Driftwood Dreary (The Dead Rockstar Trilogy Book 3) by Lillah Lawson

Author:Lillah Lawson [Lawson, Lillah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Midnight Tide Publishing
Published: 2024-08-14T00:00:00+00:00

I woke up with the taste of sweet fried dough and salted watermelon in my mouth.

A hand was caressing my face. Wiping my forehead down with something cool and damp. It felt so good, and I was tempted to drift back off into the slumber I’d just returned from rather than deal with this latest catastrophe, the details of which were rushing back.

I opened my eyes slowly, carefully, since they were still partially sealed shut from my own tears. I didn’t even remember crying, but obviously I had. Phillip loomed over me, wetting my face with his handkerchief, dampened with a glass of cool water that he held in his other hand. The water sloshed over the glass. Phillip’s hand was trembling.

I smiled at him tenderly. “Phillip. I’m okay.”

He leaned down and planted the gentlest of kisses on my forehead. “I know you are, love. Or very soon will be.”

“You’re shaking.”

“Don’t worry about me,” he said. “I’m just rattled. You worry about yourself. How do you feel? Other than your head … and your leg … Do you have any other injuries? Anything else hurt?”

“My leg?”

“You got a pretty major gash on your left thigh,” he said, and then I remembered the slick of blood that had come off on my hand.

“I think that’s it,” I said, my voice a croak. I cleared my throat and tried again. “I mean, I don’t know, but I think so. My head really hurts. Bad. But other than that, I think I’m okay?”

“Benny’s going to set you right,” he said, gesturing to Benny, who stood behind him, a worried expression on his face. He brushed my cheeks with the cool cloth. “In just a minute.” He peered at me. “Do you remember? Everything from earlier?”

“Yes,” I said, staring back at him, wiping at my blurry eyes. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“For a minute there …” Phillip’s lip trembled. “For a minute there, you forgot some stuff. You forgot me.”

“I did?”

“Yeah.” He wiped at his brow. “Worst two minutes of my life.”

“What about Shank?” I asked, moving to sit up. Phillip’s large hand held me down.

“Don’t get up. Shank’s laying out there in back of the stage, dead as a fucking doornail,” he said matter-of-factly. “And good riddance to the fucker.”

“For real this time?”

“For real,” Phillip said. “Jamie checked the pulse. Nada.”

“This is gonna sound weird, but …” I took a shaky breath. “Does the name Colt Leather mean anything to you?”

A brief look of amusement passed across Phillip’s face. “Well, yeah,” he said. “He was in that shitty post-grunge band Necrofeelya back in the day. Well, till they kicked him out. I read recently he’d been getting up to some bad shit, not that I’m surprised. Why?”

“Did you two ever meet?”

Phillip thought. “Not that I recall. Though he did audition for the Bloomer Demons when I was gone.” He laughed. “Scared them clean off auditioning anybody else. Jason ended up doing the vocals for that album.” He looked at me strangely. “Why are you asking about that guy, Stormy?”

I started to move, but his hand was still pressed against my chest.

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