I laughed. “Yeah, Myles. Just standing here in the dark, waiting for you to come back.”
He latched onto Ram’s shoulder for balance. “I think you’re being sarcasmic.” He blinked. “Sarcasmic? Is that right?” A laugh. “Shit, I’m lit.”
I moved to his side, leaned up against him. “Yeah, you are.”
He stared down at me, deep brown eyes dizzy but intent. “You mad?”
That stung a little, that Myles’s first thought upon seeing me was to ask if I was upset about something. Wanting to alleviate his worries, I lifted up and kissed his cheek. “Mad? Hell, no. I’m glad you had a good time.”
He sighed. “I don’t get like this often. Party a lot after shows, but I stay cool.” He belched loudly. “’Scuse me. But I felt like with these guys? With these guys? I could maybe be a little less cool. It’s hard bein’ cool all the time.”
Zane laughed. “You are far from cool, my dude. I’m onto your little secret. You’re just a big dork.” He cackled. “But that’s okay. Your secret is safe with me.” Zane sounded like he was a little less lit, but then he missed a step, standing still, and I realized he just sounded like it.
“I’m not a dork,” Myles protested. “But people got this—this idea that a rock star oughta be cool. Like, cool. So I’m cool, for the fans. But you guys are real. And the real me isn’t cool. I’m just, just like…this guy, you know?” He swayed way back, and I caught him. “Whoa. Gettin’ the spins.”
“Getting the spins?” Ink rumbled. “You had the spins half a fifth ago, little man.”
Myles glared way, way up at Ink. “Who are you calling little, you damn tree?”
Ink rumbled a deep laugh. “You’re funny.”
Ramsey let out a fart. “Everybody’s little compared to you.” He seemed to see me for the first time. “Oh, hey.”
I laughed. “Hi, Ramsey. That was disgusting, by the way.”
“You heard that, huh?”
I laughed. “Heard it? I think they felt it in San Francisco.”
Ink chortled. “You oughta hear mine. You’ll really feel those.”
“No, thank you.” I patted Myles. “I’m heading back, all right?”
“I’ll come with you,” he said.
“No need. I know the way from here, and it’s not even that late.”
He leaned on me. “But babe, babe. Sorry, Lex, I mean. Sorry. Um. I’ve been drinkin’ since ten this morning. About ready to pass the fuck out. And plus, I ain’t sure I can walk in a straight line.”
“I’m not sure you can walk at all.”
Lucas rested a big hand on Myles’s shoulder. “I’m heading that way, too. So if you need help, I’m here.”
Myles looked up at Lucas. “You got it, dude.” He laughed, eying us expectantly. “Full House. No? Nobody? I used to love that show. Crow’s mom would let us watch TV and drink sodas, and we’d always watch that, and…what was the other one? Step by Step. Ahh, the nineties, man.” He waved at Ramsey and Ink, as if they were far away. “Bye, guys. You’re the coolest. Thanks for making me feel welcome, and not famous.”
He saw Brock, then, ambling up to the group. “That was a hell of a flight, man. I want you to know I appreciate you staying sober and flying us.”
Brock laughed. “Ah shit, he’s going maudlin.” He glanced at me. “Quick, Lexie, get him out of here before he starts crying on our shoulders.”
“I’ll do something on your shoulder,” Myles said, and cackled.
“Gross, dude,” Brock said, laughing. “Not on my shoulder, you’re not.” He grinned, gesturing at me. “On hers, maybe.”
I flipped him off. “Don’t you volunteer me for that, motherfucker!” I laughed, though, making a joke of it.
Myles wobbled, eyes on me. “No, I thought about that, but she’s too classy for that. Wouldn’t want to.” He smirked at me, winking. “I got other plans, anyway.”
“Yeah, passing out and hoping you don’t piss the bed,” Brock laughed. “And good luck with that, man. You are lit.”
“I never piss the bed. Well, not since I was super little. I did get so drunk this one time that I shit myself, though. But I was like, a kid, and Crow and I had gotten hold of a bottle of Everclear. That was a bad time.”
“Well, you better not shit on me while I’m in the bed with you,” I said. “You shit on me, I’ll never have sex with you again.”
Myles held his hand up to his heart. “I solemnly swear I will not poop the bed.”
I laughed, and angled him away, toward where Mom’s condo was. “Come on, rock star. Let’s go.”
“Not a rock star,” he mumbled. “I’m a country star. ’S different.” A muzzy laugh. “Rock stars are sissies. They think they can hang, but they can’t. Bring a rock star to a country show, and he’ll wimp out. We know how to fuckin’ party.”
I eyed Lucas. “You want to take his other side? I think this fella’s reached his limit.”
Lucas moved around to prop Myles up on his other side, and Myles grinned at each of us. “It’s a sandwich. Except the meat is on the outside, and the white bread in the middle.” He grinned at Lucas and then at me. “Big meat. Sexy meat.” He poked his belly. “No meat. Just a skinny kid from the ass end of Texas.”
Lucas laughed. “One foot in front of the other, Myles.”
And, step by step, we got him back to Mom’s. Up the stairs, into the condo, where Mom, Cassie, and Charlie were watching a movie—they paused it as we entered and regarded Myles with amusement.
“Wow, someone had a good time,” Mom said.
Myles wobbled his head, now finding it hard to hold it up. “Too good. This is tradition, though. Last night of freedom before going back out on the road, I get bomb-faced. Because on the tour, I gotta be the man. The honcho. The boss. Gotta wear the belt and twang but
