Dear Tabitha by Trudy Stiles Read Free Book Online Page A

cramped sleeping quarters last night really did a number on me.
    I walk over to my bunk and stash my gadgets just as Tristan emerges from the shower. “Hey, bud, heard Stacy spent the night last night.” His grin is enormous and I want to punch him.
    I look over to Dax who just shrugs his shoulders.
    I shake my head and walk past him toward the lounge as Tristan chuckles. I’m really trying to keep my composure, but I’m fed up with all of these accusations and innuendos. I get it. My situation looked compromising. Fuck.
    I grab my bottle of whiskey, slug back a few shots, feeling the warmth of the booze over my lips, swipe my hand across my mouth, and leave the bus. I’m done with this conversation and all of this shit surrounding Stacy. The opening acts should be finished, and we need to be on stage in a few minutes.
    I take a few more swigs of whiskey and enter the stage area. Dax, Garrett, and Tristan are a few minutes behind me.
    Dax catches up to me, looking concerned. “Alex, don’t you think you should slow down with that stuff? Our set is over an hour and a half tonight, and I’m afraid you’re not going to be able to make it through.”
    “Fuck off,” I reply and grab my guitar from my tech, Josh. I don’t need a lecture from him or anyone.
    Throughout the entire set, I’m woozy and a bit out of it, but I make it through. I’m just not feeling it tonight. I want to get the hell out of here. I don’t address the crowd after the last song and just stalk off the stage. Stacy is nowhere around, and I’m relieved. I walk through the backstage area to the exit. I need to get out of here and be alone.
    The warm air hits me in the face, but I welcome it this time. I need to feel something, because right now, I’m numb. I finish off what’s left of the bottle of Jameson as I walk back to the bus.
    “Great show tonight, douchebag!”
    I turn around and see a group of fans near the exit. Did I just get heckled? What the fuck? I am in no mood for this shit, and these fuckers just pushed me over the edge.
    “What did you just say to me?” I realize I’m slurring and drunker than I thought.
    “Oooh, the brooding lead singer is having a bad night? No one to go home to?” One of the fans continues the bullshit.
    I toss my bottle toward a garbage bin and miss. Glass shatters all over the pavement.
    I’m going to pummel this fucker. I rush toward him, swinging my fist at his head. He ducks, and I miss and fall to the ground.
    “Loser!” the douchebag yells and I notice that a crowd is now gathering. I push myself up and lunge for him again. I’m not going to miss this time.
    My fist connects with his ribs, and he buckles around my arm. I’m suddenly pulled away from him and I hear Garrett’s voice.
    “C’mon, Alex. You’re done here.” He pulls me toward the bus as three security guards address the crowd.
    I can see the guy that I punched being ushered out of the backstage area with his friends. He’s yelling something, but I can’t hear him.
    I push away from Garrett. “Let me go,” I grunt.
    He releases me and I stumble toward the bus.
    “Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you? You’re lucky that guy is drunker than you are and probably won’t even remember what just happened. Jesus, Alex, you’re out of control.” Garrett is concerned and shakes his head.
    I leave him standing in the parking lot and enter the bus. Our driver, Mick, is asleep in the front lounge, and I walk past him to go to the bathroom. Garrett doesn’t follow me. I’m glad. I don’t want to have another blow out conversation with anyone right now.
    I strip off my clothes and turn the water in the shower to hot. The stream of scalding water washes over me. Man, I have got to get my shit together. I just attacked someone. Granted, it was provoked, but fuck, what is going on with me? I punch my right fist into the wall of the shower and press my forehead against the tiles. This isn’t me. This isn’t who I want to