Page 109

“That photo was confirmation for me why Tristan snagged the guitarist. I didn’t want to believe it when that bomb dropped and mourned for at least a week, but when I saw the first snapshot of the two together … Aw—I just melted!”

“The paparazzi really went all out before the start of the tour to get them in front of the camera together.”

“On social media, Tristan’s declaration of love during the concert went viral and racked up three million views in just one day. Do you think that was planned to distract people from the bad headlines?”

“I don’t think so. The guys aren’t that calculating. They just want to make music. And I’m so happy for them that they’ve overcome this difficult time and can finally go on tour.”

“Oh yeah, me too! That’s why we’re diving into another track by Nightstalker right now. Here’s their new single, ‘Infected.’ Enjoy!

“Oh, and before I move on, Clint has a special treat for us. He’s brought three books by Tristan M. James titled THE STILL STARS OF THE HEAVENLY SPHERES. You could be the lucky winner! Stay tuned to find out how you can get your hands on them after the song. So… stay tuned!”

43

–––––

The Still Stars

Leaf adjusted the last knob and tightened the string until the needle on the tuner pointed straight up. He then unplugged the cable from the device, plugged it into the small amp on the floor, and started playing—just loud enough for him to hear.

The booming sound of the opening act flowed in from the stage, while over at the drink table, Andrej and José were goofing around, teasing Carol, who was trying to have a conversation on the phone. Leaf laughed at their childish antics. But when he noticed the guy with the camera pointing at him, he tilted his head and listened to the notes.

It felt good to know that his hands were doing what he demanded of them again. He had taken the guitar to the clinic, but during the first four weeks, it had been almost impossible for him to play. His hands trembled so much that frustration nearly overwhelmed him, almost prompting him to quit therapy.

Those were exhausting days. Once the cold turkey period was over and he was allowed to receive visitors again, Tristan visited him almost daily, despite the hour-and-a-half drive each way.

“Parker!” Andrej called from the drink table.

Leaf raised his head and glanced past the cameraman to Andrej, who was holding up a can of soda and a half-full glass of orange juice.

“Want some?” the bassist asked.

Leaf nodded, prompting Andrej to fill the glass with soda before joining him on the couch.

“Thanks,” Leaf said, enjoying the refreshing drink.

Since his return, all alcohol had been banned from the backstage area. Although his burning cigarette still lay in the ashtray, he would address that vice another time. When the cameraman turned away, Leaf picked up his cigarette and took a deep drag.

The guy had been lurking around them since the soundcheck. Carol had hired him to cut a video clip from the material. “Just ignore him,” she had casually advised.

That was easier said than done. After all, Leaf had spent the last three months delving into every little detail of his shitty life to get back on track. It had been tough, and the withdrawal was brutal. He had to remind himself over and over again that Tristan and the music were more important than the drugs. That everything was more important than the drugs. And that this was the last rehab he wanted to go through.

“How can you ignore the camera so easily?” he asked Andrej, who was sitting next to him with his legs spread wide.

“No idea,” he said, laughing as he set the glass on the table and reached for his bass. “I guess I just like being in the spotlight.”

Leaf shook his head with a smile. “You really have no problem with that. Admirable.”

“Oh, come on, Parker. It’s easy for you, too—which, honestly, I’m glad about. I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to go on stage without drugs.”

“You seem to have forgotten I was clean on the first tour.”

“Almost clean,” the bassist corrected him with a broad grin. “No, seriously, I haven’t forgotten. But the thing with Milo … wow. I’m glad you got your shit together again. It would’ve sucked if we had to get Iggy. Sorry, I was so … I don’t know, freaked out.”

“It’s cool. I get it. I was so damn close to the edge. I don’t want to go there again.”

“I’ve got your back. You know that, right?”

Leaf nodded curtly and took one last drag of the cigarette before stubbing it out in the ashtray.