Beneath the Stain - Part 3 by Amy Lane Read Free Book Online Page B

super-nice hotel stay in rehab. Yeah, I did all the fuckin’ drugs, and I’m not saying I didn’t. But I did the pills to calm me down and the coke to wake me up and the booze because it made that other shit work better. I don’t got no patience for a guy who doesn’t work to pull his own weight.”
    Blake sniffled a little and ran a hand under his eyes. “Man, all I wanted to do was play the damned guitar.”
    Mackey sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Well, you do a good job of it when you’re not stoned. And Kell seems to like you just fine. I’m not planning on firing you, coke or no coke, so maybe just fucking relax.”
    “But why don’t you like me?” Blake asked, sounding pathetic. “I swear, I was so excited to work with you—man, I’d been playing your single for months , do you know that? I landed that audition and I was like, ‘No. Way. Outbreak Monkey wants me !’ And then I met you all, and Kell and Jeff and Stevie, they liked me fine, but you—the guy with all the ideas—you only talk to me when we’re recording, and I’m stuck not knowing what I done. Man, I bought you the drugs so you’d fucking like me, do you get that?”
    Mackey made a puppy-dog sound and then sat down on the floor next to the coffee table and wrapped his arms around his knees. “Well, sorry,” he said frankly. “But you were Kell’s. Kell fuckin’ loved you, and there you go.”
    Blake sank shakily into the chair behind him. “But why couldn’t you love me, Mackey? Man, what was so wrong with me that I had to be the brother you liked least?”
    God, Mackey’s ass hurt like this. His ass hurt and his heart hurt, and he’d been a dick to this guy for a year, and it turned out he just wanted to be friends. Mackey sighed and stood up.
    “It wasn’t your fault,” he said, not wanting to tell Blake why he’d never be good enough to play second lead guitarist. “You just took over for the wrong guy. Can I go now?”
    Doc Cambridge looked at his watch in surprise. “Yes, yes, of course. You all have an hour before dinner!”
    Mackey bit his lip and walked away. He walked straight to his room, packed his suitcases, and then walked straight outside, calling for a cab while he went. He remembered to use his own card this time so he didn’t charge the record company for fare. This so obviously wasn’t their fault.

Communication Breakdown
     
     
    “T RAV ?” K ELL knocked on the door to his room/office. “There’s somebody here to see you.”
    Trav looked up and smiled. In the four days since they’d moved, everyone else in the little band seemed to have settled down and actually appreciated the change. Stevie, Jefferson, and Shelia spent their time decorating and ordering new furniture not just for their room—the room with the really big bed, which confirmed every suspicion Trav ever had. For some reason that calmed him down about the three of them. Just knowing they were in a threesome (Trav assumed Shelia was the middle of the cookie sandwich, given how Kell felt about “fags” and “weakness” and how much Stevie and Jefferson seemed unaffected by all of that) and were totally low-key about it made it easier to manage. So far the press hadn’t asked, which meant whatever magic Jefferson and Stevie had that made people not notice them, it was powerful hoodoo. Trav was starting to be a believer.
    Kell, on the other hand, had been… different.
    Without Blake to impress or Mackey to be at odds with, Kell had turned into—well, the perfect son was the only way Trav could describe it.
    He asked if people needed help, he did the dishes, he didn’t even ask about getting high, and Trav hadn’t seen a girl in his bedroom in a week. If Trav had been in an uncharitable frame of mind, he would have said Kell just didn’t know how to get from downtown to his own house, but he knew that wasn’t true because he’d been out with the others and had come back just fine.
    The well-dressed, cleaned-up