Fuckity fuck.
“I like Christy, by the way.”
Jake stopped twirling his sticks, jaw set. “I knew you would. So, what you gonna do about it?”
“You agree, Val?”
She nodded, like Killy knew she would.
Footsteps on the stage made Killy turn around. A young blond guy approached. Damn, but he looked good. Like a GQ model.
So not Killy’s type. “Who’re you?”
“Levi Krauss. My band’s on hiatus, so I agreed to fill in for tonight. Sorry I haven’t had a chance to practice with the band, but I know all your old material, and your manager said you lost your bass player at the last minute.”
Lost your bass player?
“Krauss. Who’re you with?” Jake asked.
“Crass Krauss.” His faced pinked. “You really don’t know me, do you? Your manager said you were fans.”
Their manager had picked a pretty boy and filled his head with lies. Where the hell was Gus? Killian charged offstage. Just wait until he found the man.
He found his soon-to-be-ex manager in the hallway.
“Hey, Killy. Did Levi make it?”
Killian backed Gus against the wall. “What did you do?”
“What do you mean? I got you a bass player’ll who’ll help you get a record deal.”
“I don’t give a flying fuck about a record deal. Where’s Mike?”
Gus stared down at the floor. “I didn’t want to tell you but… he… he left, Killy.” He brought his gaze up, bottom lip trembling. “He left this note at your house.”
“And you’re just now telling me?” Killy roared, not caring who heard.
Gus pulled a scrap of paper from his pocket and thrust it forward. “See?”
Killian grabbed the note and stepped from the dimly lit hallway into a bright dressing room and read:
Dear Killy,
I’m sorry to leave you like this, but I can’t take this anymore. It’s all too much, too soon. It’s for the best, you’ll see.
Texas
P.S. We’ll always have that night at The Stallion.
What the fuck? How could Mike do this after… The Stallion. The night at The Stallion. The night Mike declared an orgasm onstage.
At the bottom of the page he’d written:
“You taught me to sing like I’d never sung before.”
Words from the song Mike wrote for Killy. A love song. Mike loved him. Wouldn’t leave without talking things through—this Killy knew with his whole heart. He closed his eyes and took a leap of faith, to hell with consequences. “Gus, you’re fired.”
“What? You can’t do that after all I’ve done for you. We have a contract!”
