Fractured Beat (Meltdown Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page B

Twenty floors later the doors opened and we quickly exited the elevator. After a perfectly executed escape we would normally be high fiving each other but not today. Today I felt like an intruder. Two weeks ago I walked onto that stage in Houston at the top of my game. Now I felt like a stranger in a world I’d created. I’d had plenty of time to stew while in rehab. Disappointment and regret had become my closest friends. Add those to the heavy cloud of betrayal hanging over my head and I was wallowing in some pretty fucked up head space.
    “Master’s on the right,” Sampson said, once we’d reached the penthouse doors. I waited for him to insert the key and open the door for us. With a nod of thanks I headed straight for my room.
    “Grant,” Chaz called out.
    Fuck you . You should have talked to me in the car . Without a backward glance I closed the door and locked it behind me. As quickly as I could get them off, I stripped the clothes from my body and made a mental note to add them to the pile flagged for the incinerator. When I stepped inside the bathroom and discovered the huge multicolored tile shower with three shower heads spanning the back wall, I smiled. For two weeks I’d been taking shit showers. I’m talking high school gym showers with see through curtains and lukewarm water. Stepping inside, I turned on all three shower heads and groaned when the water flowed across my skin. Once I’d scrubbed the past two weeks off my body with lemon scented soap and scalding hot water, I sunk to the shower floor and cried like a baby. For the thousandth time I asked myself the same question: How did I get here?
    That night I pulled the pillow over my head, closed my eyes and for the first time in two weeks, I slept soundly.
    The next morning I was awakened by someone banging on the bedroom door.
    “Come in!” I shouted.
    “It’s locked!” Blane called through the door.
    I must have forgotten to unlock the door before crashing last night. With a sigh, I threw off the covers and went to unlock the door. Blane walked in before I made it back to the bed.
    “You know, there are clothes in the drawers,” he dryly commented. Glancing down at my naked junk I smiled. At least some things hadn’t changed. Fucking homophobe . In the past I might have cared that my bare ass bothered him but not anymore. Blane could fuck off if he didn’t like it. Just to piss him off I made a show of slowly bending over and flashing him my nuts before crawling back into bed.
    “Glad to have you back,” he grimaced. “Dr. Whitfield said you adapted well to rehab.” Dr. Whitfield was the director of the rehab facility and my lovely therapist Nancy’s boss. I spoke with him two times during my stay, once upon arrival and once the day I left. Even though he never said it, Dr. Whitfield knew I didn’t belong there. Nancy sure as hell knew it and so did Blane, the fucker.
    I stared unblinkingly at Blane and waited for him to squirm. It didn’t take very long. Blane was good at business but shit at everything else. Knowing full well what his answer would be, I asked the question anyway. “Did you contact the police?”
    “And tell them what, exactly, Grant? There were at least twenty people in your dressing room that night, half of whom we’d never seen before.” His put out tone pissed me off. I was the one who’d just spent two weeks locked away, not him.
    “Yes, and one of those twenty people dosed my drink with enough Oxy to kill me, Blane. You promised to look into it while I was rotting in that place, or did you forget?” Patience was not my strong suit, especially when it came to incompetence.
    “I remember, but need I remind you this isn’t the first time I’ve had to pull you out of a mess concerning drugs. We all agree you’ve been somewhat out of control lately and, if you ask me, the time off is exactly what you needed.” I knew he’d throw the Ecstasy incident in my face, I just didn’t know when. The first