Why am I in trouble? I didn’t start this.
I walk over to the basin and wash my face, watching as the water turns a deep red and the smell of copper fills the room. Grabbing a paper towel from the rack, I wipe my face clean. Then I look up in the mirror and assess the damage. I look like shit. The bruises are discoloring my skin, but they will eventually disappear.
Zeke’s probably beating himself up over our tussle in the corridor now that the adrenaline is wearing off. He shouldn’t feel bad. I deserved his anger. He would do a lot worse to me if he knew the truth. They both would. My shoulders slump as I stare at myself in the mirror, my lip curls in disgust while looking at my reflection. “I’m sorry, Brodie. I wish things were different.”
Shaking the memories of that night from my consciousness, I walk out into the corridor and see Jackson alone, waiting for me.
“They’re all in the conference room,” he tells me. “Hey,” he says, stopping me before going into the room. “Vanessa and Christian want the best for you. They aren’t your enemies. Trust the process,” he says cryptically.
I give him a nod in understanding and head on into the conference room where Eli and Zeke are sitting, whispering to each other.
Zeke looks up as I enter, and his face drops, seeing the bruises percolating.
“I’m fine,” I reassure him.
Zeke shakes his head and scrunches his brows together as he pulls himself out of Eli’s embrace. “I’m sorry, brother,” he says gruffly.
“It’s all good,” I tell him.
“Now that’s all sorted,” Christian says, pulling our attention to where he’s seated at the top of the table, and Jackson takes a seat beside him. “The label has decided in light of your most recent scandal that it’s best you leave LA.”
We look at each other.
What the hell does that mean?
“Ibiza, here we come,” Eli jokes, trying to break the serious mood of the room.
“Keep dreaming, dickhead,” Christian tells him.
“We think it’s best you get away from the temptation this city offers.”
This does not sound good.
We like the temptation.
Temptation is good.
“We have found a great place for you. To concentrate on your next album without the distractions of LA,” Christian explains.
“Where are we going? Hawaii? London? Australia?” Zeke asks.
“Montana.” Christian smiles.
“What the actual fuck?” I state, staring at him.
“What the fuck is in Montana?” Eli asks
“Cowboys and shit,” Zeke adds.
“I don’t mind the odd cowboy or cowgirl.” Eli chuckles, wiggling his brows at Zeke.
“Reverse cowgirl is a favorite.” Zeke laughs as they high-five each other.
Fucking idiots.
“You’re leaving us in the wilderness … hoping for what?” I ask Christian.
“Hoping the second album gets written, but right now, I’d be happy if you just got your shit together,” Christian tells me.
Silence falls across the conference room.
“When will this boy scout camp start?” I question angrily.
“Today,” Christian answers with a knowing smile.
Today? What the fuck!
“What about all our shit?” Zeke asks.
“I’ve got people packing bags for you as we speak. You won’t need much. Everything is provided for you,” Jackson explains.
“If we’ve missed anything, I’m happy to send it over to you once you’re settled in,” Christian advises.
“You’re going to shuttle us off into the wilderness?” I question.
“Are there bears in Montana?” Eli asks.
“Yes,” Jackson answers with a grin.
“Fuck!” Eli curses.
“What about cougars?” Zeke asks.
“Probably,” Jackson states.
“Cougars are my favorite,” Eli jokes.
“Mine too.” Zeke grins, and they high-five each other again.
Christian looks over at me and raises a brow as if to ask, Are they always like this?
I wish I could say this was a one-off, but it’s not. I shrug my shoulders not much I can do about these two because they’re always like this.
“Good luck with that.” Christian chuckles while he stands as does Jackson. “Boys, good luck in Montana. Make us proud. You can do this. Dirty Texas Records has faith in you.”
I wish I did.
An hour later, we are rolling up to Van Nuys Airport, a private airport where the Dirty Texas jet is waiting for us.
“So, they’re serious about sending us into the middle of butt-fuck nowhere.” Zeke moans as he stares at the private plane.
“Of course, they were. We fucked up, guys. I told you this is it. We continue to keep fucking up and they will pull our contract.”
“Someone else will pick us up.” Eli huffs.
“Not if they think we are a liability. Plus, we dreamed of working with Dirty Texas, and now we are throwing it all away because we’re being stubborn?” I argue.
“We’re not doing it on purpose,” Zeke grumbles.
“I know,” I answer softly. “But we need to think about moving forward.”
“I don’t want to without Brodie.” Zeke sighs.
“None of us do.”
“It was so fucking selfish of him to die on us like that. Why the fuck did he do it?” Eli mumbles angrily as he kicks a stone across the tarmac.
Guilt slides over my skin. I can’t tell them the real reason he ran that night. I can’t lose them too.
“Welcome to your flight.” The male steward smiles at us as we enter the plane.
Of course, he would be male. They are serious about taking away our temptation. Not that it would stop Zeke and Eli.
“Would you like something to drink?”
“I’ll have a Jack and Coke, please?” Eli asks.
“Sorry, sir. This is a dry flight. No alcohol will be served.”
We all look at each other.
“Fuck! They are serious.” Eli swears as if the gravity of what’s happening to us sets in.
“Three cokes, please,” I answer for the guys.
The steward nods and heads to the back of the plane.
“Thank fuck, I still have some edibles. Who wants in?” Zeke whispers, pulling out three balls that look like candy.
“Me,” Eli says, grabbing one out of Zeke’s hand before popping it in his mouth.
Zeke shakes his hand, and I grab the other ball.
I’m going to regret this, but I need it to get through this flight with all my bruises. I pop it in my mouth, and it doesn’t take long until the stress, tension, and pain subside, and I relax into the leather seat.
Maybe this will not be as bad as we think it is.
We need to concentrate on writing, and getting away from LA might be exactly what we need.
Two hours later, we descend into the fucking mountains, where there’s nothing but pine trees and wide-open plains before us. We land on some nature strip that looks like it’s out the back of someone’s house. A black Jeep pulls up beside the plane.
Who the hell is that? I can’t see through the tinted windows. They wait until the plane’s engines have stopped before jumping out.