On the Road: (Vagabonds Book 2) (New Adult Rock Star Romance) by Jade C. Jamison Page B

moved up to harder drugs but I was afraid to ask what…and I wondered if I should lecture her.  Should I talk to her?  Talk to her mom?  Tell her she was walking down a dangerous path?
    I considered it but continued to stand back in the meantime because I didn’t know that I was the right person to lecture.  After all, I was still feeling my way around my tentative step into adulthood too, and I was experimenting just like she was.  Sure, I was dealing with milder forms of mind-altering substances, but I was using them nonetheless.  I had no issues with cigarettes, pot, alcohol, and other drugs that I considered “mild.”  I wasn’t so concerned with them being habit forming, because I figured that could be dealt with in time.  No, I was far more worried about the danger.  After all, how many of my favorite rock stars had died of drug overdoses?  Hmm…let’s see.  We had Jimi Hendrix.  He was a confirmed OD.  Same with Robbin Crosby.  Or maybe they were complications with drugs.  And then there was Kurt Cobain.  He didn’t die of a drug overdose, but it was no secret that he’d struggled with addiction—and maybe that had driven him to take his own life.  The only person not on my drug problem list of heroes was Randy Rhoads—he’d died in a plane crash.  But, aside from the guitarists I worshipped, there were plenty of other rock stars who’d died of drugs.  That was why that old saying—sex, drugs, and rock and roll—was always thrown about.  It was a saying for a reason.  The music and drugs went together so well, and I wasn’t sure if it was because drugs seemed to fuel the creative spirit or if, being musicians, there was plenty of time and less responsibility that allowed those people to do more drugs than other folks.  The sex…well, that just followed easily, because if you’re rocking out and feeling high, sex seems like a natural.
    Besides, there’s nothing sexier than a fucking rock star doing his thing onstage.
    So my only bandmate who seemed to keep to herself and try not to stir up trouble was Kelly.  In fact, what I loved about the girl was that she always had a smile on her face.  Nothing ever seemed to get her down.  When I was feeling bad about something, Kelly was the go-to person, because she could always cheer me up.
    She always had a kind word to say too.  So after we shut off the lights that night and I started dozing off, I heard Barbie and Liz getting hot and heavy.  Vicki snarled, “God, you guys.  Give it a rest, would ya?”
    “Fuck you, you jealous bitch.”  I doubted Barbie had even taken her lips off Liz before muttering it.
    Less than a minute later, Kelly said, “Gosh, guys, I still have to pinch myself sometimes.  I can hardly believe this is happening.”
    I smiled—thanks to Kelly—but I kept my mouth shut.  I could believe it.  I’d earned it, and there would be no stopping me now.

 
     
     
    Chapter Eight
     
     
    WELL, THAT HAD been short lived.  By the time we were in New England, Barbie and Liz were through.  But I got the feeling that Barbie was going to consider trying to sleep her way through the rest of us.  Kelly, for example?  I knew the two of them had gotten a little hot and heavy on occasion, especially when Kelly had been drinking…but I got the feeling Kelly wasn’t too happy about it.
    It was no secret that Barbie hated my guts.  Well, maybe hated is too strong a word.  She was no Kyle fan, and she began to dislike me more and more the longer we were on tour.  The main reason, I think, is because I got tired of her fucking around all the time.  I had nothing against playing but when it interfered with work, I took issue with it.  Work first and work hard—then fuck around if you must.  Maybe I was a little vocal about it and she didn’t care for that.  Well, too damn bad.  So, if she’d tried to get cozy with me, she would have stopped herself.  The only kind of fucking she’d want to do with me