The Biker's Fate Chapter 500

Train

"Coffee," Vick groaned like a zombie, dragging his bag behind him toward the hotel's continental breakfast bar. We were in Chicago, and I had quickly fallen in love with the city. Our hotel had a great view of the river and I hoped I'd get some time to explore the city a little.

Being a lifelong morning person, I'd already been up for several hours. I'd had my cup of coffee, worked out in the hotel gym, and showered. Melody was booked to play the Johnny Gordon show and was staying at a hotel closer to the TV studio. The band had a nine A.M. call time, which meant being in the lobby at seven thirty sharp. Most of the band had assembled and were waiting for our shuttle van to arrive.

"It's too fucking early," Andy said. "Don't these people understand we're musicians?"

"Wow," I said. "I don't think I've ever seen you in a bad mood before, Andy. You're always so…"

"Chipper," Rod said, dryly.

"That's it," I chuckled. "Chipper."

"That's because I usually get enough sleep," he replied.

"Sleep? What means this word, sleep?" Rod asked.

We were three quarters of the way through the tour, which showed in both good and bad ways. Good, because the band was functioning like a well-oiled machine. On stage, we were tight as a drum, and backstage, loose as a goose. This was the positive side of being on the road together. On the negative side, we were all getting a little burned out. Adrenaline and excitement could propel any one of us through any show, but the road eventually takes its toll on everyone. Mentally and physically.

"Good morning, everyone," Brandy said, approaching our sad pile of musicians. "The van to the TV studio should be here in less than ten minutes. I have itineraries and credentials for everyone. Where are Vick and Puddin'?"

"Vick's over there getting coffee," I said, motioning to the breakfast bar. "And Puddin' hasn't come down yet. Bill was runnin' down to Flick's to grab 'real' coffee for them. He left a few minutes ago."

"He probably overslept," Brandy said. "I'll go wake him up."

"Gimmie his room key and I'll do it," I said.

"You sure?" Brandy asked.

"I'm gettin' fat from the road. I'll take the stairs and burn a few extra calories. Besides, I've roomed with Puddin' before and he sleeps naked as a jay bird, and you don't need to see that shit this early in the morning."

"Alright, but hurry," she said.

As I jogged up the eight flights of stairs to Puddin's room, my thoughts turned to Melody. Whatever exhaustion and road wear the band was experiencing must pale in comparison to what she was feeling. I watched her night after night. Melody gave every ounce of herself to the crowd at every show, and yet still managed to give even more to me, her band, her fans, or anyone else who needed her. She was an amazing person and worked a shit ton harder than I could have imagined. I was glad the tour was going so well, and as tired as I was, was not looking forward to the final show. Mostly because I was afraid that the end of tour might mean the end of the road for Melody and me.

My lungs burned and my legs ached as I reached the eighth floor. Opening the door to the hallway I made my way to room 883 and knocked.

"Puddin', it's Train. You awake?" I called through the door but got no answer. I knocked again, this time a little louder. "Hey, Puddin'. C'mon, man. Everyone's downstairs. We're waiting for you." Still no answer, so I entered the key card into the door slot, calling out as I slowly opened the door. "Hey, sleepyhead. Rise and shine, brother."

I entered the darkened room and turned on the lights to find Puddin's bed still made, and completely empty. It was clear he hadn't slept here last night, and I wondered if he'd hooked up with someone after the show and ended up back at their place.

I had to let Brandy know right away that Puddin' was missing in action, so I pulled out my cell phone, and that's when I saw the reflection of one of Puddin's boots in the corner of the bedroom mirror. It was sticking out of the bathroom doorway, toes pointing to the ceiling. As I moved closer to investigate, I saw the boot was not empty.

Puddin' was lying on the bathroom floor. He was shirtless and his eyes were wide open. His skin was ice blue, and he was completely motionless. His left arm was tied off with his belt. The syringe that delivered the deadly dose still dangling from it.

Melody

If pain is measurable, then the feeling just beyond absolute pain is numbness. The inky void where feelings no longer exist. A self-preservation mode that cannot, and will not, last forever but instead serves as a temporary refuge to those whose hearts have been shattered into a million pieces. This is where I was.

Train and I sat silently in a far corner of the reception hall. Puddin's assorted friends and co-conspirators had gathered after the funeral and were busy swapping road stories and toasting to his memory. It's what he would have wanted, but I wasn't at a place where I could celebrate his life, when I felt responsible for his death.

I'd spoken a few words at the service, at the request of Puddin's family but I barely remember what I said. I know I mentioned how happy he was to have reconnected with his daughter. She'd flown in from London, but I could barely look her in the eyes. I felt I'd let Puddin' down and now she was without a father.

There must have been signs that he was using again. How could I have missed them? I played every conversation we'd had since the start of the tour over and over in my mind until I was delirious. I was probably too wrapped up in my own happiness to notice any cries for help.

We cancelled the next eight shows, and I was mentally prepared to axe the rest of the tour. I couldn't imagine going back on that stage, looking to my left and seeing some stranger standing where Puddin' should be.

"Can I get you anything to eat?" Train asked.

I shook my head. "I'm not hungry."

"You have to eat something, baby," he said, tenderly.

"I will in a bit. I promise," I said, but I was lying. I wasn't hungry. Hunger required pain, and I wasn't in pain. I was in the void. Train had been an absolute rock during all of this, but I knew he was also in pain. "Did you eat?"

"Yeah, honey, I ate," he said.