Between Us (The Renegade Saints #3) (4 page)

“We gotta call it a day,” Gavin announced. “I have to get dressed to take Bree out for her birthday dinner. We should be at Flynn’s for cake and ice cream around nine.”

Gavin’s little sister, Gabrielle, was like a little sister to all of us. The only reason we didn’t go to her birthday dinners was because their parents could show up. Granted, they had a thirty percent chance of being there, but it was enough for us all to steer clear. We didn’t stay away for ourselves, though. We stayed away because it mortified Gavin and Bree, which wasn’t okay.

If you looked on Wikipedia for asshole parents, you’d find the Wildes. Mrs. Wilde was a straight-up slut, no apologies about it. She fucked anyone who stayed still long enough for her to mount, and for some fucking reason, her husband put up with it. It embarrassed the fuck out of Gavin and Bree whenever their mom was around us because she’d inevitably try getting sexual with me, Flynn, or Ty. Between the three of us, we’d spent a ridiculous amount of time shoving Allison Wilde off of our laps. All this would happen while Joe Wilde sat there, turning a blind eye to her behavior. It was bizarre.

“We’ll be there,” I responded. “Gram’s bringing her famous chocolate layer cake so don’t fuck off and come late or I’ll eat it.”

“You probably would eat the damn cake before the birthday girl ever arrived,” Gavin laughed. “You’ve got serious chocolate problems, my friend.”

I answered by way of my middle finger. After Gavin left, the rest of us spent a few minutes packing up our gear and straightening the living room of Ty’s guesthouse. Once we were finished, we all went our separate ways, agreeing to meet up at Flynn’s about an hour before Gavin and Bree were supposed to arrive.

Since Flynn and I lived in the same development, I walked to his house. I’d had twenty yellow roses delivered to Bree earlier in the day and I had her birthday gift tucked under one arm. Gram had helped me pick out what she declared was the perfect Louis Vuitton purse. I knew Bree would love it. She always loved everything any of us got her, which was good since we tended to spoil her. She’d been in junior high when we hit it big, and it had killed Gavin to leave her behind. Hell, it fucked with all of us. We knew what we were leaving her with, and it wasn’t ideal. The only thing that made it even somewhat bearable was knowing that my parents, Todd and Gram were on top of it—they loved Bree like their own and made sure she was safe and had the things she needed.

As I rounded the corner to Flynn’s house, I frowned when I saw the electric gate at the bottom of the driveway open. We all took security seriously, and him just leaving his shit unsecured was not the norm. I picked up my pace, then slowed down when I saw his Escalade come flying down the driveway. His tires screeched as he came to a halt next to me.

Swinging the door open I said, “What the fuck—”

“Get in,” he barked tersely.

I knew right away something was wrong, and my hands started shaking. Was something wrong with my parents? His dad? Gram and Pop? Ty? Shit! Was he using again?

I hastily climbed into the car, panicked out of my fucking mind. The only people I wasn’t worried about right then were Gavin and Bree, because I knew they were at dinner.

“What’s wrong?”

“Allison died this afternoon,” he answered. His hands were clenched around the steering wheel as he drove us quickly out of our development.

My initial feeling was relief it wasn’t someone I cared about. I wanted to be with Gavin and Bree, but I wasn’t devastated or anything. Before I could say anything, Flynn continued.

“Joe called Gavin and Bree while they were at dinner and told them. I guess Allison’s body was found in a hotel room with some fuckwad who lived, but barely. They’d OD’d on God only knows what. Gav and Bree left the restaurant right away, but by the time they got to the house, it was too late. They found him in his bedroom. Joe fucking ate a bullet and left his kids a note saying he didn’t have anything to live for without Allison. On his daughter’s fucking birthday,” Flynn spat angrily.

The air left my lungs in a whoosh. Gavin and Bree had been dealing with their fucked-up parents for years, but this was so far beyond the pale, there were literally no words.

This, I thought, was another reason I was never going to be in a one-on-one relationship. I knew two sets of people it worked for—my parents and Flynn’s grandparents. But even with them as my examples, I always wondered. Would my mom fall apart if my dad died, and vice versa? The same question applied to Gram and Pop. They were rarely apart. If something happened, could one survive without the other? I’d never forgotten the way Todd had lost his shit after Rachel died.

In my opinion, relationships weren’t worth the fucking risk. There was no one on earth, male or female, who would ever make me change my mind.

I
’m twenty-nine years old and retiring. Well, sort of. No one will be giving me a gold watch, and I’m not going to be at home taking care of my flowerbeds or anything. But still—the first part of my career is definitively coming to a close sooner rather than later. It isn’t a bad thing. Even though it isn’t happening without some sadness, it’s time.

After slightly more than a decade of rocking, we all concluded recording and the endless and insane touring that goes along with it, isn’t for us anymore. Our shared dream of creating music for the masses and rocking arenas around the world has come true a thousand times over—hell, ten thousand times over. But somewhere along the way it all became something unfulfilling, an obligation as opposed to an adventure.

When we were just starting out, each of us dreamt of a day thousands of fans would love our music. Those dreams didn’t just come true—they were completely smashed, and then some. Instead of thousands, we’re idolized by millions. It was unbelievably cool for the first few years. Beyond our wildest expectations or anything we’d dared to hope for.

But for every up, there’s a down, a lesson we had learned all too well. Inevitably, shit started going down. Way down. For all intents and purposes, we were still kids when we hit it big. I’m not certain the adult version of ourselves could’ve fared much better, but the young punk versions all imploded. We went from curfews to coke parties in the blink of an eye, and shit went sour from there.

The fallout is on us, one hundred percent. We’re grateful to every fan we have because without a doubt, they changed our lives for the better. It was never about the fans—the problem has always been the excess tied to fame. Hell, we didn’t embrace it—we ran at it like fucking bulls in a china shop, each of us fucking shit up along the way. The further into it we got, the more disconnected we were with reality. We were lucky to find our way back from the edge, both separately and together. We’ve all agreed it’s time to cash in our chips and start the next chapter of our lives.

We’re taking the next step together. Flynn, Gavin, and Tyson have been my best friends and business partners for over a decade. I’ll never stop wanting to create with them. I think our collaboration is what I was born to do professionally, so staying together works for all of us.

Even though we’re “retiring,” it’s important for us to do as much as we can for the fans. They made us and we know it, so we’re going hardcore to give them back as much as we can. With them in mind, we decided to go out with a bang. By this, I mean a balls to the fucking wall tour, an autobiography and a documentary will all be part of the farewell package. We’ll be spending the next year giving it our all, one last time.

I’m down for it, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit a part of me is scared of what all this change will mean going forward. When it’s all over and the last note has been played in the stadium, I’m going to be stationary for the first time in my adult life. My fuck and roll style of living isn’t going to come as easily. On tour, it’s easy to hit it and quit it, but it’s going to be a hell of a lot harder to do once I’m off the road permanently. People will expect return phone calls and dates—and I’ve never been about those entanglements.

I’ve got some time to prepare for the change, so hopefully by then I’ll be ready for the adjustment. Until then, I’ve got business to attend to. Today’s the day our autobiography gets under way. Actually, it started yesterday with Gavin, Flynn and our manager, but today Tyson and I are meeting the biographer at a sushi restaurant. Flynn and Gavin both thought the biographer, Ian something or other, was cool, which is a plus. If we’re all going to be honest, the people we open up to need to be on point.

Tyson has a hard time talking about shit and we’re not sure how open he’s prepared to be this early on. I’m along with him today for moral support, and also to be an asshole if this Ian guy tries to dig where Tyson isn’t ready for the soil to be disturbed. This kind of “I’ve got your back” thing usually frustrates Ty, so him not giving me shit for being his back-up tells me he’s way more anxious about all this than he’s letting on.

I picked him up from his house right on time, and we’ve listened to a few demo CDs from bands we’re considering signing during the drive. We’ve already got one in the chamber, a band called The Chaps. We’re not really looking hard for band number two, but we don’t want to miss something great, so we’re keeping our ears open.

Ty and I haven’t spoken about the biography at all during the drive. I’m letting him take the lead and speak up if he wants to discuss it with me. Bottom line, he isn’t being forced into doing something he doesn’t want to do. When the idea of doing the autobiography and the documentary came up, he had been one of the first people to say it was a great idea. Flynn, Gavin and I all tried to shoot the biography in particular down, but Ty argued vociferously for it. Over time, he got Gavin on board, and eventually they wore Flynn and me down.

His rationale was that it’s our last chance for us to put things out on our own terms, instead of having more unauthorized bullshit go out. We’d dealt with that kind of thing for the last decade, and it had been nothing but lies and half-truths. Tyson says our legacy is now ours to shape, and we’ve only got one shot to do it right. Talking legacy is fucking weird, but he’s right. It’s weird to know that some day, long after I’m gone, our music will be played on oldies stations or some shit.