Since Ryan has made it abundantly clear that I’m not welcome, I don’t have a home.
I don’t have anything.
In my haste to leave the UK, I didn’t think about a backup plan. I thought returning to the States would make me feel like I was home again. But right now, I feel more out of place here than I did in the UK. At least there, I had friends, a stand-in family, and a damn job.
I suppose I could go home to San Francisco and see my sister, Mouse, and her husband. But she’s always so full of her own self-importance, and I’m sure she’ll make me feel like shit about Ella. As for Mom and Dad, there’s no way I’m going to see them. They’re way too much hassle. It’s too hard to cope with their hippy bullshit.
Turning back to look at Ryan, I shrug. “Don’t worry about me, Ry. I’ll find my feet. I always do. Oh, and clean the house, you filthy animal.”
Ryan chuckles as he stands in his doorway, watching me walk away. “Glad to see some of the old Danger is still in you.”
“He never left… he was only dormant for a while.”
“Glad you’re home, Danger.”
“I’m glad I’m home too, fucker. Offer’s still on the table… but don’t take too long to come crawling back to me.”
“Find yourself, Danger. Then we’ll talk.”
I take a deep breath while walking along the path with my luggage dragging behind me. The first thing I need to do is call a cab. I’m not sure where to go, but then an idea hits me. While I’ve traveled as a rock star, I have never truly enjoyed the places I’ve been. I was always caught up in the lifestyle, whether it was with my band or Ella’s.
I could travel.
I could see the world.
I mean,trulysee it.
Money isn’t an issue after making so much with Recoil before I gave up on them.
I could leave and see the world as a tourist rather than a rock star or the fiancé of a rock star.
I have a plan.
I am going to travel.
Fucking lucky I have the appropriate visas. Managing bands with Rob has helped, so I don’t have to wait.
I’m going to brush off my shoulders and try to bury my cock in some foreign pussy while wiping my mind clean of everything EllafuckingSlade.
Here’s to dusting off the heartache and doing Danger’s version of eat, pray, and fucking whatever I can.
Chapter Three
DANGER
It’s been three months since starting on my trip of a lifetime.
When I arrived in Australia, the first thing I did was change my image. I am known for my dark curls, but I wanted something different. I needed something edgier. So I had the sides shaved short, and the top remained longer, slicked back into a wave. Add a leather jacket, and I’m hardcore rocker material—the new me.
I’ve traveled all over Australia, doing the touristy thing. I started in Sydney, then Melbourne, and now, I’m in Adelaide, trying to get my head into a better space and my body working again. So far, though, I find myself visiting bars and strip clubs. I aim to visit all the best strip clubs in Australia, forcing myself back into the swing of things.
My attempt at burying my cock in foreign pussy has failed.
For some reason, my cock isn’t working.
I can’t seem to bring myself to follow through, or if I get close, I can’t get it up.
That’s why I’m positive looking at naked women will help my cock rise to the occasion again.
