I took out my phone and shot him a text. You okay?
No reply.
Fuck.
I sent another one. Maddox baby, you okay?
His text bubble came up on screen and my relief was immediate. But then the bubble disappeared, reappeared, and disappeared again before his reply came through. Sure.
Sure. Hmm, right. I was one hundred percent certain he was not okay. I wanted to call him so he could hear my voice, but I was in a studio standing a few feet from the camera crew filming the band sing. I sent another text instead. Will be home soon. Will bring KFC.
His reply took a while to come through. Thx. ILY.
I love you too. All of you.
“Everything okay?” Amber mouthed to me.
I shrugged and she frowned, but the song ended and the producer called for commercial break. The guys went and thanked the hosts, said a round of goodbyes, and security ushered us into our vans. The crowd was big and closing in, screaming and yelling, cameras trained on our every step, and the silence when the doors closed was a relief.
There was no way we could go through a fast-food drive thru. “Maddox wanted KFC. I told him I’d get him some. Anyone else?” I asked Jeremy and Wes. And after a call to the other van, I put in a call to have our orders delivered to the hotel.
“How is he?” Jeremy asked. “Really?”
I met his eyes. “He’s okay. Apart from the feelings of failure and guilt for letting you guys down. If the doctor says he can’t perform . . . then I don’t know what he’ll do.”
Jeremy nodded slowly. “He’ll perform anyway.”
“And risk permanent larynx damage,” Wes added.
I sighed. “I’m sure he’ll be fine.”
He had to be.
He just had to be.
Maddox ate his mashed potatoes, half a chicken nugget, and a few fries while the others ate and chatted. He didn’t grimace when he swallowed, though, so I guessed his throat felt okay . . . but his smile was gone. He didn’t speak—not that he was supposed to—but his silence was somehow louder now than it had ever been.
We had a few minutes before Hardwick wanted to see Maddox, but I needed to talk to him first. I tapped my watch and he nodded, so I stood up, mumbled our excuses, and we went back to our room.
I pulled out two chairs at the table, sat in one, and waited for him to sit in the other. I scooted closer until our knees bumped and I took his hands. “I know you must be feeling like crap,” I said. “I just want you to know that it’s okay to feel that way.” He opened his mouth but I put my hand up. “No talking.”
Maddox sighed.
“Baby, I know watching them play without you must have been hard.”
He sucked on his bottom lip and he got a little teary.
“You wanna know what Jeremy said in the car? That it felt wrong without you. That something was missing. They didn’t want to perform without you.”
He tilted his head, anguished. “It was the first time,” he whispered.
“Hey, no talking.”
He shook his head; his voice was a little rough. “The band played without me.”
I cupped his cheek. “No, baby.”
“But it means they can. If they had to. Atrous would be okay.”
What the hell?
“Maddox, what are you saying?”
“All these years it was us five. We couldn’t be anything but five. We always said if one of us—” He swallowed hard. “If one of us couldn’t, or wouldn’t or didn’t want to . . .”
“Baby.”
“They’d be okay.” He let out a shaky breath. His chin wobbled. “I don’t know how long I can keep doing this, Roscoe. I don’t know how much I have in me. I’m so tired. I’m so fucking tired. But then I can’t be anything else. This is all I am. I don’t know who I am without this, without them. I don’t even know who I am with this.”
I held his face and kissed his forehead, his cheeks, his lips. “Oh, Maddox.”
“They could be Atrous without me.”
I shook my head because, no, I didn’t think they could be. But that was the problem. The whole band’s existence, the lives and professions of his four best friends was on Maddox’s shoulders. That responsibility, that pressure was what weighed him down.
He let out another shaky breath, then inhaled sharply, and again, and again. His breathing became jagged and shallow, and he put the heel of his hand to his sternum and he shook his head.
I cupped his face and made him look at me. “Breathe, Maddox. In.” I inhaled. “And out.”
So I breathed with him, slow and steady, in and out, until the fear in his eyes subsided.
Then there was a knock at the door. “It’s Doctor Hardwick.”
Goddammit.
I let out an almighty sigh, then looked up into Maddox’s eyes. “You up for this?”
He practiced his breathing, in and out, nice and slow, and nodded. I stood up, kissed him softly, and opened the door. As soon as the doc walked in, he could clearly tell something was up.
“Everything okay?”
Maddox nodded. “Yeah.”
“You’re not supposed to be talking.”
“First time just now. In three days.”
“That’s true, doc,” I said. “He hasn’t said a word in three days until just now.”
“How does your throat feel?”
“Better. The spray and the lozenges help.”
“Good.”
I put my hand on Maddox’s shoulder. “Want me to duck out for a bit?”
He shook his head. “Please stay.”
I sat on the bed while the doctor checked Maddox’s throat, looked in his ears, took his temperature. He was happy with his recovery. “Dance rehearsal this afternoon should be fine. Take it easy, though. And I want you to run through some light voice work this evening. Full stage rehearsal tomorrow should be okay, but don’t overdo it. No straining, no high notes. Okay?”
Maddox smiled. “Okay.”
I thought Hardwick might have been done or made some small talk before leaving, but he didn’t. He pulled out the chair next to Maddox and sat down. “You seemed a little stressed when I first came in.”
Maddox shook his head. “Nah. I’m fine. I’ll be better once I get back to work.”
“How are you feeling about the concert in two days?”
“Looking forward to it.”
“Being worried about your voice is no different than a pro football player worrying about their first game after an arm or a leg injury.”
“I’m not worried about being on stage, doc. Roscoe and I were just talking about—” Then he changed tack. “Actually, can you please tell him I now have the green light for a lot of sex?”
I barked out a laugh. “That is not what we were talking about!”
Hardwick’s smile ended with a sigh. “How many more concerts to go?”
I answered. “Five.”
The doc looked squarely at Maddox. “Okay. Five is doable. How’s the breathing?”
Breathing . . . because calling it what it was—anxiety, panic attacks, stress—was apparently off limits.
Maddox gave a small dismissive nod. “It’s fine.”
I raised my eyebrow, which Hardwick caught. He pursed his lips. “Maddox.”
“Roscoe helps me,” he said quickly. “If I can’t catch my breath.”
“And if Roscoe’s not around?” Hardwick asked gently. He had his hand on Maddox’s knee. “Maddox, it’s okay. You know what to do when you start to feel like you can’t get enough air. You can do it on your own if you have to.”
Maddox looked like he was about to protest, but the doc put his hand up. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but we are going to talk about it and we’re going to set up some appointments. After this tour. When we get back to LA. No more excuses.”
Maddox studied the table for a long second. “So, I wasn’t joking about the sex thing. It’s a go for launch, right? Because Roscoe is all about the rules. What the doctor says goes, so if you could just give him a nod, that’d be great. Or even if you don’t think it’s a good idea, if you could still just nod, I’d really appreciate that.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Christ, Maddox.”
The poor doc sighed and got to his feet. “You are medically fit to engage in whatever consensual activities you choose. As long as it’s not too strenuous. Oh, and no taking anything into the throat.”
Oh my god.
Maddox chuckled. “Believe me, it’s not going in my throat, doc.”
“Maddox! Jesus.” I couldn’t believe it.
“On that note, I shall leave you to it.” Hardwick picked up his bag just as there was a rather loud, obnoxious knock on the door.
“Hey, dickbag. Open the door.”
Maddox smiled. “Jeremy.”
“I’ll let him in, and I’ll go notify Ambrose that you’re good to go,” Hardwick said as he walked to the door, and two seconds later, Jeremy walked in.
“So, what’s the verdict?”
Maddox smiled. “He said the test results show, without doubt, that you’re the dickbag.”
Jeremy’s smile became a grin. “You can talk, which means you can sing?” Maddox nodded and Jeremy pulled him into a bear hug, his feet off the ground. “Thank fuck.”
Maddox laughed. I swear it made my heart squeeze to see him happy. “He has to take it easy today at dance rehearsal,” I said. “No pushing himself.”
Jeremy put his arm around Maddox’s shoulder. “Your dad is such a drag.”
Maddox shoved him, smiling. “Fuck you.”
“No thanks. We’ve been through this, Madz,” Jeremy joked. “I don’t swing that way.”
Maddox grabbed him by the back of the neck and they play-shoved for a bit, but Jeremy was soon pulling him to the door. “Come on, the boys are out there waiting to hear.”
Maddox spared me a glance over his shoulder as Jeremy led him out, but I already had my laptop in hand and was following them out. I had a lot of work to do, already feeling bad that Ryan and Amber had carried more than their share of our workload.
I followed Maddox and Jeremy into the common room and made my way over to the table where Ryan and Amber were sitting. They saw Maddox, saw how happy Jeremy was, and quickly deduced that he’d been given the all-clear to perform.
“Oh god, that’s a relief,” Amber said, giving me a warm smile. “I mean, I’m glad he’s okay, but the whole Plan B thing was getting a little daunting.”
I opened my laptop. “Plan B?”
“Yeah, what to do if he was out for this concert, for the rest of the tour,” Ryan answered, then he shrugged. “His position affects everyone: center choreography, main vocals.”
I tried to keep my expression neutral, but it wasn’t easy. “Yeah, I get it. But the boys did really well without him today. Changing the song to suit the circumstance was smart.”
