Thursday, February 26, 2015


Here is a special treat from the amazing author Natalie Barnes!!!
The Prologue for Everything I Need!!
Think you can wait any longer? I know I can't!!

**Before you read further, if you have not read Everything I Want do not read this yet!!! Seriously read Everything I Want first. CLICK HERE TO PURCHASE.**


I can barely open my eyes and my head is fucking killing me. Where the fuck am I? I take a slow look around at my surroundings; I guess I’m still alive and in some swanky suite. I’m lying across the length of the bed, with my legs bent and my feet planted on the carpet. I’m naked and my sweat is making the sheets cling to my body, smothering me. This room is dark with only the white static of the TV on for light.

Sitting up slowly, I let out a low grunt. Shit. I feel like I’ve just been hit by a fucking truck. Reaching for the end table, I grab the half; empty bottle of Jack and a couple of Vicodins. Well, maybe more than a couple, but I don’t fucking care. After popping them into my mouth, I chase the pills down with my Jack. My lips are dry, so dry that even opening my mouth to take the damn pills feels like my lips are going to rip open.

Tugging rest of the sheets off of me, I look down. I think I see hickeys all over my groin area; they’re mainly scattered over my upper thighs and lower abdomen. Fuck me. It looks like I have been attacked or something. To confirm my suspicion, I notice a Trojan wrapper, well . . . a few wrappers, scattered on the floor around me. 

Blowing out a long breath, I rub my face roughly with my hands. What time is it? I doubt it’s late because I would’ve had one of the guys calling me or coming in here to let me know that I overslept again. I can’t wait for this fucking tour to be over with. First thing, I have no fucking clue what city I’m in. They don’t speak English around here, anyways. And second, I’m over here suffering when Sophia is thousands of miles away from me, suffering herself.

I fucking hate myself for what I put her through. Then she had to lose Cory on top of it. Shit. I’m such a fucking asshole. But I’m still doing the exact same thing she knew I would be doing. But if she was mine, I wouldn’t waste my time with any whores. All I can think about is that one fucking mistake I made. How she looked standing in the doorway, watching me with some bitch I picked up that night because I was so high and pissed off at her for turning me down. My heart dropped when I saw her standing there and I realized through all of the haze of my buzz, what I did wrong. I’m a lowlife piece of shit, that’s for sure.

Leaning over the bed, I grab the remote for the iPod deck. I press play at whatever’s on. I don’t care; I might as well start right now. Being fucked up is the only way I can get through this goddamn tour. I make sure to turn down the volume of the music to give my head a chance for the Vicodin to take effect. Fucking figures . . . it’s “Gone Away” by Cold. Rolling my eyes, I’m getting ready to skip it, and then I decide to just keep it on. I might as well sulk into my mood.

Lying back against the headboard, I take another drink. My throat is already too numb to even notice the burn. I don’t know how long I lie there like this with Cold’s song on repeat when I hear a loud smash. What the fuck? Not being able to move, I faintly hear someone yelling. Is it Lux?  


Barely opening my eyes, I see him stomping over to the windows. He fists the drapes and swings them wide open, letting the sunlight pour in. Flinching at the sight, I hurry and cover my eyes with the back of my hand.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Tristan?” he shouts.

Ignoring him, I roll over to my side. I don’t want to hear his bullshit right now.

Really? You’re going to do this? I’ve just flown over five fucking thousand miles; ”

“That’s your fucking problem, not mine,” I cut him off. I wish I could scream at him, but my voice 

is barely able to come out of my body and all I produce is a gruff whisper.

“It smells like pussy and whiskey in here,” Lux says more to himself than to me, looking 

disgusted. A low cackle escapes my throat. He whips his head over to me with a shocked look on his face. “Jesus, put some fucking clothes on, will ya? And turn off that depressing music!” I can hear him slamming drawers, and then all of a sudden, I feel something thrown at my face. 

“Put these on and sit up! We need to talk.”

Rolling over to my back, I just stare at him. I think I see pity in his eyes. I don’t need his fucking pity. Humoring him, I sit up at the edge of the bed and slide my boxers on. When I’m done, I lie back down, bringing the Jack up to my lips again. Suddenly, I feel the bottle getting swiped from my hands.

“No more, Tristan. You’re getting yourself cleaned up.”

Rolling my eyes at him, I clear my throat. It feels like I have a huge fucking rock lodged in it.

“What, Lux?” Licking my lips real quick, I continue. “Did one of the guys call you up or 

something? I can take care of myself.”

Lux sits down at the foot of the bed and leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees and shaking his head slowly. Letting out a breath, he begins to speak again. But this time, he’s not yelling.

“They didn’t have to call me, Tristan. I hear it from the staff and I can fucking see it on TV.” He 
looks over at me. 

“I canceled rest of the tour. You guys are heading back right now. Either you check yourself into rehab or you go back out to Wyoming and clear your head. I don’t need to lose another good musician to this shit.” He waves the bottle of Jack in front of me. I know I should feel rage for him canceling my shows, but right now . . . I don’t really feel anything.

Lux gets up from the bed and wipes the front of his suit down with his free hand, stepping in closer to me.

“Tristan, please try to help yourself. When I feel the time is right. I’ll call you. Until then, get your shit together!”

He turns around and slowly starts walking out of my room but stops suddenly at the door and turns halfway around, back at me.

“Oh yeah, one more thing. If you don’t go into rehab, you better get your act together out in Wyoming, because if not . . . I’ll be there and I will make it hell on earth for you if you don’t.” He gives me one of his signature smiles and then quietly closes the door behind him.

So, I guess I’m done. Don’t have Sophia and now I don’t have my gigs. I hate everything right now, but I really wish I could hate her. It would make things so much fucking easier if I could. I don’t even give a shit if the rest of the guys are pissed at me. I’m at a low and I don’t know if I can get out of this. I’m such a pussy for letting a fucking female turn me into a pile of shit. But it’s her, thoughShe made me, for once, actually feel like I was alive. Music has always done that for me before, but without Sophia now, it feels like it’s just not enough.

Anyone else wanna say Holy Shit after that one?!?!?
I hope you enjoyed this little sample as much as I did!!
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1 comment:

  1. If the wait wasn't already killing me, now I'm going insane! Can't wait for the book to drop.