Good Home Cookin': A Novel of Horror Read Free

Enough to know that I
fucked up royally. I’m sorry guys, really,” he looked at each one
in turn. “I swear on my life, no more drinking during shows. I’ll
get my act together!”
    The other three exchanged glances that
spoke volumes of their doubt. This was probably the fifth, maybe
sixth, time that they had heard this same promise presented with
the sad, pleading eyes. The problem was it was an empty promise
that carried no weight.
    “ Look, Dylan, we’ve known
each other for going on six years. I love you like a brother but
your promises just don’t mean shit anymore. The last four shows we
weren’t even able to finish out the set. That leads to
disappointed, angry fans which then turns into low record sales
because we can’t live up to their expectations. I’m not okay with
that man. Our fans deserve a decent show.”
    As Rob was talking, Dylan’s eyes roved
back and forth among them, seeking but not finding any sympathy.
The smell of the food on the table brought up conflicting pangs of
hunger coupled with a wave of nausea.
    “ This third album has the
potential to raise us to new heights and really put us on the map.
Don’t you want to play sold out shows with thousands of screaming
fans chanting our names?”
    Dylan nodded slowly but words wouldn’t
come. His tongue was thick and dry. Swallowing painfully, he
croaked, “You know I do.”
    Jerry leaned forward intensely, “Then
prove it!”
    Digging into his biscuits smothered in
gravy, Gary said, “You’re one talented son of a bitch, but you’ve
got to slow down and take it easy on the partying and drinking
side. We’re all for having a kick ass time, but know your
limits.”
    Dylan put his hands on the table in
front of him and took a breath. Previously, he would nod his head
and just agree before sweeping it under the rug and forgetting
about it. Their faces and tones of voice didn’t allow for that this
time. They were seriously considering letting him go if he didn’t
shape up. He motioned at the cup of ice water on the table and Rob
nodded. Taking a drink, he gathered his thoughts before
speaking.
    “ Give me one last chance.
Please! We’ve got another show tonight in Miami. I’m sober now and
will not have a drop of alcohol at the show, I swear to God. If I
mess this up in any way, I’ll leave the band. You have my word,”
Dylan said, putting his hand out towards the center of the
table.
    After a few painful seconds of waiting
on Dylan’s part, Rob placed his on top, and the other three soon
followed. This would be turning over a new leaf for Dylan. The show
in Tampa had ended in disappointment and shame… Miami was going to
be blown away by their performance. He just knew it in his
gut.
     
     
     

Chapter 4
     
    The engine purred to life as Dylan
prepared to leave the hotel and start the next leg of their tour.
Following a hot shower and shave, he felt remarkably clear. He
considered himself more than lucky that the guys hadn’t pulled the
plug on everything back in the restaurant. Dylan racked his brain,
trying to remember when he’d last performed a show completely
sober… nothing came to him. Maybe he did have a problem.
    Shaking his head brought on a twinge
of pain in his head. Leaning his head back against the head rest, a
conversation poked its head out of the fog he once called his
memory. From his pocket came a joint he’d stashed away last
night.
    “ I know how you are Dylan.
I’m so happy for you and the band, but be careful.”
    Natalie, Dylan’s sister,
was four years older and knew him better than anyone else could
claim. Since he was fifteen, he’d been sneaking liquor and beer
from their father’s stash. She was concerned about what being on
the open road, the freedom to do whatever, and alcohol being handed
to him on a daily basis, free of charge, would do to
him.
    “ Come on Natalie. I’m not
that bad, and I know my limits. Don’t worry, everything’s gonna be
great. You’ll see when we get