Page 78 of The Comedown

Collette smirks the ugliest fucking smirk I’ve ever seen because it’s cruel, deliberately cruel, as she says, “I’m not staying on the bus tonight,” before following up with the ugliest fucking wink imaginable. I swear this shit’ll haunt me for the rest of my life.

“You ain’t finding a hotel with availability,” I lie. In the process of trying to forget everything, I forgot everything, including my plan to buy out every hotel in the city. Not that I could afford to, but I would’ve booked as many as I could before my cards shut off because unlike my credit cards, my pettiness has zero limits.

“I’m not staying in a hotel either,” she says as she climbs into a waiting golf cart.

She’s leaving. She’s leaving me. She’s leaving me to go be with someone else.

I should’ve said “your king.”

Not sure what to do or say, I flip her off again, hoping she’ll come back and hand me my own ass because at least when she’s pissed, she doesn’t ignore me. Or leave me.

Don’t leave.

All she does is return the gesture with her own middle finger as the golf cart pulls away though, leaving me standing here feeling more like a clown than a king.

Axel finds me stuck in the same spot, asking what the hell we’re gonna do now.

“After-party,” is all I say. I mean, what the fuck else is there to do? Collette just left to do whatever the fuck she wants, so Imma do whatever the fuck I want.

What I want just left me.

“After-party?” Axel parrots. “There wasn’t even a full show tonight.”

“Remember Miami?”

He chuckles, telling me, “We can’t do that this time.”

“Why the hell not?” It was the early days, but who cares? We could pull that shit off again. Instead of surf and sun, we got rain, which in Cali should be celebrated.

“Uh, Collette. And Holter.”

I’ve always thought of Axel as a brother. We’ve been playing together for fucking years. Even when I couldn’t afford to have my own drummer, I still found a way to keep him with me. He was too talented not to use and too important for me to let go. But hearing those names slip from his lips so easily, like he’s the one that gets to worry about Collette and Holter, like he cares about them, it does something to me. Makes me want to pull each and every one of his teeth out, from tip to root. He doesn’t get to just care for them. They’re not his to care for.

“Holter’s around?” I ask, side-eyeing him.

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen Bare for a while.”

I catch sight of Slade and call him over to ask where Bare is. He’s supposed to be with Holter any time Collette isn’t, but I’ve been out of touch for the last few hours—ever since Collette closed and locked the only door that’s opened for me without having to pay a price for admission.

“He should be here soon.”

“With Holter?”

“No. I called him off Holter.”

“Why?”

“Are you kidding?”

I stare at him blankly because, would I be fucking asking if I was kidding?

“Fuck. With the weather turning, we need him here, covering you—”

“I don’t give a fuck about me!” Jesus Christ. Out of everyone, he should know that. “You don’t get to make those calls. That’s not your place.”

“Yes, it is,” he says, pushing into my personal space.

“You know what?” I shove his face out of mine, pointing at him with a shaky hand. “I let it slide when you put Collette in danger in San Diego.” His eyes go wide and I smirk. Motherfucker thought he was slick. “And now you’re making calls that aren’t yours. Bare stays with Holter. Period.”