Playing Russian Roulette.

After tomorrow,
things just won't ever be the same again.
Keep on running darling,
you're bound to kill yourself with another thousand miles.
And tear my eyes right out.
I'd rather see you without them anyway.

-From First to Last.

“Interview with The Urgency is already set up. Do it. You’ve been neglecting your Buzznet duties.” Yes, neglecting is the perfect word for describing the passed two days I experienced. Accepting calls from my father, from friends, telling them I was fine.

And having concerned conversations with my fans at both the stop, having to fess up and admit it was true and each time hold my breath and wait for an impact of vicious words, and each time surprised and shocked.

Fans hugged me, forgave me, handed over the “past is the past” speech, and promised to protect me against Josh and Ronnie. They all accepted my past and still loved me despite it all. So, no, neglecting was wrong, Rachel. More like saving my precious reputation, something I doubted she understood.

Not to mention the minor things. Worrying about Max and my alone time, Josh being bailed out of jail after only a few hours by his cameraman, all the rumors of Josh being pissed and wanting to fight me, all the havoc workers giving me dirty looks, and Devin’s seemingly endless case of hives.

And my ever dwindling supply of clean clothes.

But not all of it was bad. Some of the prior forty-eight hours was good. Ghost attacked Craig and violated his arm. Max found a new ring for me in a bag of things Gabrielle left behind on the bus. It was almost like my previous one, except slimmer with a curved, twisted design on the surface.

Some of my old high school friends, including Kyle and Mattie, were among the concerned callers asking if I was alright, and they promised to pay us a visit after Warped, all of them, like a big reunion.

Honestly, I believe Josh spilling all my secret was the best thing that ever happened to me, for all aspects of my life.

My thoughts stopped at the word. “Life.” Though I never thought it for a second now, my life was pretty perfect. Friends, relationship, awesome job, no more secrets, and even my father -- my only living family -- called twice a day now to ask how things were and how my day went.

For twenty-two years, he never asked me once how my day went. And, for some reason, I liked telling my blood relative about everything without limits for the first time, even the contents of the video that I may or may not have watched a total of fifteen times since the morning in Milwaukee.

Frowning, I pocketed my Blackberry, leaving Rachel’s text unanswered. The feelings of my reaction to the first viewing came back in a rush.

I couldn’t define how it felt to hear things I had bottled up for the first time in six months. To hear Josh gush about my abuse, my cheating on Ronnie, my drug use, my former partying ways, and all the reasl reasons for the split between the boys and myself, and exaggerate some of it to make it seem a lot worse than it was.

Of course, I set the record straight with that.

I was upset, disgusted, and I did not want to go outside and face anyone. I felt like a moron, but the emotions I expected never surfaced. I sat in silence while Devin, Max, and the others gasped, sobbed, and exchanged disbelieving looks. I never wanted them to hear the gory details, none of them, despite whether or not they cared.

I shook it off.

“Yes, Rachel, I will interview The Urgency.”

I snatched up one of my stilettos from the corner of the kitchenette. I cocked my hip against the counter and bent my leg at the knee behind myself, slipping my heel on. I copied the movement with the other shoe.

Finished, I glanced over my shoulder at my dog, placed in his usual corner on the couch. “I have to go work, Ghost, but I’ll be back soon.” I sauntered away from the counter and to the refrigerator, pulling open the door and peering inside. “Behave. Don’t lick anything, do not chew on your paws, and no eating anything, like my shoes or clothes.”

I grabbed a bottle of water, closed the door, and turned to face my dog again. “Got it?”

Ghost gave me one of his uncaring, uninterested looks and dropped his head on his paws, closing his eyes. I would return to find my blankets and pillows shredded as a way of revenge. Don’t tell me what to do! You’re not my real mother. Ha. My dog as a whiny, rebellious teenager. I loved him, even if he did kill my favorite things.

Maybe reuniting with Kit Kat in Los Angeles would do him some good and maybe he would behave my commands like he did when we were still at home.

“Okay, I love you, too.” Water in hand, I crossed the room, circling around the edge of the counter, and stepped down to the last stair before the front door… and stalled, my hand on the doorknob. Four disgusting scabs littered the top of my knuckles, my middle knuckle bruised around the edges.

A part of my stomach ached.

Every time I went to go outside, I remembered what I did to Josh, and I remembered just how vicious he could get when on the binge of a hard drug. He could do bad things. So what if by some off chance I ran into him and he assaulted me, did worse to me than I did to him.

It only took a split second for him to find me between the times I was with the boys or someone else. All it took was a split second to lose everything.

Not that I was calling Josh a murderer, just that he was prone to becoming a different person once under the influence of any particular narcotic. And one of those personalities would probably have the gall to beat me to death in an alley behind the venue.

Who knew I refused to put anything passed a drug addict with a need for revenge on one of his former clients.

The boys, fans, and friends couldn’t always be at my side, and that scared me. How could I defend myself for a second time? My luck should run out soon.

Taking a strong, deep breath, I opened the front door out onto the filled cement parking lot, and peered upward. The skies above were scattered with light gray clouds, and the sun lay hidden behind a large, towering one off to the left of the parking lot. Great. The day I had to work, it was going to downpour. My luck is running out.

With a final look back into the bus, I stepped to the cement parking lot below, my heels clinking against the hard surface beneath my feet.

Things were bustling already on the grounds, considering I was slightly later than usual due to a long shower and an extra phone call to my father. Devin and Stefan departed soon after I locked myself in the bathroom with the location of where they were going: the nearest Starbucks.

Someone had said the ‘s’ word obviously. Thankfully, they promised to bring me something back.

I closed the door. I had to trek to my first destination across the venue grounds all on my own. And I had not an inkling where the Escape the Fate merchandise tent was, where I promised Robert I would be to hang out with him and Leila while the others were at different interviews. Poor Robert; he wasn’t very maternal, and it viciously showed.

I began my way across the parking lot. Surprisingly, it was nestled in the back and to the left of the amphitheater. I scanned my eyes around the area, among the different capacity vehicles belonging to the bands. There were stragglers -- people smoking, people drinking, female musicians socializing in groups over by a kiddy pool -- all whom ignored me as I passed by.

Winding my way through the tightly packed buses, I slid my hands into the pockets of my jacket and pulled it close. The wind was chilly to my Las Vegas tempered skin, but I was not a Kansas native. Some of the goers I spotted -- as a I circled around the main stage and into the grounds -- were wearing shorts and tank tops.

Just looking at them made me shiver. How were they still alive?!

But, I laughed it off, wondering what the boys were doing to handle the coolness. Probably comical things, unless I was the only one freezing my ass off. In that case, I never wanted to leave my odd double life between Las Vegas and Los Angeles, where it never rained and the temperature was always scorching. I wouldn’t survive if forced to reside anywhere else.

I walked quickly passed the edge of the main stage and spotted the Angry Penguin tent, then the long lines and patterns of the other ones. Band merch and other such, mostly, meaning I would soon be happily beneath the Escape the Fate tent with Robert and Leila--

For the first time since I stepped outside of my bus, I remembered Josh, and a certain feeling of dread and worry passed over me. My gaze shot around the expanse before me, noting faces, studying body languages of those with their back turned toward me. Any twitches, any kind of movement native to Josh, I searched for.

But found nothing.

Had it not made me look like a bonified moron, I would have done the whole three-sixty turn in sought of the possibly infuriated drug dealer. I didn’t want to go down in Warped history as the most insane Buzznet representative ever.

Instead, I gave a quick glance over my shoulder and hastened my pace and hurried forth through all the concert goers.

I doubted Josh would be skulking around with so many people jostling back and forth among the grounds. I did not enjoy walking alone. Hopefully I would feel safer once I was actually in the presence of Robert, close by to him in a tin tent. My most hated thing in the world was feeling insecure and… frightened. Why did Josh scare me?

What I would do to not feel like that. Maybe Robert would give the closure I felt I needed. Not to mention I knew for a fact that after Josh and my brouhaha, Robert wouldn’t allow him to get anywhere near us.

A group of girls and guys with kids on their hips and shoulders stood beside the water tent, and I nearly burst into a flat out run as I passed them and saw -- finally -- the familiar tent in the middle of the mass of tents.

Robert was sitting in a chair close to the back with the usual merch person selling things, Leila placed on his knee. I hurried forth, pushing through a few people, and launched myself through the opening of the merch tent.

Robert snapped his head up as I threw myself into the cloth camping chair in front of them. Leila smiled brightly over at me, her little eyes sparkling in the shade of the tent.

“Jay-Jay!” she cried, arms shooting out in front of her. She squirmed around on Robert’s knee until I reached out and pulled her over to me, placing her so she faced me in my lap.

“Hello, Leila.” I smiled at her and tucked a piece of flyaway, blonde hair behind her ear. “You look very pretty today!” I found it surprising she was wearing a little red tutu with a black and white striped tank top. Insanely cute, but something Craig would pick out?

It didn’t really seem so.

“Daddy wif Maxie!” Leila exclaimed randomly.

“Yeah, Daddy’s with uncle Max,” I echoed. “But, did you have fun with Robert? Was he nice to you, because don’t think I won’t tattle to your Daddy.”

Leila stared up at me for a moment. After a stint of silence, she yelled, “Rob have candy!” And jabbed a tiny, pudgy little hand behind her at her self proclaimed relative. “Yummy.”

I shot a glance at the other adult beneath the tent. “Do you have candy?” I saw the shift in his eyes and he pulled his sunglasses down from their perch on his head. “Fess up, big Rob. I want candy?”

“Why do you want candy?” he questioned stubbornly.

“I’m craving something sweet, okay? I’ve had a really crappy morning,” I muttered, shaking my head. Would I have mornings and days like this until the last day of Warped? No, fuck that!

Josh would assault me if he wanted to, but I was not spending the last few weeks of the tour paranoid and afraid. I had many better things to do, like worry about Max and my future hotel room. That seemed so much scarier than Josh trying to murder me. Sadly.

Robert made an ugly, scrunched face. “Thanks for narking, Leila.” Regardless to his annoyed tone, he began searching through the front pocket of his black jeans, pulling out two tiny, thing red lollipops. He passed both of them to me with a sigh.

I felt a snarky comment on the tip of my tongue, but swallowed it as Leila snatched one of the lollipops right out of my hand. She began gnawing on the plastic-covered outside. I watched her for a moment, amused. Children were odd; who else would use their tiny teeth to physically chew and rip at the only thing keeping them from their sweets? While smiling strangely at Robert, on top of it all.

I removed the candy from her little hand and placed my own on my knee, before yanking hers open. I handed it back and she plunged it into her mouth, grinning. “Yummy!” she murmured around the red object.

“Yeah, yummy, Leila!” I ripped mine open and brought it to my lips . Cherry, of course, and it smelled like plastic. Cautiously, I stuck it in my mouth and nearly gagged at the awful taste. Plastic was merely an understatement.

Robert snickered. I glanced upward. He knew it tasted bad! That explains why he didn’t put up much of a fight. “Yummy,” I muttered, making a face at Robert.

Leila liked it, though, so I wouldn’t sat a word to make her hate it. She sat contently in silence, eating the strange candy substance with a giant smile on her face.

I rested into the back of my chair, sighing. This was wonderful, but it could only last a little while. My interview with The Urgency was at four ‘clock, and it was currently two thirty. Devin and Stefan were due back to the grounds at any moment, unless they got distracted on the way. Big possibility.

“Why’s your morning been crappy?” Robert asked, pulling my attention back to his face.

“I’m… paranoid.” I sounded like such a moron. A twenty-three-year-old paranoid of some guy. I was a grown woman. I shouldn’t be scared of anything. “On the walk here, I expected Josh to jump out of a corner and attack me.”

“He won’t attack you,” Robert muttered.

I met his gaze. He was sure -- absolutely sure -- of what he was saying. Of course Robert wasn’t afraid of me getting attacked. He was Big Rob, for goodness sake! No one was going to bother him, and he always managed to exude confidence, bravery.

Why couldn’t he rub off on me?

“Come on--” he whispered, leaning forward, forearms resting on his knees. “--where’s the Juliet I know? The one who never worried about what was going to happen and was never paranoid. Where?”

“She went on a date with Ronnie Radke, she did Ecstasy… she watched Joshua Torrent beat a client half to death because that client was short on money. I know what he can do, and I don’t want to die. I have things to live for now.”

I lowered my eyes to my left hand, the new ring glittering up at me, then to Leila. That statement may have been the smartest, most levelheaded thing I ever uttered. Friends held love for me now, I had a little girl clinging to me, and I felt in love for the first time ever.

Sure. I continually thought the same thing about my rare bursts of brilliance. But this particular comment was the truth.

“She doesn’t want to be taken away from her friends again.” I patted Leila’s head. “I also don’t want to ruin my pretty face! Max wouldn’t want me anymore.”

“He’s that shallow,” Robert laughed.

“Yes, he is.” I tilted my head to the left and giggled along with Robert. From this morning, I felt a little lighter, but still had the worry on my shoulders. And, if I learned anything from the passed few days, my intuition was always right.

“Yeah, I learned about your and Max’s hotel room.” Robert’s face took on a questionable expression. “I saw him looking up hotels on the internet, then he started acting like a teenaged boy, and I put two and two together.”

He smiled viciously. “It wasn’t hard to figure it out.”

Damn the evil genius.

“Oh, if you tell Devin or Stefan, you’re a dead man, Ortiz. A dead man.” I bit down on the lollipop, and it cracked in five different pieces under my molars. “Dead man.”

Robert raised his hands innocently. “I’m not going to tell a soul.” I still didn’t like his mischievous expression. “The others know, too.”

“Craig and Bryan?” I breathed.

“Both of them. Max told Craig, and I told Bryan, because I suck at keeping secrets.” Great. Who didn’t know about the only personal thing in my life? Devin and Stefan. Thankfully.

“Who else knows?”

“Jessica.”

“Robert, isn’t there anyone you haven’t told?” I whispered harshly. “I don’t need everyone in Vegas to know about my sex life!” I looked down at Leila, praying she wouldn’t repeat what she just heard. She continued to eat her lollipop in silence.

Please don’t repeat that later, either. I sighed and met his gaze yet again.

“Devin and Stefan don’t know, and I haven’t told them.” Robert grinned. “I can’t promise anyone else, Jay. Sorry about that.”

I pursed my lips. “It’s fine. But if I read anything about this on the internet--”

“I’m a dead man. I get it, Juliet.”

I laughed, slowly looking around at the people beyond the merchandise tent.

My phone rang, vibrating violently inside my front pocket. Leila skidded onto my other leg in an attempt to escape the sudden onslaught. Reaching into my pocket, I petted the side of her head and smiled. Good thing it was on vibrate and not on full blast like usual.

Something told me she wouldn’t appreciate Framing Hanley blasting through the air quite suddenly.

I pressed talk and lifted it to my hear. “Hello?”

“Hey, Jay.” Stefan’s voice greeted. He sounded tired and exasperated. Certain side effect of Devin hyped up on Starbucks. “Did you get Rachel’s text about The Urgency interview? We just did.”

“Yeah, I got it a little while ago.” I tilted my head sideways against the cloth back of the camping chair. “When do we need to set up?” What other reason would he be calling other than to have a schedule set?

Stefan laughed shortly, as if my knowledge both surprised and amuse him. “You know me so well, Julie.” There was silence for a moment, in which I heard Devin ranting on in the background about stronger coffee and seeing people who were invisible.

I doubted he needed stronger coffee if he was hallucinating.

“When we get back to the grounds, can we start? We need a question list, all the equipment, Devin needs some cool water and a nap.” Stefan sighed. “He’s had three frappucino since we left Starbucks. I may have to fill in for him during the interview.”

“How many coffees did he buy?!” I cried, sneaking a peek at Robert who was sitting in motionless silence, a completely stoic look on his face.

“I bought one, we bought one for you, and Devin--” He paused. “--bought four for himself.” Why the hell did he let him do that?! “Three down, one to go, and he’s already seeing people who don’t exist.”

Devin shouted something high pitched and frantic… and possibly in a foreign language. I knew he could speak French from the class we took together in high school, but I gathered not a single word he screeched.

It’s the coffee talking. And the coffee spoke an unfamiliar, jumbled language. I had a brief thought of whether or not Devin was twitching yet. Who knew with Devin when he was going through a drunken coffee state.

Devin’s coffee addiction was nearly identical to that of an alcoholic with a nice bottle of Jack Daniels, minus all the negative side effects of drinking, like becoming unruly. Too much coffee simply made Devin a hilarious wreck.

He even had a hangover once upon a long time when we were in high school. My father didn’t know what to do when he came home from another one of his all night “dates” and saw teenaged me standing in the kitchen with a horrific looking Devin. Not to mention there were three glasses of water and an entire, oversized bottle of Tylenol in front of my best friend.

I hoped that didn’t happen. Caring for Devin once was enough for me. If in the event it happened, Stefan was on duty as nursemaid, not me. I loved Devin, but I was over any kind of hangovers. Nonetheless, I was in if he needed a shoulder to be coffee drunk on.

I found him frankly amusing under such circumstances, hallucinations and all.

“Will we need to take care of him later?” I murmured, pressing the palm of my free hand to my forehead.

“You may have to after the interview--” Stefan suddenly burst into a fit of rugged laughter, followed by Devin cackling not far away from the receiver. “I love you, Devin Cannon Reilly! Now get away from the streetlight, love!”

A mental image of Devin sexually assaulting a poor defenseless streetlight popped into my head, and I, myself, giggled.

“You may not have to care for him so much as keep his insane coffee persona company, and possibly staying awake with him all night,” he explained with hints of laughter still in his voice. “You won’t mind, will you, Juliet?”

“No, not at all, Stefan.” I replaced my arm around Leila and laid my head atop hers. “Are you two close to the grounds?”

“Yes, we are! So, we’ll see you in a few minutes, Jay. Okay?”

“Okay,” I sighed.

“Bye.”

“Goodbye.” I hung up and slipped m phone back in my pocket, lifting my gaze to meet Robert’s again. Well, met it sideways. “I have to leave when they get back. My boss demands I work today.”

“Aw! I have to be alone?” Robert whined. “I asked you to keep me company because I didn’t want to be alone.” He frowned, and Leila twisted around in my arms and beneath my head.

I leaned backward, allowing her to turn. “Jay Jay, you leavin’?”

“Yeah, I have to leave or Devin and Stefan will be mad.” I made my best vicious “rawr” face. “And I don’t want them to be mad at me. Do you?”

“No,” she whispered.

“Then I have to leave, Leila.” I hoisted myself up, switching Leila to my hip. “Will you have fun with Robert while I’m gone? Make him buy you better candy!”

Leila’s eyes inched around to where Robert remained in his chair. I smiled brightly at him and bent over, placing the toddler in his lap. She looked at Robert, then at home with wide, pleading blue eyes. Her expression looked as if she had just lost a best friend.

She wanted me to stay. So did Robert, but I couldn’t. However, no one said they could not join the interview. Devin and Stefan would be fine with it as long as we got things done.

Placing my hands on my knees, I bent to eyelevel with Leila. “Okay, why don’t you and Robert come with me?” I directed the question at Robert, too, with a quick glance. “You can stay with Jay Jay while she works. Do you want to?”

“Yeah!” Leila threw her hands up in the air and I grabbed her up with fervor and excitement. She tossed herself closer to me and grinned. “I love you, Jay Jay!”

“I love you, too, Leila.”

X X X X

The setup looked quite professional in my opinion. Standing a few feet back from our station, every aspect seemed perfect and in the right place. Our two hours of work paid off, though we spent half that time wrestling with our tiny white, canva tent.

Our tent sat on one of the few empty spots on the grounds, located only moments from the back parking lot. My and Devin's director chairs were placed at the back with all the equipment below at the legs. Five matching chairs sat at the back.

I liked it.

"What do you guys think?" I peered over my shoulder, exchanging a look with each person standing behind me.

Devin, Stefan, Robert holding Leila, and the five members of the Urgency. Tyler Gurwicz, Ian Molla, Kevin Coffrin, Guerin Blask, Ryan Siegel. Everyone stood a step behind me, heads tilted in various directions, inspecting the setup.

“I rather like it,” Tyler gave his assessment. “It looks like an interview arrangement.”

“He’s right,” Robert agreed. “Looks like someone is getting ready to be interviewed. Shocking.”

“That’s because someone is.” Stefan surged forward through us and hurried underneath the tent. He found a piece of paper inside his equipment bag and held it up. While Devin was out of commission, he was the boss of everything.

I glanced at my best friend, standing beside Tyler and giggling at absolutely nothing. Stefan taking over was probably the best.

“Check list time!”

Oh, check lists. I hated them.

“First off, list of questions!”

And that had to be the first thing he said. I patted my back pocket, where I thought I remembered sticking it, but my pocket was empty. So. No. “Uh, is the question list over there, Stefan?”

He dropped to his knees and shuffled through the two bags on the ground. When he came back up again, he was empty handed. “No. Did you leave it on the RV?”

“I think so.” I cringed.

“Then go freaking get it!”

Damn question list. How did I forget the thing? It was a piece of black construction paper with white crayon scribbled on it. Stefan’s quick handiwork, having received the list via text message and had to put it down before his phone battery died.

It frankly looked like a kindergartner did it, let alone a twenty-three-old. I left it sitting on the dinette booth in our hurry to get out of the bus and back to our interview setup, out in plain sight. Why had I not just remembered it like any normal being would?

I wouldn’t have to be walking all the way back across the grounds, alone, with even more people moshing around and snapping pictures with their favorite band members. The one who never worried about what was going to happen and was never paranoid.

I wanted to be that Juliet again.

But how would I? I knew the starting point was to refuse to let the thought of Josh out and about worry me. That, however, needed at least a few days to mull around in my system before it started to take effect. I wasn’t curing myself of paranoia in five minutes, just because I decided to.

Nonetheless, first things first.

I looked up, raising my head high, and straightened to my full height. I tugged my hands out from my jeans pockets and mentally willed a burst of confidence to course through me. Though not as strong as I had hoped for, I felt a tiny trickle of something.

To a degree, it worked. I felt only a little better, but it was enough to get me to and from the bus. At least, I hoped so. Failure didn’t seem like such a good idea in the current moment.

Head still held high, I sauntered my high heeled feet across the grass covered ground. The cement parking lot, piled full of buses and the same groups of bands from earlier, grew ever closer with each step. And with each pace, my confidence felt more natural.

Or it was fading and I just couldn’t notice it. The latter thought frightened me quite a bit.

I pushed through, though. I was only walking to our bus, not going to war, yet that was what my mind made it out to be. Why? I knew -- subconsciously, at least -- that this wasn’t anything bad, but my fear that Josh was going to kill me had waned an hour or so ago, thanks to the barrier of friends I had.

Dammit. I didn’t like being alone.

With another deep breath, I stepped up onto the blacktop parking lot and listened to my heels click-clack all the way toward the furthest end. The more I advanced into the army of buses, the less people there were, disappearing altogether once I reached a solid red tour bus.

And it was quiet. With the hustle and bustle of the concert behind me, the lot sat in near silence all around me. I cringed. Wasn’t sure I liked this, either.

With feet that could only carry me so quickly, I slid around the corner of the next bus and approached forward, knowing our RV was not far off.

“--how much?”

Thank God. At least someone was around! The silence hurt somewhere deep in my stomach, but if people were around, the quiet would be lessened by just a bit. That was enough for me.

“However much you have.”

Max? I froze, my back gluing itself to the side of the nearest bus. Wasn’t he supposed to be at an interview? That’s what he told Robert…

I placed my hands on the warm metal of the bus and inched to the left, coming to the hood in only a few steps. I peeked around, scanning the area, and spotted two figures standing near Escape the Fate’s bus, which was parked further away from our RV than usual.

Max was leaning against the front grate, arms crossed over his black t-shirt, hard gaze set on the tall, thin man standing before him. Blonde hair swooped from the other man. He wore an oversized shirt and baggy pants.

“All of it?” And the man flipped his hair to the side, like a tic…Fuck. Fear coursed over my skin. Josh. It was Josh, talking to Max! Why the hell was he talking to Max?! Something inside me screamed out.

“Do you have the money?” Josh questioned, drawing my gaze back over to them. The money?

Again, Max nodded his head. Josh slipped his hand into his back pocket and pulled out with a thin, white coated bag placed between his index and middle finger. He held it out and Max slowly removed it, peering down at the object.

Josh dove back in, this time his front pocket, and pulled out a clear bag of white pills.

The realization of what they were doing hit me like a bullet.

Drugs.

Max was buying drugs from Josh. Cocaine and pills.

Several things occurred to me at once. This explained everything. Why he and Gabrielle looked so sick the day of the club visit, why Craig didn’t like some of the things Gabrielle was doing, how Max knew Josh on a personal basis, and how Craig knew Josh at all.

Craig must have known about it this entire time. How could he not tell me? How could any of the boys keep something as awful as this a secret from me for nearly two months?

I couldn’t take it. I turned and ran back, through the buses, passed the musicians. I sped pass the main stage, knocked through groups---

And came to a standstill halfway toward our tent. Devin and Stefan couldn’t find out about this.

Would Devin be convinced Max was a bad influence on my recovery? He wasn’t. He made everything seem perfect in our relationship, in everything. How did he hide it so well? Cocaine wasn’t exactly a small issue, nor a simple drug.

It was fucking cocaine. People overdosed every day the stuff; people died! Cocaine was a lot more disgusting than Ecstasy, more addicting, more dangerous. And my Max, the one I had idolized as something just short of a god for all of Warped, was addicted to it, buying it from the dealer I punched.

When did my life become a bad soap opera?

Glancing at the people around me, I wondered if any of them were Escape the Fate fans, still blissfully unaware that one of their heroes was a lying cocaine addict… and who knew what the pills were! They could be anything.

Pain pills.

I knew he and Ronnie had done a few rounds of whatever pain medication was on hand while they were still friends, but I thought Max overcame that broken that addiction. Did not he claim that to the press and fans?

Max was a liar. Of course. That’s what drug addicts did! Like Ronnie, like Josh.

Suddenly, my life felt… wrong. My angel wasn’t an angel at all, just one in disguise. He was no better than Ronnie in that aspect, the only difference being that he didn’t abuse me and he cared for me. He did care for me. Please, tell me he did care for me.

I thought back to the last kiss we shared, the way he held me so close to him. He loved me. He cared about me. He had to!

Tears pricked the corners of my eyes. This could all have been a lie. Every bit of it. The kisses, the make out sessions, every time he claimed to love me and miss me. Lies.

Head bowed, I began walking forward again.

I had the sudden urge to tear my eyes out. Had I not seen the drug exchange, none of this would be happening. Absolutely none of it. No doubts, I would still be walking around thinking Max adored me and was the best for me, convinced Devin was wrong in his assessment of otherwise.

I must have walked further than I thought because the tent was suddenly within eyesight. The Urgency sat in their chairs, Devin -- head lolled back -- looked like a corpse as he sat in the chair beside mine, and Stefan held the camera in his hands, messing with something on the back and laughing.

How would I face them? Devin was too loopy to notice anything, but Stefan wasn’t. Although he had a certain flair to realize when things were wrong, Devin had a tendency to notice when things were really wrong with me, things too deep for even I to talk about.

And if Stefan managed to notice, he wouldn’t force me to tell him and he would not utter a word to Devin until I was ready for both.

I reached the tent in seconds, but no one looked up. Slowly, I lowered myself into my director’s chair, shaking hands grabbing the arms tightly. I’m going to hurl, I just know it.

“Holy shit. Piper, are you okay?” Tyler questioned frantically. Wow. He didn’t even know me and he was freaked at how awful I looked. Just how bad did I look?

Stefan’s gaze slid over my face as he circled around the back of Devin’s chair to stand before he. He ran his hand over the side of my face. “What’s wrong?” he whispered.

“I -- I just feel… sick,” I fibbed. “All of a sudden. And I couldn’t find the question list. I’m really sorry, Stefan.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine.” Sympathy clouded in his eyes. “Listen, why don’t you go back to the bus with Robert and Leila, okay? I’ll look at the questions from my phone. We’ll be fine without you. Go lie down, please?”

“Okay.” As if I were going to object.

X X X X

When Robert and Leila lugged me back to the bus, neither Josh nor Max were anywhere in sight. The parking lot was thankfully void of sleazebags. I stayed inside the RV, curled up on the couch with Ghost pressed tight against my chest, fighting every part of me that wanted to cry.

But, I didn’t.

I remained in once piece up to when Stefan dragged a sad, loopy Devin back to the bus, and even when the boys returned back to their bus from their separate interviews. Robert left and Stefan put Devin to bed.

While Stefan went to the front of the bus with the laptop and equipment to begin editing, I decided something. Craig would have to know about what Max had been doing. And I needed to talk to him about it. Out front, no subtly whatsoever.

Wrapping myself in my jacket, I walked carefully over to the front of the bus and peeked through the curtains into the front seat. Stefan held the laptop on his lap, his expression reading nothing but concentration.

The camera and equipment bag sat on the passenger’s seat.

I blew out a long breath. “Stefan, I’m going over to talk to Craig for a minute. I’ll be back soon, alright?”

“Alright,” he said absently, clicking on the mouse pad rather roughly.

“Okay.” I slid back from the curtains and stepped down, one by one, of the steps, reaching out and swinging open the front door onto the darkness of the parking lot. The sun had gone down about fifteen minutes ago, but I knew for a fact that all the boys were still in the bus.

Before Robert left, he said they would be watching The Fast and the Furious movies with Leila, all of them, in a straight row. They would be there for hours.

I hopped out onto the blacktop, closing the door quietly behind me. Slowly, head bowed, I made my way through the buses lit only by the dim illumination of the streetlights placed strategically on the edges of the lot.

Since the sun had only just set, the final band on the main stage was playing. I couldn’t recognize who it was, or even who I thought it was. I could barely even hear them due to this strange feeling; it was like I had my hands pressed tight against my ears.

I hated it.

Maybe they needed to be popped. I swallowed hard, attempting to will it away. Nothing happened. Sadly, I was fully aware of what it was. Obviously a side effect of the day I had, and everything I hated about it.

So, my boyfriend was a druggie.

So, my boyfriend was a liar. Well, not a liar. He just failed to tell me something rather important. Was that lying, or withholding the truth? Either way, I was ticked and he should not have done it. If he had a problem, why couldn’t he come to me?

It was possible he didn’t trust me enough to tell me, in fear that maybe, just maybe, I wouldn’t love him anymore. It was a lie… I think. I couldn’t be blamed for this, any of this.

I was not sure I could go through another boyfriend that did drugs and broke hearts.

More specifically, my heart.

People, fans, friends, family - they could hate me if they wanted. But I couldn’t deal with it. Not if the truth was exactly what I thought it was. And certainly not if I saw a glimmer of Ronnie anywhere in Max.

My heart sank as I stopped in front of Escape the Fate’s tour bus. Am I really going to ask Craig if Max is on drugs?

I lifted my fist and knocked three loud times on the metal door.

Apparently I was.

Footsteps came barreling from the back of the bus to the front. I pressed my lips together and braced myself for whoever it was. In the event that it was Max, I had to keep my reaction calm and not burst into tears like a madwoman.

The door opened and I sucked in a sharp breath. Light poured down onto me and I glanced up to see Craig standing on the bottom stair, soft eyes looking down at me lovingly.

“Hey, Juliet.” He stepped down in front of me. “Robert told us you got sick. Are you feeling okay now?” His fingertips pushed a strand of hair from my forehead. “Because you so don’t look it.”

I pursed my lips. “No, I’m not okay.” My voice broke desperately. “I’m just not okay, Craig.”

Almost as if second nature, he opened up his arms and I threw myself into them. He pulled me close, protectively, and I sobbed, pressing my face into the shoulder of his shirt. What about Craig always brought my armor down?

No matter how big a wall I built, he never failed to make it crumble.

“Shh,” Craig breathed. His hand rubbed up and down my back. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Is Max doing drugs?” I out and said it. I got it off my chest. But I didn’t feel any better about it.

Craig gasped, grabbed my shoulders, and yanked me away from him, holding me out at arm’s length as shocked eyes surveyed my tear streaked face.

“How did you know?”

“I--” However, he didn’t let me finish.

“Max made me swear not to tell you.” Craig shook his head and glanced at the ground for a brief moment. “He didn’t want you to know about it--” He looked up, smiling. “He’s getting better, though. He’s been clean since the day you two fought.”

Since the day we began dating, in other words.

I met Craig’s gaze. He sounded -- and appeared -- so proud of his friend. I… I couldn’t tell him. I knew I should, because I knew firsthand how terrible it felt to be left in the dark, but how could I crush him?

He was supposed to be the one comforting me. Not the opposite way around.

But, I would tell him tomorrow, before we rented our hotel rooms. He deserved to know, just not right now. I didn’t have the heart to watch his expression shatter.

“Oh… okay.” My stomach roiled. Ew. For a split second, I just knew I was going to puke on his shoes… “I should probably go lay down. I feel sick again.”

“Yeah, you should. You don’t look too good.” Shocking, Craig. He patted my arm. “You want me to walk you back to your RV?”

“No, I think I can make it. Thanks anyway, though. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Juliet.”

I turned and began stalking away, arms gripping my stomach. I had solid proof that Max was addicted. Sure, I saw the exchange with Josh, but a part of me wanted to believe I made it all up.

I couldn’t have now that Craig solidified it all for me.

Amidst my walk, I broke into a jog, making it back to our RV in half the time. I tore open the front door, jumped up the steps, and nearly knocked right into a tired looking Devin as he stood at the front curtains.

I stopped just short of him.

He looked up and smiled. “Hi, Juliet. Did you have fun talking to Craig?”

“Uh… yeah.” He didn’t notice I had been crying? Thank God for coffee overdoses.

“Good.” He waved his hand in the direction of the back bedroom. “Can you come lay down with me? I can’t sleep and I’m lonely.”

“Okay.” I closed the front door behind me and followed him down the hall to the back bedroom, where the blankets were turned down and Ghost was placed on the floor at the foot of the bed.

Devin climbed in, and I joined after slipping off my jacket and kicking off my shoes. I snuggled close to my best friend.

So, my boyfriend was a druggie.

What was I going to do about it?