The Revolution (30 page)

Walking backward, I shrug. “What can I say? I’ve got feelings for the woman.”

“Fuck,” Derrick replies just as Tommy walks by. Derrick grabs him by the neck. “Come out with me. You’re not fuckin’ ball and chainin’ it up yet, are you?”

“Not yet, but I’m not going out with you. I’m tired.”

“C’mon guys.”

Jimmy, one of the roadies, says, “I’ll go.”

“Fuck, man. I’ll take whatever I can get.”

“Never mind,” Jimmy says and walks off.

Tommy and I laugh at Derrick. We turn and go to the dressing room. Taking a seat on the opposite end to Dex, I settle in for our usual after-gig wrap-up. Dex is banging his sticks on the arm of the couch. Johnny tosses his tee that’s been ripped from fans and grabs a clean shirt from a hanger when he says, “Good show.” He glances at me. “What do you think?”

I look behind me and then realize he’s asking my opinion. Wow, this is new. “It was good. We missed the bass kick in during the encore and one of the left amps blew during
Beautiful Deathly
.”

Dex stops his drumming and stares at me. “Awe, our little boy is all grown up.”

Johnny stands there with his arms crossed over his chest and nods. “Holy shit, you’re like a real member of this band now.” Sticking out his hand, he says, “Welcome to
The Resistance
.”

I shake it, but I also roll my eyes and laugh at my expense. “What the fuck ever. I won’t mention shit next time.”

“You’re supposed to so it doesn’t happen again,” Johnny says, laying down the law. He grabs a bottle of water, downs half of it, and then looks right at me. “You did good, Fabian.”

Here’s the thing. When one of the greatest singers and musicians of our time gives you a compliment, you take it. He doesn’t dole them out freely and he’s not one for idle chitchat. He says what he means and getting his respect is not easy. I’ve done several things in my life that I’m proud of: played piano for kings and queens, performed in front of sold-out shows before I was fourteen, got hired to join one of the greatest rock bands that ever existed, and now earned Johnny Outlaw’s respect. Yep, it ranks right up there for me. “Thanks, man.”

Dex stands, tucks his sticks in the back of his jeans, and holds his hand out to me. “You did good. ’Bout time.”

When I shake his, Derrick pipes in. “What about me?”

Dex laughs. “You’re lazy as fuck. A damn good bassist, but lazy. Now fix the bass kick in. I never heard it either.”

As the teasing continues, I check my phone, wondering why I haven’t heard back from Lara. The guys go about their business, but Tommy yells, “Pack your shit and get on the bus. We hit the road in thirty.”

“How long is the drive?” Derrick asks.

“Four or five hours. You’ll get to the hotel around three, but sound check isn’t until five, so you’ll be able to get some sleep.”

I grab my jacket from the couch and walk to the door with my phone in hand. Looking back, I ask, “Is security in place? I want to go to the bus.” I want to find somewhere quiet I can call her again.

Tommy answers, “They’re outside the door. Take two with you. The crowds are huge out back. We’ll wait until they return.”

Nodding, I open the door and make eye contact with a guy twice my weight with a good five inches on me. I’m not a small guy, but this guy is a monster. When I start walking, he and another guy flank my sides. I hate this part. The attention sucks. Everyone stares. Everyone. Most are looking for Johnny or Dex, some for Derrick. I’ve got my fair share of fans and more attention than I care for or ever need. I’m called sexy, hot. My name is shouted like a thunderstorms heartbeat—throbbing all around, a pulse that puts your body on alert. They shout things at me—
number-one fan, pick me, fuck me, take me home.
It gets vulgar from there.

My phone vibrates just as we reach the doors. The double doors are swung open and I’m squeezed between the bodyguards—one in front, one in back. I keep my head down, watching their steps as they lead me to the bus. The phone buzzes again, but I can’t answer until I’m on the bus. Lara’s pretty face graces the screen.

I push forward and take the steps by two. The bus door closes tight behind me and I rush to the back, pressing the answer button as I walk. “Hey.”

She doesn’t respond.

“Lara, can you hear me?”

Nothing.
Fuck.

I call her right back, but am sent right to voicemail.
Shit.
I scroll contacts and call Rochelle. She answers on the second ring. “Hey, it’s Kaz.”

“Hey,” she shouts.

“Damn.” I hold the phone away from my ear. Bar. She’s out. But is she out with Lara? “Is Lara with you?”

“Yes. She’s in the bathroom.”

“Can you tell her to call me right away?”

“Sure.” Just before I hang up, she says, “Shit.”

“Ro?”

“I should have checked on her. I think she’s been gone a while.

“What do you mean a while? How long?”

“Let me call you back.”

“No, Rochelle. Don’t hang—” Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I immediately call Lara again.

“Hi,” she answers. The background is quiet and she sounds normal.
Too normal.

“Where are you?”

“Home.”

“Home?” I ask, baffled. “Aren’t you supposed to be with Rochelle and Holli?” There’s a pause that drags. “Where are you?”

“Home, Kaz. I’m home.” Her voice trembles on home.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’ll call you soon.”

“Soon? What is going on?”

“I’m tired,” she says. “I’m going to bed. We’ll talk tomorrow. Okay? Later gator.”

Later gator?
Something’s wrong. “You’re home, right?”

“Don’t worry about me. Later gator.”

No goodbye…
“Later gator.”

We hang up and I call Rochelle back. “Kaz, I can’t find her. She’s gone.”

“Find her right now. Go to her home. I’m calling nine-one-one.”

“What’s happening?”

“I don’t know but I could tell she was trying to get me off that call. I think that sick fuck is there.”

Rochelle sounds out of breath and the noise from the bar is going in and out of the background. “Holli and I will go right over. Do you think she’ll be there?”

“I don’t know. She kept saying she was there. You’ve got to get over there as fast as you can. I’ll call the police.”

“Kaz?”

“What?”

“Her purse is still with us. I thought she was going to the bathroom. Are you sure she’s at home?”

“No. I’m not.” I admit the thing I was trying to avoid, feeling sicker by the second. “I’m across the country, Ro. I can’t help her. I can’t save her. I can’t even fucking protect her from here. You’ve got to find her.”

“We will. I’m sure she just went home. Didn’t want to deal with the crowds here. The place is packed.”

“How would she get home without her purse?”

She can’t answer that, so she says, “We’re catching a cab now.”

“Call me back.”

“I will.”

The call only rings once. “Nine-one-one. What’s the emergency?”

“I need the police. I think my girlfriend has been kidnapped.”

“Sir, slow down. How long has she been missing?”

“I don’t know. Twenty, thirty minutes. She was with her friends at a club. She went to the bathroom and never returned. Her purse was left behind.”

“I’ll need more information to move this case forward.”

“I don’t have to wait?” My fear.

“Not in California. Some departments may choose to wait twenty-four hours, but you can file if you want to go down to the department.”

“I can’t. I’m in Georgia right now.”

“Okay, can you answer a few questions for me?”

“Yes.”

“When did you last speak to the missing person?”

“Maybe ten minutes or fifteen minutes ago.”

“Sirrr,” this time the operator sounds sympathetic, but I can tell this isn’t going to go anywhere. “Do you know it’s illegal to file a false report?”

I hate the way my fear turns to panic. It summons memories I had successfully buried. “It’s her ex. He’s hurt her. I’m afraid he’s got her right now, taken her against her will.”

“And why do think that if you just spoke to her?”

“She left her friends at the club. She left her purse there. How’d she get home? And she said ‘Later gator’ to me. She never says that.”

“Later gator? That’s not compounding evidence even added together. Sir, if you want to file a report you will need to go to a local police station. I can’t file a missing report or send police to a home when you just spoke to the missing person or because they used a term she doesn’t normally say.”

“Please.”

“Sir, would she have gone home with someone she met, someone you’re not familiar with, or someone she didn’t want you to know about?”

Now my frustration turns to anger. “She wouldn’t cheat on me if that’s what you’re implying.”

“We have other calls, emergencies that need immediate attention. I’m sorry, sir. Please file a report at your local department for further assistance.”

I’m hung up on.

I want to throw my fucking phone, but I can’t because I need to call Lara and Rochelle. I try Lara, but get voicemail. Next is Rochelle. When she answers, I ask, “Are you there?”

“Not yet. I tried her phone, but she didn’t answer.”

“I’m telling you. I know something is wrong.”

“Calm down, Kaz. We’ll be there soon. Try to breathe. It may all be a misunderstanding.”

“A misunderstanding that she took off and not only didn’t tell you but left her purse?”

“I’m freaking out too, Kaz. Please just wait until I call you back to freak out. Okay?”

“Sorry.”

“You don’t have to be. I’m nervous like you, but I’m trying to stay calm.”

“Call me back.”

“I will.”

The bus door opens at the front and the screaming infiltrates the quiet that was occupying the space. All four of the guys load on. The door shuts and Dex and Derrick flip onto the couch. Tommy tells the driver to take off. Johnny leans against the wall and looks at me. “What’s up?”

There’s a good possibility I could be freaking out for nothing. I hope that’s the case. But I don’t want to lay it on the guys without having more information. I stand and brush past him and climb onto a bunk. “Nothing.”

“Okay,” he replies. I know he won’t delve into it. He’s good at giving others their privacy.

Dex on the other hand… “Why is Rochelle upset?”

I poke my head out and his glare hits me. “Just give her a few. She’s checking on Lara.”

Johnny asks, “With Holliday?”

Nodding, I lie my head back down and close my eyes. I know he’s not going to let it go when it involves her, but I’m about to lose my shit, and can’t deal with his concern right now. “Call her. She’s okay.”

“She fucking better be.” He takes his phone and calls her. “You okay?” While she talks to him, I wait with my phone in my hand.

When it rings, I sit up and hit my head. “Fuck.” I manage to still answer it but I’m going to have a knot on my head. “Are you there?”

Rochelle says, “She’s not here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. There are no sounds coming from inside and from the windows no lights are on. What do we do?”

“I don’t know. I feel so helpless.”

“Did you call the police?”

“Yes, after they practically laughed at me, they hung up.” I stand up and pass the guys, and step down a step at the door. The world is moving at least sixty miles an hour outside and I have no fucking clue what to do. “Tell me what to do, Rochelle? I’ll do it. I’ll fly back.”

“No. Don’t worry yet. We’ll find her. Get some rest. You’ll need it for tomorrow night.”

“I can’t sleep. Not knowing, I can’t.”

“Unfortunately, I think you’ll have to.”

I can’t lose her. She’s my air. My sun. My light. I can’t lose her.