My heart sinks, and it’s like I can’t breathe.
“What medical bills, Mom?”
“Your dad helped get Tyler’s dad on the donor list. He paid for everything. Honey…I think he blackmailed Tyler.”
Blackmail?
“Mom…I have to go. Thank you for telling me this.”
“I’m so sorry, honey. I really wish I’d found out earlier.”
“It’s not your fault. I’ll get Kay to call you later, okay?”
“Okay, honey. Love you.”
I end the call. My knees feel weak to the point I have to lean on a tree. I might be sick.
My dad is the reason Tyler stopped all contact. All those times when I called him and he didn’t pick up his phone, was he on the other side of the call wanting to pick up and speak to me?
All the memories of the early days of being in the band come back to me, but the blinders have been taken off. My dad’s pride in my success was hiding his victory for taking me away from the one person I loved the most.
Why? Because Tyler was poor? Because he was a man?
My head hurts and my eyes sting with unshed tears.
I need to see Tyler.
21
TYLER
THEN
The opening bandhad been fantastic, and I’d found myself humming along with the crowd, but now was the moment I traveled a thousand miles for.
A hundred spotlights move around the stadium lighting up the crowd. Then the sound of a drumbeat starts slow, increasing in tempo as the drummer, Stone, appears on stage from a well. The effect is spellbinding.
Stone looks like the kind of man who wouldn’t be seen anywhere near a drop of sweat. In every photo I’ve seen of him, he’s been perfectly groomed and dressed in designer wear from head to toe. I wonder if his underwear is also branded.
I laugh at my ridiculous thought.
“Oh my god, he’s so gorgeous,” a girl next to me shouts.
“I’d lick him from head to toe and then some,” another one says.
Can’t say I blame them, but however pretty Stone is, he has nothing on the person I’ve come to see. Mik’s second on stage, followed by the bassist, Fox. Their moves are so beautifully choreographed and flawless. The singer is the last one on, descending from a platform in the ceiling.
The music that’s been building as each of the guys came on stage gets louder, and three seconds after Bastian descends from the ceiling, he opens his mouth, and magic happens.
I hate that their music provokes a reaction in me.
I hate that I would give both my legs to be on stage with them.
I hate that they are so good.
I hate that they stole my best friend.
I hate it even more that what we had was so easily disposed of for a life of song and glory.
