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Chapter 1 - Maddox
My head was splitting.
Every time I hit the drums, it sent a shockwave of pain through my skull. I squeezed my eyes shut, gulping down water between songs. My throat felt like it had been rubbed with sandpaper, and I couldn’t get enough air in my lungs.
Rehearsal was a struggle today. It was my own fault, really. I’d gone out drinking with my bandmates. Well, mostly just Garrett and I, since Carter wasn’t partying anymore. We’d gone out the night before as well, and countless nights before that, too. Somehow, over the past few months, we’d gone off the rails. Each of us had our reasons: Garrett had shit with his ex, Carter was going through some financial stuff and me… well, I’d been hit with some family legal issues that I wasn’t quite ready to face yet.
I’d been avoiding them for a long time. Avoiding the emails marked ‘urgent’ and ‘please reply’. Avoiding the envelopes sent to my house and the incessant phone calls from blocked numbers. My lawyer was at her wit’s end, I knew it, but I still couldn’t face her. I just partied to numb the pain of it all.
And now as I sat sweating at my drum kit, the stench of alcohol seeping out of my pores, I knew something had to change.
I messed up a song and the three of us stopped playing. Garrett, our lead singer and guitarist, glanced back at me and I could see the annoyance in his eyes. Nerves were frayed, and tensions were at an all-time high.
“You do remember how to play the drums, don’t you?” Garrett said, his dark eyes even darker than usual. I rolled my eyes and clutched my drumsticks until my knuckles turned white.
All three of us had strong personalities. We’d grown up together, and we often butted heads. We were always able to put it aside for the band, though. For the music. In the rehearsal space, in the studio, on stage—we were equals.
But Garrett was looking at me with fire in his eyes and the tension between us was escalating. Carter, our bassist, cleared his throat.
“Let’s just take it from the top,” he grumbled, eyeing both of us. “Then we can go out and get a fucking beer.”
Garrett grunted, turning back to his microphone and I counted us in. We stumbled through the song but made it to the end relatively unscathed.
The three of us were silent.
“How the fuck are we supposed to go on a world tour if we can’t even play our own fucking music?” Garrett grumbled.
Carter scoffed. “He’s just fucking hungover, man.”
I grunted in agreement.
Garrett dragged his fingers through his hair and shook his head. Carter glanced at me, pursing his lips. I shrugged.
Was this how bands broke up? They just stopped being able to play together? Other shit just got in the way and then they couldn’t talk to each other anymore?
The thought of us breaking up made my heart squeeze in my chest, and I smashed my drumsticks against the drums in frustration.
It sent another wave of pain and nausea through me, and I closed my eyes to try to regain control over my rebelling body.
When I opened my eyes, Garrett and Carter were looking at me, and I stood up in frustration.
“I need a break,” I grumbled, brushing past them to walk out the rehearsal space. I stalked down the hallway and out the front door, sinking down on the front steps of the building. It was an old building in a mostly abandoned industrial park in town. Bands rented out various rooms to rehearse in, since there were no neighbors to bother.
We’d been rehearsing there for years. Even after we hit it big with our second album we still kept the same rehearsal space. It was like our second home. If we weren’t in the studio, we were here.
I’d sat on those steps many times. I looked up at the sky, wishing I could see stars through the smog and light pollution of Los Angeles. I took a deep breath, dropping my head in my hands, and then my phone rang.
I answered it without thinking.
“Maddox!” My lawyer’s voice sounded through the receiver. I grunted. “Don’t hang up!”
Hillary sounded excited that I’d actually picked up her call. She was a tough woman, all business all the time. The excitement in her voice wasn’t typical.
“Listen, Maddox, I really need to speak with you. Are you available to come in to my office this week?”
“Not really,” I said, not knowing if it was true or not, but having no desire to make the trip to go see her. “Just tell me what you need to tell me over the phone.”
She sighed, and seemed to weigh her options. Finally she made a noise.
