Full Tilt (Rock Star Chronicles) Read online

  “You flew with that?” Wesley found his white T-shirt, threw it on, and tried to figure out how to get rid of this maniac.

  “In the bag I checked. Along with some other goodies.”

  “You’re dang lucky.” Pulling on his baggy cargo jeans, Wesley stepped closer to the bed, secretly admiring Tony’s stash while being bombarded by the “warning triggers” they’d taught him about at Horizons. “You alone?”

  “Yeah. That weasel Brubaker was supposed to come, but he wimped out. Mama’s boy.”

  Within minutes, Tony’s coat was on the chair, and he was seated on the floor leaning against the bed with his legs crossed in front of him. Holding a meth-packed silver pipe in one hand, he masterfully waved his flaming Zippo beneath the bowl, heating it until the crystal began to smoke.

  “Ah. Smell that?” He snickered. “Been a while for you. I bet you’re ab-so-lute-ly dy-ing.”

  There was no avoiding the familiar smell. Probably putrid to the unknowing onlooker, it hit Wesley like sheer seduction and sent him back to a thousand all-nighters.

  “Come on, dude.” Tony puffed and toked. “This thing is firin’ on all cylinders.”

  Wesley turned his back and pulled a dark green sweater over his head, then moved slowly toward a chair to put his socks and boots on. “What are you doing here?”

  Tony held the smoke in his lungs and talked quickly and quietly at the same time. “You sit down with me and take a hit and I’ll tell ya.”

  The phone rang.

  “Yeah?” Wesley welcomed the distraction.

  “Hey, brother,” Madison said. “How you doing?”

  “Okay,” He looked around, realizing he’d just lied. “What’s up?”

  “We’re having dinner early. A place called the Upper Deck. Uncle Everett says you’re gonna love the cheesesteak; they’re famous for it. Meet us in the lobby at five?”

  He looked at the clock by the bed. Ten to four. “Sure.”

  “You all right?”

  “Yeah.” He glanced at Tony and the smoking bowl. “Just wakin’ up…”

  “See you downstairs.”

  After hanging up, Wesley walked into the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. “Tell me why you’re here,” he said, with his face in one of the big white towels. “I gotta get going soon.”

  When he looked in the mirror, Tony was right behind him. “I said, do a bump with me, then I’ll tell you what I’m doing here.” He waved the smoking bowl in circles beneath Wesley’s nose.

  “Get that outta my face.” Wesley spun away.

  Tony’s eyebrows arched, and his face contorted with rage. “Don’t tell me Lester’s gotten to you.” He swept the coffeemaker, glasses, and toiletries off the granite counter in one fell swoop, sending them shattering and bouncing to the tile floor. “He’s taken David! Now, you?”

  “Dude, look.” Wesley gulped. “I need to try this—”

  “You can’t do it, Lester!” Tony’s nasty, twitching, demon-face was three inches from his. “It’s not gonna last. You know that? You’re one of us!”

  Wesley looked around, dazed. “Who’s ‘us’?”

  Tony’s head dropped back with a ghoulish laugh.

  Standing amid the broken glass, Wesley felt reality slipping away.

  He looked in the mirror. Tony was howling, while his own face wore a peaked scowl. His face and neck were covered with red splotches from where he’d itched. Now he knew how David must have felt. It had been a despicable existence. And like his brother, Wesley wanted to be set free. Whether that meant getting high or dying, he just didn’t know anymore. He didn’t care.

  “Come in here and do what you really wanna do!” Tony marched back into the bedroom, and Wesley followed like a zombie.

  “Gimme that.” Wesley grabbed the hot pipe, took it to his mouth with trembling hands, hit it long, and held the lethal fumes deep in his chest. “Whoa.” The room spun like a merry-go-round as he opened his mouth in the shape of an O and exhaled like a fire-breathing dragon.

  “That’s what I’m talkin’ about.” Tony cackled. “Go ’head. Load up. You deserve it.”

  Wesley plunked down on the bed.

  “Where you headed?” Tony dropped into the chair next to him.

  Wesley ignored him, savoring another enormous hit.

  “I said, where’re you off to?”

  “Dinner, supposedly.” Wesley smirked. “But now, I’m not so sure.”

  They both laughed, and Tony waved for Wesley to keep the pipe.

  It must have been five minutes later, after Wesley had fired up the remainder of the bowl, that Tony leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “I’m here to make a hit.”

  “A hit?” Wesley chuckled. “What’re you talkin’ about?”

  Tony glared at him, that wicked eye twitching again. “What do you think I’m talkin’ about?”

  “Dude, take it easy.” Wesley’s stomach bottomed out, and his face ignited with a hot flash. “What’s goin’ on?”

  “What’s goin’ on is, I’m here to do the deed on your uncle. And I’m gonna need your help.”

  38

  AFTER THE SOUND CHECK, Everett and Karen met back at the hotel room, finished cleaning up, and eased down on the king-size bed, lying on their sides, face-to-face.

  “You okay?” She ran her fingers through his dark hair.

  “Tired, for some reason.”

  “You sure that’s all?” she asked, knowing it wasn’t.

  “I guess I’m just feeling a lot of pressure.” He closed his eyes.

  She squeezed the back of his neck, then massaged his shoulders. “Whatcha thinkin’ about?”

  He pursed his lips and looked her in the eye. “I got a call from Margaret Badino before the sound check.”

  Karen sat up. The massage stopped. “And…”

  “She thinks Tony might be following us.”

  “What?” Karen shouted, then stared at him as the words seemed to buzz through her bloodstream.

  “She found some notes he wrote, about plane tickets and cities.” Everett sat up, too. “His suitcase is gone. He’s gone. He had all of our tour cities written down.”

  Karen stood and whirled around. “I can’t believe this! We are literally being tracked down by this…this Satanist!”

  “I’ve already discussed it with your dad. He’s telling security. They’ll pass out a photo…”

  Karen’s hands covered her mouth and nose as she wandered about the room, trying to keep her composure.

  “Honey, it’s gonna be okay.” Everett went to her. “God loves us.” He turned her toward him and smiled. “Isn’t that what you’ve been drilling into my head ever since you were a teenager? Look, I’m scared, but I’m also determined to leave this in His hands. It’s up to Him to protect us.”

  Good! She wrapped her arms around him.

  “God’s put this thing in my heart, to sing and share Him. Remember what you wrote to me in prison? They overcame him by the blood of the Lamb and the word of their testimony? I know we’re where He wants us.”

  Oh, how she needed to hear him take a stand and say those words. She’d grown so tired of being the spiritual leader in their house.

  He looked into her eyes and held her cheek in the palm of his hand. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

  She grasped his wrist. “I’m proud of you, Ev.”

  They kissed for several moments, then Karen combed his hair behind his ear with her fingers. “You’d make such a good daddy, you know that?”

  She searched his face for an initial, unspoken response. “Why shouldn’t we adopt, Ev?”

  His striking brown eyes didn’t flinch. They were steady and true. “I’ve been waiting for you…to talk about it. I wanna know what you think.”

  She took a deep breath and held his gaze. “I saw a little girl in the lobby, in a wheelchair—”

  “I saw her, too.”

  “I think about all that’s happened to us.” She place
d her hand on his chest. “And I think, life’s too short. There are children out there, somewhere, who need a loving home, a godly home, and all the things we can provide.” Karen reached for his hand, interlocking their fingers.

  “I’ve said all along, you’re going to make the world’s greatest mom, babe.”

  She giggled. And then they laughed. It was a sweet release. Even though they both knew the enemy could be just beyond their hotel room door, suddenly it didn’t matter. For the moment, everything was right again. Everything was good.

  Karen looked into the mirror and brushed her long blond hair while Everett changed shirts. In the reflection, she noticed he’d thrown on one of his favorite old faded T-shirts and begun putting things in his shoulder bag, as if he was dressed for the show.

  She turned around and eyed the shirt. “Are you wearing that onstage?”

  “Yep.” He continued stuffing things into his bag.

  “What gives? I thought you didn’t want the tattoos to show.”

  He came over and kissed her. “I am who God made me, and I’m gonna start livin’ like it.”

  Karen’s insides swelled with gladness.

  He returned her smile. “You think that’s good?”

  “I think that rocks, honey!”

  It was one of those moments when they were really clicking, enjoying the beauty, humor, and charm God had given each of them—and the fact that He’d joined them together as one flesh.

  Karen applied some pink lipstick that matched her velour sweater. “I don’t know why, but I keep thinking about that Bible Wesley had in his hospital room. You saw it, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah. It was Cassidy’s.” He was about ready to take off.

  “I know. Did you see what was underlined in it?”

  “I did, but I forget…”

  “When Mary poured perfume on Jesus’ feet.”

  “Oh, yeah, and the disciples got ticked.”

  “Judas.” She turned to face him. “That’s when he betrayed Jesus.”

  Everett tossed the black bag over his shoulder and finally stood still for a second. “What’s bothering you about it?”

  “I just thought it was weird that, in the whole Bible, that story was the only thing underlined.”

  “I wonder who underlined it.”

  “Cassidy, I guess.”

  Everett looked at the clock. “Whoa. I’ve got to catch your dad and Gray about security for tonight. You wanna just meet in the lobby at five?”

  “Okay.”

  He put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her, long and sweet. “I’m stoked about tonight.” His smile lit up the room.

  “I am too.” She held his gaze as long as she could before he marched confidently out of the room.

  Walking to the bed, she flopped down and rested her head on the shirt Everett had just taken off. She closed her eyes, nestled up to the shirt, and breathed it in—never wanting that smell to go away, never wanting to be without him.

  “You work for Mendazzo, don’t you?” Wesley stared curiously at Tony, holding the hot pipe in his fingers.

  “I get my orders from my old man.”

  “Your old man’s Mendazzo’s captain.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Then where’s my dad?”

  Tony dropped back in his chair. “Don’t know nothin’ about that.”

  I think you do, you crazy psycho.

  “You did the hit in Canarsie, didn’t you?”

  “Take another bump, Lester.”

  Wesley ignored him. “Didn’t you?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Why my uncle?”

  “Dude came into our house.” Tony jumped to the edge of his seat. “Interrogated my mom. Narked on me. Then my old man! Every one of those things gets death in the Mendazzo family.”

  Wesley hoisted his legs over the edge of the bed and handed Tony the pipe. “Yeah, but he’s been paying my old man’s debts. Why would you want to hurt him, unless my old man’s not comin’ back?”

  “Look, the rock star dug his own grave, Lester. Has nothin’ to do with your old man. I told you, I don’t know nothin’ about that.”

  Wesley didn’t know what to believe anymore. He hated himself for being so weak. He was just a miserable little meth head who was easily coaxed from one bad situation to the next. “I just don’t see why you think you have to hurt—”

  “You are so blind!” Tony stood and fired the pipe across the room, a shower of orange embers exploding as it hit the mirror and chipped the glass. “Dude’s spreadin’ lies! Just like all those other fundamentalist big shots. Spouting their empty promises. Nothin’ but spiritual pipe dreams for the insecure. We gotta stop them.”

  Tony marched over to the pipe and stomped out the burning embers. “Thing you don’t know is, I had a girl once named Erica. You hear me? Erica. I was gonna marry her, until some self-righteous Jesus freak like your uncle got ahold of her—”

  “Wait a minute.” The words left Wesley’s mouth at the same time he figured it out. “Did your old man put you up to this—or is this your idea?”

  Tony smacked Wesley’s cheek so fast, he felt the sting before he saw the flashing hand. “Don’t you question me.” The wide-eyed, wicked-faced, talk-spitting grease monkey was within inches now. “The big Jesus tour’s over. It’s crucifixion time. And you’re bringin’ the nails.”

  What have I gotten myself into? This is nuts.

  The dude belonged in a rubber room. Wesley didn’t dare speak.

  “I’m makin’ the hit and need you to set him up, so it’s nice and clean.” Tony’s oil-stained finger was in his face. “Besides, you got no choice in the matter.”

  Wesley could only stare at the huffing monster, putting a hand to his hot cheek and trying desperately to come back down to reality.

  Maybe I should run. Right now. Just take off.

  “Think about your little brother. What about him?” Tony seethed. “You just gonna let that go? You forgot that already? What about the journal and the Other Side? Your uncle needs to pay! If we don’t get him back, who will?”

  Wesley’s mind sucked backward like a vacuum. Everything seared white and distant. A thousand images of David and his family morphed together into one high-speed flashback.

  Then he heard the voice again.

  Vengeance, Lester.

  “What’d you say?” Wesley staggered toward the wall.

  “I said, I’m willing to pay you,” Tony’s voice came from behind.

  Wesley turned to see the goon holding up a wad of bills. “I’ll give you three thousand bucks to line him up for me. All you gotta do is call him, tell him to come meet you. That’s it. Your part’s done.”

  Tony stuffed the money in Wesley’s hand. He looked down at it. Blood money.

  Who really cared what kind of money it was? Nothing mattered anymore. My life’s garbage anyway.

  “I’m bein’ very generous with you, Wes, because we’re partners. Besides, if you don’t do it, I can’t promise what may happen to that sexy sister of yours…”

  Standing bewildered, Wesley squeezed the lump of bills in his fist. He took several steps and ran a hand along the wall.

  Everything was way out of control.

  He’d fallen again. Guilty.

  I’ll never make it without meth.

  All the voices were speaking at once. Tony’s. Everett’s. Cassidy’s. His dad’s. And the one called Vengeance.

  But loudest of them all was the voice that told him he must not let anything happen to his sister. She was innocent. And he couldn’t be responsible for something like that…not again.

  And then he heard one last voice.

  But this time it was his own.

  And it was saying, “What do you want me to do?”

  On the thirty-fourth floor, atop the Pittsburgh Mutual Bank building, the Upper Deck restaurant was bustling with people. Jacob had arranged for a long table by the window overlooking the Allegheny River and, just beyond it, PNC
Park. Everett counted twelve people at the dinner table; Wesley would have made thirteen. His absence ate at Everett’s stomach but couldn’t delude the afterglow he enjoyed from his time spent with Karen that afternoon.

  “Well, it looks like everyone’s here except Wesley,” Everett announced as a wiry waiter with jet-black hair and an all-business blond waitress refilled drinks and delivered salads and soups.

  “I can’t find him.” Madison arrived late, anxiously punching at her cell phone.

  “When did you talk to him last?” Jacob asked.

  “A little before four. He’s not in his room; at least he’s not answering. I can’t think where he would’ve gone.”

  “Maybe he wasn’t hungry and went over early,” Sarah said.

  “That has to be it.” Madison nodded. “He must not be getting a signal in there.”

  “I’ve gotten a signal in there all day.” Everett leaned over and whispered to Karen. “I’m going to run over to his room. Okay?”

  Karen’s shoulders slumped. “What about dinner?”

  “You know I can’t eat much before a concert.”

  She reached beneath the table for his hand. “Okay, just hurry up and get back here. You want me to order you anything?”

  “The salad’s good for now.” Everett excused himself, grabbed his bag, and made for the elevators.

  Once in the lobby, he threw his coat on, hustled through the circular doors, and trotted across the busy crosswalk leading back to the hotel. Buildings from the city skyline cast long, sharp shadows over the concrete landscape, and the winter sun was disappearing in the west.

  His phone vibrated in the back pocket of his jeans. “Yeah.” He waved to some gawking fans.

  “Uncle Everett…”

  He stopped just outside the entrance to the Marriott. “Wesley?”

  “I…need your help.”

  This can’t be good. Everett looked up at the tall buildings. “Where are you?”

  “I need you to pick me up. I’m out of dough, or I’d take a cab.”

  Everett looked at his watch. “Where are you?”