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It just wasn’t fucking fair I shouldn’t have been the one to walk away

“Sage,” Jacob was trying to get my attention I blinked a few tieline had introduced the her pale one fir There was so so mistrustful in her eyes, but deceit was easy to come by in an industry where you could fuck your way to faeline had a job to do in more ways than one

I looked to Jacob and was iwith infinite i Maybe in his weird, quasi-supernatural way, Jacob could see whereon my face Either way, he didn’t approve

“Yeah?” I replied as Tricky deftly reached down to the carousel and pluckedfrom it like a sack of feathers Jacob took it fro me a quick look

“Angeline ondering if she can take us all out for dinner,” Jacob went on I looked to her, and under the harshness of the airport lights, I had the distinct impression that every expression that came across her pretty face was all precalculated A queer feeling to have but nothing new for me

“That’s fine,” I said, though dinner was the farthest thing from my mind I just really wanted to crawl into o to sleep, and not wake up until this whole thing was over

Fucking brilliant frame of mind to be in First solo tour—in Europe—and I was

“Sage,me hard on the back, “try to show some enthusiasm for the beautiful lady here”

I turnedh enthusiasm for both of us later on

“Well, now that you have your luggage and your ride, Paris awaits,” Angeline said, flicking her wrist toward the doors leading out of the airport

We followed her sharp little Marilyn Monroe walk out into the pick-up area, where a ton of funny-looking cabs and giant black Town Cars were all vying for space, honking like their lives depended on it Even though the sky was a heavy, even grey, I pulled my shades down I just wanted to protectheadache that I could feel coo down

I was bombarded with bodies

Jacob, Tricky, and I were halfway to a white li triumphantly beside when people surrounded et a glimpse of the individual faces within the crowd—mostly males in their teens and early twenties with soe” in a French accent, along with a bunch of other shit I couldn’t understand They waved the albu with their pens and markers Some had T-shirts A few had Hybrid merchandise I tried not to look at those pieces

“Everyone step back!” Jacob booer and in better shape, but Jacob had a way ofpeople listen to him Before I learned he used to be immortal, I chalked it up to his fists and a pocketknife Now I had to wonder if he didn’t have trace residues of Hoodoo in him

The crowd backed up reluctantly, but they didn’t shut up and they didn’t stop waving their stuff at me I knew I should have felt flattered by all of this, but I was just overwhelmed and shaken to the core All these people were here to seeairport All of them For me And why? How? It just didn’taround after the show by the back door, loitering quietly in the alleyways But this…I was completely unprepared

“Sage!” one young girl with a severe haircut squeezed past Jacob and thrust her Hybrid T-shirt into my hands It was obvious she’d never worn it; it hite and in showrooot Robbie and Mickey to sign it, but she never saw you”

I stared down at the shirt Mickey’s signature still looked fresh, and I felt like I had been kicked straight in the gut He was dead and I was here

I absently scrawledon the crowd aroundout their cries This tour was awas a mistake

“Co at everyone to back off and that I’d see theht over to the limo and thrust me into the backseat, which seline slid in afterlass

“Easy now,” Jacob warned, but there was no stopping ulp I know I’d been a rock star before, but I had never felt it like this Hybrid’s faroup as a whole We dealt with it as it caot really weird, whether with crazy fans or super groupies (the demonic GTFOs, or “Get the Fuck Outs” as we called theot the fan raphs, the perks, and the downfalls of fame He shouldered it all and had done it well

Noas in Robbie’s role I was the rock star And everyone wanted piece of oods

By the tier wanting sleep Angeline tried to point out the sites tooff the Eiffel Tower and the Louvre and the Arc de Triomphe and a whack of other places with frou-frou naoing, to enter the land of “I don’t give a shit” and “come back later”

Luckily the reeted me at the airport wasn’t here Apparently our limo driver took a few detours in order to lose any possible paparazzi, and I was checked in at the hotel under the name Mr Underhill I let Jacob handle all the paperhile I tookupstairs to my rooht (they liked to eat late here) and until then I just needed ti to handle all of this

Because suddenly, as I gazed out of the ith a bottle of the finest French charey streets withtourists and the rows of si lower than a fat man’s balls, it finally hit uilt and unworthiness and had found a ripe new fruit to feast on—the fact that I had no fucking idea what I was doing

None

The shows I’d played in the States before this—that was nothing A few appetizers before the main course Noere all the way on another continent, just uitarist and a keyboardist I had yet to meet and new roadies and sound techs and whoever the fuck else that would be joining us on the tour I had a voice that was feeling rough and apparently legions of fans who actually gave a fuck Who actually expected so from me This wasn’t America, where people watched you politely for a few moments while you opened up for The Band This was the place where I had the chance to fall—to fail—all over again

I took a long swig from the bottle and plopped backward onto the bed I could feel the jet lag creeping towardto pull me under I had to resist I had the dinner I had to stay awake

“Sage,” a voice called out, sweet and clear, like a meadow brook

I didn’t think much of the voice I often heard voices Usually they were screa in my mind