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I circled the car to get in, like Zade told me, moving slowly and steadily. I didn’t want to upset him and have him shoot me or anyone else. I pulled the door handle and saw Drake out of the corner of my eye. He motioned for me to get down. I trusted the man, so I dropped to the ground without question.
A gunshot blasted close by—so close. I wrapped my arms over my head. Another blast. I was shaking. What happened? I couldn’t see anything but fuck if I was getting back up. Hell to the no.
Before I could register what was going on around me, Coleman was there holding me. “It’s okay, baby. Police are on the way.” I let him pull me into his arms and hold me. I never felt so loved. So comforted as he rocked me.
Drake spoke with the officers as they loaded Zade into an ambulance. He was hurt but not dead. No one else was shot. Apparently, Zade had shot first. And missed. Drake did not. He hit Zade in the shoulder. But it was enough for Zade to drop the gun, so Drake could tackle him.
I tucked my face against Coleman’s neck. “Need a drink. And a joint. And you. Like now. And not necessarily in that order.”
eleven
Concerned from Boston to Denver
Ameeting was called at the Xfinity Center where the guys were playing in Boston about what happened and heightening our security. Ziggy was okay but still a bit freaked out. I was hoping this meeting might ease his concerns. And mine.
We walked into the room that had been set up for a press conference that was going to happen right after our meeting. They were going to ask about the incident. No way around it.
“Yo! For once, you’re not late.” Miami pulled Ziggy into a tight hug.
“You know what they say. The show must go on.”
Jinx patted his back. “What do you need help with, man? Counseling or some shit?”
Ziggy flipped him off. “You were living in California too long. East coasters deal with their issues like badasses.”
“That’s not healthy, dude.” Jinx’s concern was touching. Miami and Wolf looked worried too.
“Seriously, I’m fine. Zade is getting the help he needs. We’re moving on.” That was true. In lieu of pressing charges, Ziggy insisted Zade be kept at the hospital for psych evaluations. They would also notify us if and when he was released. The officials at the hospital seemed to think he’d be there a while based on the shooting and the reasons behind it. Zade was obviously delusional.
“So, what do we tell the press?” Wolf asked, sitting in his spot behind the table.
Marci walked in at that exact moment with the answer. “That there was an incident, and no one was hurt. Security measures are being taken. That’s it.” She pointed at each of the guys. “I mean it. Ziggy.”
“What?” He held his hands up in protest.
“Nothing. Else.” Marci was a hard ass sometimes, but she was exactly who these guys needed managing this tour.
Miami winked at her. “We’ve got it. Right, man?”
Ziggy dropped into the chair beside Wolf and immediately started tapping his fingers on the table. “You got it. Nothing else.”
There were extra guards in the room around us. And we’d have two with us everywhere now. I knew Ziggy wasn’t going to like that, especially with the way he liked to sneak off and smoke pot. I didn’t know if he thought he was hiding it or keeping it downlow, but he wasn’t fooling anyone. I was worried that he was smoking more than normal, though. Especially after the crappy show in Philly.
Ziggy insisted he was tired, so I had a remedy for that. “Okay. We have time before the show in Denver, so I’m inviting the band to stay at my house. It’ll be fun. You can hang out and chill, but there are other things you can do, too.”
“That sounds good.” Miami fist-bumped me.
I was excited to have everyone coming—finally, a houseful. It was going to be fun. Everyone started talking about it while we waited for the press to come in. Jinx and Miami wanted to try skiing. Harrison said he could teach them. But Ziggy and Wolf weren’t into it. “We can, like, hike or something instead,” Wolf suggested.
“That sounds good.” Ziggy high-fived him.
The rest of the day went smoothly. Soundcheck, a short meet and greet. Bramble Punk took the stage and rocked the fuck outof it. They were improving, but Kay wasn’t happy when he came off stage.
Harrison’s brother went with them to the dressing room, supposedly to talk to Kay. They were definitely a thing now. But I didn’t worry about it. They could take care of their own shit. I was there for Ziggy, and he took the stage first as soon as the roadies moved the Punk’s drums off stage, wearing his trademark sleeveless button-up shirt and twirling a drumstick over his head. He was in a better mood and had said his back wasn’t bothering him, so I expected him to kick ass. He threw the sticks out into the audience and riled them up before climbing behind the kit. He was sexy as hell. The epitome of a rockstar, even after all these years. And he was all mine.
The new plane was great. Comfortable. Miami and Jinx bee-lined for the couches in the back like a couple of horny kids. Everyone else was more mature—even Ziggy. Wolf wasn’t bouncing on the furniture like those two, but he was touchingeverything and saying, “Nice. Mmhmm. Nice.” While my man was doing the opposite of his bandmates. He was acting uber-cool about it, as if he took a private jet every day or had three parked in his garage. But I knew better than to believe his act. He was impressed.
Hell, I was impressed. “This really turned out nice.”
