“I’m aware,” I reply, voice raspy from sleep.
“Get your ass out of bed.” He snaps his fingers, flicking on the light. “We have a meeting to get to in twenty minutes.”
“A fucking meeting for what? I just got home.”
Like the asshole he is, he rips the blankets off the bed. Sebastian’s eyes fall to my flaccid cock and balls, and he rolls his eyes, looking annoyed by my nudity, as if he wasn’t the one who just ripped the covers off me in my own goddamn house. “A meeting to discuss your future with this fucking band.”
I scoff, rolling out of bed. There’s a pair of discarded sweats on the floor that have been there for who knows how long—since before I went to Black Diamond, that’s for sure. Tugging them on, I amble over to my closet, plucking a t-shirt off the hanger. “I fucking did what you wanted, Sebastian. I went to rehab. What the fuck is there to discuss?”
“Caspian, you got kicked out of the program for fighting. That wasn’t part of the deal.”
Spinning on my heels, I shove my finger in his face. I don’t miss the way he slightly flinches. “Fuck you,” I spit out. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me, you asshole. If it weren’t for your little fucking spy, I wouldn’t have been kicked out in the first fucking place!”
His brows pinch. “What the fuck are you talking about? I didn’t have a spy.”
“Oh, fuck off. You don’t get to fuck with my life and take away the band. I don’t fucking think so, and you know damn well none of the guys would go for that.”
He smirks. It takes all my self-control to not deck him in his smug fucking face. “I’m not the only one sick of your shit, Caspian.”
“Yeah, we’ll fucking see about that.” Shoving my feet into a pair of sneakers, I blow past him, out the door. “Let’s go.”
* * *
“You’re beinga little fucking harsh, don’t you think, Seb?” Atticus, the guitarist for Wicked Hearts, and my best friend, cocks his head at Sebastian, twirling a green lighter between his fingers as we all sit around the table in the building the label owns.
We’ve been here all of twenty minutes, and it’s already going exactly how I expected it would. Sebastian is demanding the band replaces me for the length of the international tour, and Cory, our bassist, and the biggest kiss-ass I’ve ever met, is trying to side with him, stating I didn’t fulfill my end of the deal, and I’m too much of a loose cannon. Atticus and Harlan, our lead vocalist, are both very adamantly on my side.
“I’m not beingharsh, Atticus. I’m being responsible. Something all of you should work a little harder on.”
“You know damn well the fans want Caspian,” Harlan interjects, removing the toothpick from his mouth. A red bandana tied around his head hides most of his shoulder-length brown hair, and the white shirt he’s wearing is ripped up and bedazzled. It matches the jeweled bell bottoms he’s got on. Harlan’s style is… different. He stands out, but it’s something the fans go fucking crazy over. “If we show up to any of those shows with anybody on drumsbesidesCaspian, you know we’ll fucking hear about it.”
Sebastian pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling an exasperated sigh. If he wasn’t such a fucking dick all the time, I might even feel sorry for him. It can’t be easy managing five adults, making sure they’re always staying in line, not getting into trouble. But I’m positive he could do it without being such an asshole.
“Man, just give him a fucking break.” All eyes turn toward Quinn, our keyboardist and back-up vocalist. Out of the bunch, he’s the biggest stoner and the most chill, go-with-the-flow guy. He never causes trouble, never acts like a diva, and he certainly never gets involved in drama with the other band members and Seb.Ever. Not because he doesn’t care about us—because I know he does—but because it’s just not his personality. So, I know I’m not the only one gawking at him currently. He ignores it all, though, eyes meeting Sebastian’s. “He did what you asked, Sebby. Yeah, he got kicked out for fighting, but he had what? A few weeks at most left. Cut him some fucking slack.”
“Yeah, Sebby, cut me some slack.”
Sebastian’s eyes narrow as they drag to meet mine. “This isn’t a fucking joke, Caspian. A woman died. How do you think that looks on you? On all of us?”
“I don’t think it’s a fucking joke,” I reply, trying my best to remain calm, but he’s pissing me off. “Yeah, she died, but I didn’t shove the drugs down her throat. She was a grown ass adult who chose to do them. Her death wasn’t my fucking fault, and you know it!”
He shakes his head, hands planted on his hips. “And how do you think it’ll look to the public that you had basically zero repercussions, Cas, huh? You got kicked out of the treatment center that we publicly announced you were going to. Then, the world gets to watch you go on tour after you were kicked out.”
“So, don’t fucking tell them I was kicked out, Sebastian!” Raising to my feet, the chair I was sitting in is kicked back, scraping along the floor. “There are NDAs in place. Black Diamond can’t disclose I was kicked out, so keep your fucking mouth shut, and we’ll be fine. Jesus Christ, do you always have to be such a fucking asshole all the time? I’ve done what you fucking asked me. I did the work, even when I didn’t have to or want to.”
I reach into my pocket, pulling out the leather-bound journal, slapping it onto the table.
“What the hell is that?” Sebastian asks, the rest of the room silent.
“It’s proof that I did what you asked.” I pick up the journal, flipping through the pages, not letting him read it, but at least showing him there’s shit written inside.
His normally perfectly slicked-back hair is a mess from all the times he’s raked his fingers through it since he’s picked me up earlier. “And what about the drugs, Cas?”
“What about the drugs?” I ask through gritted teeth. “Yes, I enjoy them, but what fucking rock star doesn’t? I don’t do them any more than anybody else in this room, and you fucking know it. Besides, I’ve been in rehab for the last however long, so clearly, I don’t need themthatbad.” Grabbing the journal, I shove it back into my pocket with a quick glance around the room before making my way to the door. I don’t have the energy to deal with him and this bullshit. I haven’t even thought about drugs once since I’ve been back, but I don’t bother saying that, because I doubt it would make a difference. “You know what? I’m exhausted from the flight. I’m going back to bed, but you let me know once you’ve decided if I’m worthy enough to go on your precious fucking tour, okay?”
Then I’m out. He doesn’t try to stop me, but I can feel his eyes burning a hole into my back as I make my exit.
CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX
