CHAPTER 1
hendrix
“… that’s why you’ll never love me,” I sang, holding on to the last note even though my voice was completely shredded.
The crowd of forty thousand plus at the Foro Sol had been amazing. Despite the blazing sun and my band being one of the first acts of the day, the place was packed. Our fans sang along with every number, and when Robbie hit the song’s final riff, they shook the stadium with their roar.
It made giving up the scheduled three-day break from our tour worth it. We’d been hesitant to accept at first, given how badly we needed the rest, but when the largest traveling rock festival in the world asks you to sub in for one of their opening acts, you do it.
We had barely unplugged our equipment in Prague when we were rushed to the airport for an overnight flight to Mexico City. I’d been too amped to sleep—or eat, for that matter.
Twelve hours later, I was backstage meeting one of my rock idols as thousands of people poured into the stadium. When he’d told me that the song I’d written about my high school shop teacherwas one of his favorites, I’d nearly passed out right then and there.
That may have been from the exhaustion, come to think of it.
Now, I swayed as the crowd went wild.
One more song. That’s all I had to do, then I could sleep for twenty-four hours before we had to wing our way back to Eastern Europe for the last seven dates of the tour. I could do this.
I could do this.
Gripping my guitar pick with a shaky hand, I wiped the sweat off my upper lip as I checked the set list at my feet. We’d changed a few things for the festival, and I was having a hard time remembering which song we’d chosen for the finale.
Looking down, however, made the stadium violently unstable. Not spinning, more like… swooping back and forth, like I was on one of those… um. Carnival Viking boat things.Swings. With the lights and the piped-in music. Back and forth. Back and?—
I vaguely wondered if Mexico City was in the middle of another big earthquake. But Sago, our drummer, went right into the opening beat of the next song.
Hmm. Maybe there wasn’t an earthquake.
We always ended our concerts with one of our old favorites, but I still couldn’t processwhichold favorite, and I had no hope of reading the set list. I gave Sago the signal to repeat the opening, something I’d had to do more than a few times on this tour. The crowd loved the edging and went wild for the extended intro.
I tried to widen my stance to stave off the vertigo or whatever, but the world kept swooping back and forth. It was a good thing I hadn’t eaten anything today because I’d be puking for sure. Only thing in my belly at this point were the yellow pills our manager handed me before I hit the stage.
Weirdly, I could focus on the row of unopened water bottles at my feet. Fuck, no wonder my voice was so wrecked. The sun was… Dammit, I’d missed the intro again.
Robbie glanced at the crowd and walked over to me, strumming his guitar, concern forcing his brows together. “Dude, you look?—”
That’s when everything went black.
Thank God.
At least the world had stopped swinging back and forth.
I knew where I was before I even opened my eyes. It was hard to miss the sharp smell of disinfectant or the rasp of shitty hospital gown material.
“I know you’re awake,” Paul said, his voice rough and annoyed.
Cracking an eyelid, I noted that he looked about as awful as I felt. The bags under his eyes were amplified by his glasses, his cheeks were red from drinking too much, and his stringy hair had been badly combed back over his bald spot.
I had no idea of the time or date. I’d regained consciousness at the stadium, then got rowdy in the ambulance. When theyrefused to take me to the airport, I decided to take a nap. Which was not the same as passing out.
“What the fuck did you give me?” I asked, eyeballing my IV and the monitor clamped to my finger.
“Shh,” Paul said, looking around as though Mexico’s version of drug enforcement was right outside the door. “The usual.”
That was an interesting way to put it, since he’d only started giving me pills when we’d hit Eastern Europe. He had said they were to balance me out, help me focus, and keep my energy up. I’d been too exhausted to care about the details. My buddies back home in Texas had begged me to stay off the road, but I would have gone out of my skin if I’d stayed.
I didn’t know how to make it make sense. I loved being with my friends. I even liked what my hometown was becoming. But being there felt like wearing a scratchy wool sweater three sizes too small.
