Big J was shaking his head. “Says they start this week in Vancouver, finish in L.A.. Not comin’ near here.” He handed me the phone and Itookit.
Whatthefuck.
I did my best to look totally unmoved as I scrolled through the article, my heart battering in my chest. But I couldn’t fuckingbelieveit.
At the top, there was a photo of Dirty, obviously recent. It was Zane, Elle, Jesse and Dylan. And yeah, Elle looked gorgeous. Asalways.
No Jessa in the picture,though.
I knew they’d asked Jessa to join the lineup, before they asked me. I knew she’d been writing with the band. I’d assumed she was filling the role, permanently, and I could live with that. It madesense.
But a fucking open audition? A documentary series? What were they, desperate orsomething?
Or was this some kind of publicitystunt?
If it was, kind of felt like it was tailor-made toslayme.
I’d accepted being asked to leave. Again. At least, I’d swallowed it as well as I could. I could step back and wish them well and not begrudge them a thing—mostly—if what they truly wanted was Paulie or Jessa or Ash insteadofme.
But some random stranger, some nobody joiningDirty?
If it was wide-fucking-open, anyone had a shot at it.Anyone.
Even ToddBecker.
And that got methinking…
Last time, I didn’t fight for it when I had the chance; when Jessa gave me that chance. And that shit had been eating me raw for the last six months. I’d lost weight, lost sleep, lost a big fucking heap of self-respect. And I knew it, suddenly, with my nextbreath.
This was my lastchance.
Third time’s a fuckin’charm.
Maybe it was a chance I didn’t deserve, but if that guitarist position was still open, it could stillbemine.
The way I saw it, Dirty had been playing my songs, without me, for far toofuckinglong.
They’d also been my family during some of the best—and worst—years of my life, and that kind of thing wasn’t shrugged off so easily when you were an orphan. I knew I’d fucked them over, thanks to my addiction, but Dirty was and always would be my familyandmyband.
I knew they’d wanted me back, too, before Jessa told them whatever she told themaboutme.
That I was a fucking rapist,apparently.
I stood up, so suddenly my barstool tipped over and crashed to the floor. I tossed some bills on the bar, picked up my guitar case and headed forthedoor.
“Where you goin’?” Big Jasked.
“Vancouver,”Isaid.
“You know that’s in Canada, right?” Mark calledafterme.
I didn’tanswer.
“Hey, asshole. You got a passport?” That wasDavey.
I didn’t answer thateither.
“You got two fuckin’ dollars to rub together?” Trent shouted, amusement in his voice. “You know, case yougetcold?”
