Some Kind of Hell (21 page)

The crowd booed.

“That doesn’t mean there won’t be a show though,” Tripp said.

He lifted his guitar and smiled.

Tatum did the same and the two took seats right there on stage and started to play. They stared at each other and slowly worked into an impromptu rock concert... well, an acoustic rock concert.

And damn if it wasn’t amazing.

Not that I’d ever wish for anything bad to happen to Tripp or Tatum but I sort of hoped without Logan the band couldn’t function.

That theory was shattered as Tripp and Tatum played.

They were so good and so in sync, singing, playing, trading solos, laughing, and engaging the crowd. They took a terrible situation and made it quite amazing actually. It was the kind of show people would talk about for years. The show that would be brought up for the entire career of DownCrash.

At one point Tatum brought pieces of his drum set out and started to play drums with brushes while Tripp played guitar and sang.

The two of them commanded the crowd for almost two straight hours, playing any and all DownCrash songs and even started to take requests from the crowd for covers. They literally could play anything and it kind of became a game to try to challenge Tripp and Tatum on stage. The concert was more of a jam session... with a thousand friends there to laugh and cheer.

“There’s one last song we want to play,” Tripp said. “It’s new... and it was written by Logan. This is for him. For his heart.” Tripp’s eyes turned and looked at me. “For all he’s going through.”

Wow. Talk about a dagger to the heart.

The first time DownCrash played that song live I had to rush to the bathroom to throw up. That was the beginning of thinking about being pregnant. And then as I stood there listening to Logan’s beautiful song being played by just Tripp and Tatum, I wanted to throw up again.

How could have things gotten so bad so fast?

Tripp and Tatum traded solos, Tripp playing the parts Logan should have been playing. It hurt me each time Tripp played a note Logan had written for himself.

The dagger in my heart only twisted harder because, again, the song sounded amazing. Tripp and Tatum had saved the show that night... and had quite honestly saved DownCrash’s reputation.

All without Logan.

The world moved on without Logan there.

But what about me? I sure as hell couldn’t imagine not having Logan in my life.

~23~

I had nothing to say when the show ended. I went backstage only because I didn’t want to have to battle through the crowd out front and then walk around the building outside to get to my car.

When I saw Maggie talking to Tatum, rubbing his sweaty arms, telling him how good he was, something came to me.

What Maggie had said right before the show started...

“I’m sorry...”

What had she been apologizing for?

I wanted to believe she had been apologizing for what happened at the apartment. We both got snippy with each other. But watching her with Tatum made me wonder if she wasn’t apologizing for Logan. For Logan not being there. For the future of DownCrash and what would happen with Logan and the band. What would happen with me and Logan... and the band...

Maggie saw me and stood there, next to Tatum.

I felt like the third wheel enough that it made me choke up.

Everyone stared at me like I was some kind of disease.

“That was a good show,” I managed to say.

“We got lucky,” Tripp said. “Really fucking lucky.”

“We did good,” Tatum said. “Considering...”

“Yeah, considering,” Tripp said. “I’m considering a lot right now.”

“Tripp,” Scarlett growled at him. “Don’t.”

“No, I will,” Tripp said.

The tension seemed to reach a climax and when my phone vibrated, I hurried for it. I feared something terrible was going to happen. But when I saw a text message from Logan I realized that maybe something terrible had already happened.

“It’s from Logan,” I said as I read the text.

“What’s it say?” Maggie asked.

I read the message and gasped. I covered my mouth and read it again.

At the garage. I took care of it all. I really did.

I read the message out loud to everyone and Tripp was the first one to take action. The look in his eyes terrified me. And because it was Tripp who stormed out of the room first made it even worse. It meant Tripp thought Logan was going to hurt himself or possibly already had.

We all left in a hurry, avoiding as many people as we could. We ignored the people who worked at the club and we ignored the random people and fans outside yelling for Tripp, Tatum, and DownCrash. They must have looked like assholes ignoring their fans but there was potentially something worse waiting for all of us.

I followed right behind Tripp, matching his speed and wicked turns. The faster he drove, the worse I felt. I didn’t want to imagine finding Logan hurt (or worse...) but my mind kept messing with me.

What the hell did that text message mean?

I thought about the night before. How Logan and I were together. Holding each other, having sex, feeling somewhat normal. What had changed? What made him wake up and leave? Why didn’t he wake me? Why didn’t I hear or feel him leave the bed?

By the time we pulled into the gravel driveway, I was an emotional wreck.

The lights were on in the garage but that didn’t give me hope for a second.

I ran from the car, trying to keep up with Tripp and Tatum.

At the door, Tatum let Tripp go forward and then put his arms out, stopping Maggie, Scarlett, and myself. I fought but Tatum refused.

Just in case.

Those were his words.

Just in case.

I broke down in tears as Tripp opened the door.

“What the fuck?” he screamed and that was all I could take.

I slammed into Tatum, using my fist at his gut. He didn’t expect the move and it jarred him enough that I was able to get by him and into the garage.

I took two steps and froze, putting my hands to my mouth because I was certain I was going to lose it all. My stomach. My mind. My life.

Logan sat on the table near the wall with his feet dangling. His hands were gripped at the edge of the table, his right hand bleeding profusely. The blood dripped like a leaky faucet and he didn’t care.

In front of him, scattered on the floor were pieces of... everything.

“Logan, what did you do?” I asked.

He turned he head and smiled. It was the sickest smile I’d ever seen in my life.

“I took care of everything,” he said.

And in his mind, he did.

His bass was cracked in half, the neck one way, the body another way. The only reason the two pieces were still somewhat connected was because of the thick strings on the instrument. His bass amp had a huge hole in the front of it but that didn’t compare to the fact that the box was crushed and the speaker torn out of the back and thrown across the room.

The mic stands were on the floor. Two of Tatum’s cymbals stands were on the floor, the cymbals angled, reflecting a golden light back to my eyes. Guitars were face down, amps knocked over, and scattered across the floor were shards of wood from what used to be an acoustic guitar.

The worst of it all though was that the DownCrash banner that hung behind the drums was ripped at the left corner, leaving it dangling.

I saw that and gasped for air.

It screamed to me something I didn’t want to face ever.

DownCrash was done.

Gone.

Bye-bye.

“Logan,” I said.

“What the fuck is this?” a voice boomed.

It was Tatum.

He touched my shoulders and moved me. He surveyed the damage and looked at Logan, ready to kill him. Tripp walked to the fridge and opened the freezer, pulling out a bottle of vodka.

“Well, if we’re all going down to hell tonight,” he said as he twisted the lid off.

“Tripp, don’t,” Scarlett said.

Tripp didn’t listen.

He threw the lid in the general direction of Logan and then drank.

And drank.

And drank.

He drank vodka straight like I’d drink water.

I don’t know how he did it.

Tatum was in fists as he walked to his cymbals.

“You fucked with my shit?” he asked.

“Got in the way, man,” Logan said.

“So this is your message? This is what you want out of this?”

“I took care of things.”

“You’re an asshole,” Tatum said.

I stepped forward, unsure what I was going to do.

“Okay then,” Logan said.

He pushed off the table and stood, staring straight at Tatum. For each step he took, Tatum took one too. They didn’t stop until their chests touched. Tatum had a couple inches on Logan, but Logan looked freaking nuts. He looked capable of anything.

“Fight it out,” Tripp cackled as he drank some more. “Or better yet... let’s keep going...”

He spun and threw the bottle of vodka at the wall. It shattered with a horrible sound. Tripp flipped the table near the fridge and then set his sights on the couch. He moved fast and with aggression.

Tatum kicked at Logan’s bass. “Can’t play now, can you?”

“Whoops,” Logan said.

I called his name and he turned his head. His eyes were so damn distant. He was so lost.

“Don’t do this,” I said. “For me. For us...”

I touched my stomach.

My stomach flipped and started to burn. There was a quick sharp pain but it faded away. My muscles tensed and released.

“This is so stupid,” Tatum said.

“Fuck it then,” Logan said.

He turned and Tatum grabbed his shoulder. I saw Logan make a fist but couldn’t get to him in time. I screamed and Tatum shoved Logan. He spun as his fist saw nothing but air. He fell forward and landed on the table. Tatum grabbed his shirt and pulled him back, wrapping one of his arms around Logan’s throat. He squeezed but not enough to hurt him.

“You fucking listen to me,” Tatum growled. “We all suffer. We all feel pain, man. That’s what makes this band work. Smarten up.”

Tatum pushed Logan. He instantly spun with a fist but stopped himself way too close to Tatum’s face. Tatum didn’t flinch.

“Do what you have to do,” Tatum said.

“Fuck that,” Tripp called out. “No bass, no band.”

“Tripp,” Tatum said. “Cut it.”

“No. We’re going into the fucking studio, man. I’m not dealing with it.”

I could see the fire flaring in Logan’s eyes.

I wanted to jump in too.

How much did everyone have to put up with Tripp? Tatum? Wasn’t that part of the band? They were like a family, like brothers or something.

“Logan, come with me,” I said and reached for his arm.

He turned and took me into his arms. He lifted me and put me down. He backed away and held my face.

“Annie, what’s left?”

“Life,” I said. “Life, Logan, life. He’s gone, and I’m sorry about it, but that doesn’t mean you have to be gone too.”

“Maybe I’m already gone,” he said.

He pulled me in for a kiss and then left. He left the garage. He started his car and he drove away. I looked at Maggie, then Scarlett, then Tatum, and finally Tripp. Everyone stared at me like they had before.

My stomach ached for a second and then a sharp pain came again.

I was going to be sick.

I clutched my stomach and took a step.

“I need to go in the house,” I said.

“Why don’t you chase him down?” Tripp asked.

“I can’t,” I said. “I can’t...”

“Let me help you,” Maggie said.

As she approached me, the look in her eyes was pity. Pure pity. Pity because I was dumb enough to let Jared slip away. I was dumb enough to have an idea that he had to have been cheating but did nothing about it. Dumb enough to fall for Logan and sleep with him, again and again. Dumb enough to get pregnant. Dumb enough... just dumb.

“No,” I said and pointed at Maggie. “Just leave me the fuck alone.”

The hate burned in my mind and came as from my mouth. I didn’t want to be dumb or be looked at as dumb. I wanted someone to grab me, hold me, and tell me things were going to be okay. It wasn’t my burden to suffer whatever Logan felt. I tried to help him, and so did his band.

Wherever he was now, whatever he was doing, that was his problem.

Not mine.

“Annie,” Maggie said. “Annie, please don’t get upset.”

I held my stomach and backed up some more.

“Well, I guess we’ll get a new bassist,” Tripp said. He had another bottle of vodka in his hand and he stood staring down at the mess Logan created. “We have no choice. We have to get into the studio. We have to record.”

“Shut up, dude,” Tatum said.

Tripp looked at Tatum. “Don’t tell me to shut up. Where do you think he’s going right now? You think he’s...”

Tripp’s eyes met with mine. I mentally pleaded with him to stop. To not continue. To not let his mind slip to a dark place. put the vodka bottle to his lips and took a drink.

“Okay, everyone just needs a breath,” Tatum said. “We shouldn’t be in this garage right now.”

“I agree,” Maggie said.

I looked at Maggie and Tatum.

Who the hell were they all of a sudden? Mom and Dad?

“I remember one time seeing someone storm out,” Tripp said.

“Dude,” Tatum bellowed.

“Just like Logan,” Tripp said. “Do you know who it was?”

Tatum punched Tripp’s arm and the bottle fell from his hand. It shattered when it hit the floor. Tripp looked down at it and then at Tatum.

“Are you scared, Tatum?” he asked.

His voice trembled and he started to sway.

Tatum grabbed Tripp by the shoulders. “We all are. We have to help him.”

“We can’t. When he puts the gun to his head, man... it’ll be...”

Tripp’s eyes closed as he shook his head. Tears filled my eyes. Maggie came towards me and I waved her away. Another pain shot through my stomach, this time going beyond my stomach. It rocked my world... a feeling from my toes to my heart. Like a slithering venom that took hold of me.

Tatum pulled Tripp in for a hug. “Don’t say shit like that.”