“Can’t Frank’s lawyers build a case too?” I sounded desperate. Like a child whose candy was being confiscated.
“For God’s sake, Cassy!” Brooklyn whipped out her hands and waved them in the air, her eyes blazing with anger. “He had enough cocaine in his system to kill a damn cow the night of the accident. He clearly doesn’t understand what he’s doing anymore. One day he’ll kill himself trying to somersault on stage per the fans’ requests.”
She knew! She fucking knew.
I felt as if someone had just punched me in the throat. My breath caught. I didn’t know what exactly upset me more—the fact that Frank’s personal assistant was privy to his medical records and I wasn’t, or the fact that his record label was kicking him to the curb. Either way, things were shit.
Then came a long pause. Brooklyn paced the office, chewing on her bottom lip and cracking her fingers.
“Since when did drugs become a crime in rock ’n’ roll?” I muttered.
“Parts of the contract were revised last year before the label went public with the reunion. Because of possible complications, neither KBC nor the insurance company want to be responsible for accidents caused by his mismanagement of his health. That includes narcotics.”
“But that’s ridiculous.”
“It’s not.” She shot me a blank stare. “Hall Affinity is an investment, and KBC wants to protect that investment. There’re plenty of bands that replaced the original singer and did quite well. Journey, Black Sabbath, Stone Temple Pilots. It’s business, Cassy, and Frank is a casualty.”
Whether I liked it or not, Brooklyn was right and I appreciated her honesty.
“I still need to tell him.” She dropped her arms to her sides and strode past me. “Is he awake?”
“Yes. Do you want me to tell him?” I asked as I followed her.
“No, honey.” She shook her head. “It’s best you take a back seat for this one.”
We found Frank on the terrace. I stood in front of the sliding door and watched Brooklyn through the glass. He sat in a chair and gazed at the waves crashing into the rock formations.
I had to remind myself to breathe. My heart thudded against my ribs, and my stomach turned. I couldn’t see his expression while Brooklyn delivered the news. Only his back and the slump of his shoulders. But I imagined the color leaving his face and the anger brewing in his eyes, and the scariest thing was that I could picture all these changes in such vivid detail, my brain almost hurt physically.
Brooklyn’s features went sour. She waited for Frank to react, but he continued to stare into the distance as if the answer to all his questions was hidden somewhere on the horizon.
“He needs some space right now,” she rattled off, stepping inside, and marched to the office.
My gut told me to stay away, but I went against its wishes and wobbled onto the terrace.
“I’m s-sorry.” There was a stagger in my voice.
Frank remained silent. A mask of indifference covered his face.
I walked over to the chair and rested my palm on his shoulder, needing a physical connection with him. His muscles twitched from my touch, but he didn’t react otherwise.
“Do you need anything?” I tested the waters.
“No.”
“Do you want to lie down?”
“It’s fine,” he slurred. His stitches were still raw and sensitive and he’d taken a whole lot of pain meds earlier, which probably only worsened his current state of mind.
I could only guess what the news Brooklyn had dumped on him was doing to his head.
“Are you sure? You don’t look very good.”
“I just got fired from my own band, doll.” He looked up at me. “What do you suggest I do? Celebrate?” There was a sudden shift in his tone, from indifferent to cold.
For a second, I’d forgotten about the meeting. My brain was preoccupied with Frank. I expected some sort of tantrum again, and the silence worried me more than ever.
“I want to be alone for a while,” he finally said, his gaze trained on the ocean.
I felt rejected. “I can stay…We can talk about it if you want…” I offered meekly.
“I don’t want to talk, Cassy. I want to be alone.”
And just like that, he slipped away. From the world. From his responsibilities. From me.
The news hit the internet when I was battling the gridlock on the PCH. My phone buzzed nonstop. Emails, texts, and notifications kept coming, and as much as I wanted to shut it off, I needed to call Levi to tell him I was running behind.
I’ll be a little late,” I explained. My GPS, however, indicated the delay would be more than a little.
“KBC just dropped your boyfriend!” he yelled, voice wheezy. “Did you know about this?”
My mind was blank with rage. “Do we have to discuss this right now?” I was pissed at Frank for shutting me out and pissed at the label and the people there who deemed him another throwaway, someone they could use and abuse and then toss aside. Just like Isabella.
“What the actual fuck!” Levi continued to ramble. “Firing the face of the band.”
“I really don’t know what to tell you.”
“Who the hell goes to see Hall Affinity for Johnny Z?”
Levi was right. Johnny was merely a regular guy next door in designer clothes with a bass strapped over his neck. Carter was a hired gun. He didn’t have a say. His job was to smile for the cameras and keep those drums going during the shows. But then there was Dante. A guitar god. A virtuoso with the smile of a sinner and the manners of Casanova. He didn’t have the gift of the voice, but with the addition of the right singer, his charisma and his solos could probably still sell out an arena. He was everyone’s—women, fans, tabloids—favorite.
So, yes, realistically, the band could totally pull off the tour with the proper replacement.
My head pounded and I barely saw the road. It was all just a huge blur of cars. Different sizes and shapes with a wall of red brake lights and a throng of arms stuck out into the salty air.
“You know what? My mom’s on the other line,” I lied. “See you in a bit.”
Unsettled, I killed the call and tossed my phone in my purse.
The Guitar Center was busy and the crowd made me oddly uncomfortable. I didn’t know what exactly it was—worry for Frank or worry for our relationship, but halfway through the meeting, I excused myself and rushed to the bathroom to call Janet.
My emotions got the best of me.
I needed to know he was okay.
“I believe he’s sleeping,” Janet said.
“Will you please call me if there’s an emergency?” I had no idea why I’d said that. It was my gut’s idea.
“He just needs some time to process, child. He’ll come around.”
I returned to the floor, but my head wasn’t right. Levi did most of the heavy-lifting for the remainder of the meeting, and I utilized the only tool in my arsenal that still semi-worked. My smile. My cheeks soon started to hurt from the constant flexing, but hooray! The rep seemed very interested in the project, specifically in Frankie Blade’s involvement. He even joked about Dante needing to switch to Schecter. Poor sap probably hadn’t heard about Dante and Frankie getting a divorce.