Page 34 of Dark Notes, Volume Two

“I’m sorry. This is all my fault. I didn’t know it’d be like this.”

Jagger clears his throat, commanding our attention as he speaks into the microphone.

“That was not meant to be part of the show. We’re going to get creative for the rest of the set.”

I try to pretend that my focus is on the stage by staring straight ahead, even swaying slightly, but I’m a liar. My mind is in Jett’s dressing room where he is no doubt, currently fucking Samantha.

10

Chapter Nineteen

JETT

“Samantha get the fuck out.”

She’s wearing a tiny school girl skirt with a white crop top looking every bit of the slut that she is. Smiling sweetly she says, “I can make you feel better.”

I roll my eyes, “You have two seconds to get out. I am not fucking interested in anything you have to offer.”

“Jett,” she whines with that irritating pout she does when she doesn’t get her way. It’s fucking annoying. I put up with it before because I wanted to fuck her, but now it has no affect on me other than annoyance.

“Samantha, I won’t tell you again. I do not want to fuck you. If you couldn’t tell from what happened onstage, I’m not in a good mood. I suggest you leave before you regret it.”

I sit up on the disgusting lime green sofa in my dressing room, ready to stand and physically remove her when Jake walks in glaring at her.

“Out. Now.”

With a huff and a ‘whatever,’ she finally leaves, and he closes the door behind him.

“Can I sit? Or are you going to attack me, too?”

I wave my hand toward the empty matching chair, telling him to sit. I’m not any happier about a lecture from our bassist, as I am from Jagger, but I may as well deal with the inevitable.

“Jett, you’re out of control. Do you want to die? That’s where you’re headed, you must know that.”

He sounds just like Jagger. Done with me. What they don’t realize is I’m also sick of myself.

I shrug and toss back my shot of whiskey, swallowing down the burn.

“I do know that. Do you know what nobody gets? I’m fucking tired, man. So goddamn tired. You guys all think I should want to live. Why? Tell me what I have to live for. Give me one fucking reason to continue existing.”

He’s quiet because he can’t come up with a single thing I have to live for. I knew that before I said it. There’s nothing left. I had music and for a little bit, Mia. Now, I have neither of those, so the little will I had to live is gone.

“Exactly. I’m not fucking suicidal. I’m not going to blow my brains out. If I OD, I’m okay with it. Just so you know, I’m getting a tattoo.”

He arches his eyebrow at my change of subject before leaning back in the chair as if he’s as exhausted from this conversation as I am.

“It’s a DNR tattoo, so if an ambulance is called, they’ll know not to resuscitate me.”

Jake runs his hand through his hair, his eyes filling with unshed tears. His expression reads like one mixed with anger and devastation.

“Do you ever think about anyone other than yourself? Ever consider the people you’re leaving behind to pick up the pieces?” He asks, his voice filled with emotion. I know it should affect me more than it does.

“If you cared about me, you wouldn’t wish for me to live. You know the shit I’ve been through. The demons that live permanently in my head. In my fucking soul.”

Running my hands through my hair, I pull at the strands so angry I want to yank it from the roots. I’d rather deal with the physical pain than this emotional bullshit.

“Why do any of you even care? Wash your hands of me and move the fuck on. We have three more shows, and then I’ll be out of your lives.”