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Ezra
2 YEARS LATER
Adeep scowl settles across my face as I stare at Lenny Davidson and the rest of the label executives across the massive table. They’re fucking kidding themselves if they think I’m going back on tour. When Axel died, so did every ounce of my passion for my music.
It means nothing without him.
Lenny stares back at me, doing everything he can to exert his power over me, and while it’s definitely worked in the past, I’m no longer down to play his bullshit games. “Enough is enough, Ezra,” he growls, his tone making both Rock and Dylan clamp up on either side of me. They’re sticklers for the rules . . . within reason, of course. “Now, you’ve made it more than clear how you feel about completing the tour, but the time for fucking around is over. I’ve given you the time to grieve, to seek therapy, and get yourself in the right mind frame. You’re completing the tour whether you like it or not.”
I get to my feet, slamming my fists against the massive table. “That’s fucking bullshit, and you know it.”
“What’s bullshit is that tickets for the remainder of the tour were sold over three years ago. You have millions of fans out there, and while we’ve held them off with the promise of postponing the tour, there’s only so long we can push it. They’re becoming restless, Ezra. Your time is up.”
“FUCK!”
I whip around, pacing up and down the length of the boardroom as I blow my cheeks out, willing myself to find just a fraction of control. My hands pulse into fists at my sides as I close my eyes, not daring to slow my pace.
“Come on, man,” Rock says. “Just hear them out. You know we were always best when we were out on tour.”
“Without Ax?” I demand, turning my glare on him. “You’re fucking kidding me, right? You want to do this knowing that they’re going to replace him, knowing that every time you look across the fucking stage, there’s some imposter standing where he used to be?”
Rock stands, returning my glare tenfold. “And you want to have a fucking tantrum and let down all of our fans, knowing that this is what Ax would have wanted?”
I clench my jaw, hating it when he uses reason with me. I know completing this tour is the right thing to do, and sure, I plan on doing it at some point, but I don’t think there’s ever going to be a time when it feels right.
Letting out a heavy breath, I turn to Dylan, already knowing what his answer will be. “And you?”
“You know how I feel,” he tells me. “I just want to get the rest of the tour over and done with, and then after that . . . I don’t know. We can enter a new era. Maybe we can look at some new music that won’t feel so fucking wrong to perform without him.”
I shake my head. “You know I’m not writing anything new,” I remind him. The day Axel died, so did any connection to Rae. She was my muse, and the day she stood in the foyer of that church and told me I’d failed Axel with nothing but pure hatred in her eyes, it was finally over.
I hurt her when I left, and in one fell swoop, she took all the pain she felt over those years, bundled it up, and let it storm down over me like acid rain. She left me crippled, and since that moment, I’ve done nothing but spiral. Hell, I haven’t even started to grieve for my best friend. I haven’t been able to even feel the agony of his death because that day, Rae left me empty.
“I know. But this might just be what you need to kickstart the process,” he says. “Bottom line is, we have to complete this tour. Canceling it is not an option, and postponing again is only going to cause an avalanche of bullshit to land on our fucking doorstep. It’s time, Ezra.”
Fuck.
I feel the familiar vise closing around my chest, squeezing me too fucking tight—a feeling I’ve become all too accustomed to over the past two years. “I’m not writing. If you fuckers want new music, then come to the fucking party for a change. I’m done pouring my life into my words, only for them to be exploited by assholes like this,” I say, waving a hand toward the executives sitting before me.
“Okay, we’ll deal with that when the time comes,” Rock says. “If your muse is gone, that’s fine. We’ll figure something out. For now, let’s just focus on wrapping the tour. After that, we’ll see where our heads are and figure out our next steps.”
I nod, not liking it one fucking bit.
There’s no doubt about it, next to losing Axel and letting Rae officially walk out of my life, this will be the hardest thing I will ever do.
The fight leaves me, and I turn my broken stare on Lenny. “Every show has a dedication to Ax.”
“Of course.”
I nod, trying to mentally go over everything before making any official agreement. “We have final say over Axel’s replacement. Talent alone isn’t going to cut it. If he’s a piece of shit, he’s out. He needs to understand he’s nothing but a stand-in.”
Lenny nods. “Consider it done.”
I drop back down into my seat, dragging my hands over my face. “How much time?”
“Two months and you’ll be commencing the European leg of the tour.”
“Two months?” I ask, whipping my head up. Two months is nothing. We haven’t rehearsed since Axel died. I haven’t even picked up my fucking guitar. My throat is wrecked, and I can barely make it through the day without taking a hit of something. “That’s bullshit. We need at least six.”
