I open my mouth to say something, but my manager makes a slashing motion with his hand.
“It’s being handled,” Francis says dismissively. “He just partied a little too hard. You know how these rockstars are. It’s like wrangling preschoolers. While you’re focused on cleaning up after one, another decides to eat all the glue sticks.”
The fucker laughs.Laughs.I can’t believe he’s trying to make light of the situation, as if what happened was a minor incident.
The heart monitor begins to beat frantically, finally turning the attention to me. My face heats with rage, and I try to jump out of bed to confront him.
“That’s bullshit!” I yell weakly, wanting nothing more than to get out of this bed and punch that smarmy liar in the face, but I get tangled in the sheets and wires. The adhesive stickers on my chest are so strong, I’m almost pulling off skin.
My outburst probably does little to disprove Francis’ opinion that I’m the immature, over-emotional child he treats me like.
Mr. Holland quickly rushes over and settles me before I can fall on my face. “Whoa there, Mr. Silvan. It’ll be alright.”
I almost balk at his formal tone and use of my last name, but I let him steady me. My hands land on his arms as he helps me untangle the sheets, then guides me gently by the waist to sit down.Damn, he’s tall.At least as tall as Jesse, if not a little taller. But his chest and shoulders are broader, like Will.
As if conjured by my thoughts, my brother walks into the room, eyes immediately landing on Mr. Holland in my space.
“Who the fuck are you?!” Will demands, taking long strides to get to my side, putting down a drink carrier and paper bag to all but push Mr. Holland aside and take his rightful place by my side.
Mr. Holland steps aside easily, letting Will take over helping me back into bed like I’m some kind of invalid. His eyes roam over every inch of me, a deep crease forming between his brows as he checks me for injuries or fingerprints where the stranger might have touched me.
I almost roll my eyes. “I’m fine,” I assure him. The look he gives me sayslike hell you arebefore he turns an expectant scowl on Mr. Holland.
“Blake Holland,” the man says, holding his hand out. Will takes it begrudgingly, clearly not trusting the handsome stranger. “I’m here on behalf of the label. They sent me to check on Mr. Silvan and Mr. Moore’s welfare, as well as assess the damage of the situation.”
“I assure you, Mr. Holland?—”
Mr. Holland lifts a hand to Francis. “Now isn’t the time.”
Francis tries to open his stupid mouth again, but I cut him off before he can start on more of his bullshit. “This is your fault,” I seethe.
His beady eyes bulge. “How is it my fault that you and Jesse decided to go on a bender while I was cleaning up the mess you made getting photographed taking a blow-up doll dressed like the Vice President to a furniture store?!”
“No one was on a bender, and you know it.”
“Then explain to me how my frontman ended up having a seizure, face down in a pool of his own vomit and broken glass?”
“I don’t know, Francis. Why don’tyouexplain all the prescription bottles you pocketed before emergency services arrived?”
“I also wiped away the evidence of cocaine on the bar top. It’s called optics, Mr. Silvan,” he says, his tone condescending as ever.
“You care more about optics than you care aboutyourfrontman almost dying. Did you even tell the doctors all the medications he’s taking? Or were you too concerned about theopticsof where Jesse got all those drugs?”
I’m so angry I want to scream, but I feel a wave of vertigo.
“Jesse could have died,” I choke out, refusing to lose my opportunity to tell Francis exactly what I think of him. “You… fucking… scumbag,” I wheeze, my breaths short.
The heart monitor starts beeping more frantically than before, and my vision blurs.
No no no, not again.
I’m trying to calm down, but I can’t seem to pull in a full breath. The familiar pressure assaults my chest, a fist squeezing tight. My organs don’t have enough room. It feels like my lungs are trying to escape through my esophagus.
It’s cold, but I’m sweating. My fingertips and lips feel numb.
Will is in my face in an instant, his big hands cupping my cheeks.
“Ari? Ari! You’re okay. I’m here. Just breathe.”
