Series: Cobalt Empire Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 220
Estimated words: 215301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 861(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 215301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 861(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)
Tom. I feel myself smiling, then quickly frowning. I comb my hands through my hair again and watch Charlie cut a slice of honeydew. “There’s a bigger issue than my past,” I tell him.
“With Tom, I’m not surprised.”
“Can we redirect this energy then? Because your brother is on Adderall right now. And it’s not prescription.”
Charlie lets out a long, long laugh. “Of course he is,” he says dryly, then lets go of his fork, taking out his phone. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I don’t know how to get him to stop without hurting the band. I get it’s not coke or meth. But he’s taking it to stay awake during the tour. And our tour is likely going to be extended—”
“And he won’t stop,” Charlie finishes and puts the phone on speaker after dialing a number.
“Charlie Keating,” Tom says on the other end. “You calling to congratulate me?”
“Congratulations on being a pill popper.”
This is starting off great.
I chime in, “I’m in Charlie’s room,” and Tom replies tightly, “I’m coming up.”
55
TOM COBALT
The good news: the tour might be extended. The bad news: Phoenix told my oldest brother I’m taking Adderall. The worst news: Phoenix is more concerned about me than he is excited about possibly touring in Europe.
It floods me with pain I’ve never felt before.
He should’ve been elated. Like a shaking-me-awake type of happy. Like earlier when “Nuclear Winter” charted at ninety-four. The fact that he couldn’t celebrate because of me—it sucks.
I don’t join Phoenix, Charlie, or Oscar at the dining table. Though the buttered croissants look perfectly flaky and have my stomach grumbling.
I prefer to stand while I’m defending my case.
Charlie tousles his unkempt hair even more, yanking at the strands. “I asked you several annoying times if you were on something. And you said no. So you just repeatedly lied to me while I was following your band?”
“So you were following The Carraways to keep an eye on me?”
“Mostly to get out of New York.” Holy shit, I was right. “But Beckett was worried you’d start using coca—”
“I’m not doing coke,” I butt in. “Okay, this isn’t hurting the band. It’s helping.”
Except, Phoenix’s reddened eyes fix on the wall behind me, and I feel like I’m hurting him. Like this choice is a direct shot at my drummer, my boyfriend, the only guy I’ve ever…my thoughts swell as his unguarded, emotion-stricken eyes raise to mine.
It’s somehow easier facing Charlie. “I thought you could detect my lies,” I tell my brother.
He grimaces. “Because I’m a human lie detector.”
“Yes, you are,” I point out. “A very good one.”
More annoyance scrunches his face. “You knew this would all come out then.”
“Eventually….yeah, I guess.” I shrug, barely able to look at Phoenix.
Trying to justify the Adderall feels shaky, given my body is worn down from staying up most of last night—and maybe every night for the past month. I haven’t taken anything yet today. Not even a shot of espresso. There is a consistent hammer in the back of my skull that won’t let up right now.
I just think, Is this insomnia? Is this what he feels every day?
Phoenix braces his forearms on his thighs, his legs bouncing under him. “I love that you’re a perfectionist,” he tells me. “But Adderall worsens this beautiful thing about you. It gives you fucking tunnel vision. Which is good and bad.”
“I’m not disagreeing,” I say. “If the tour is extended, it might just be a few more months extra. That’s still not forever, dude.”
“A year taking Adderall?” Phoenix questions. “Then you might find another reason, Tom. There could be another project, another tour, more that you’re unwilling to let go of, and it keeps piling up. Then the stimulant doesn’t work anymore. So you need a higher dose or something stronger—”
“No,” I force out. “It won’t be like that.”
“Okay,” Phoenix says. He doesn’t believe me.
It’s just agonizing. I shift my weight, uncomfortable in my own body.
Charlie leans back in his chair. “Congratulations.”
I shoot him an unamused look. “You already congratulated me, Charlie Keating.”
“Not for being just like everyone else.”
My stomach cramps and my head goes heavy.
“You think you’re special?” Charlie asks with one arched brow. “You’re resorting to cheap tricks to stay awake. It’s what weak-minded college students do to pass midterms.”
“Like you haven’t taken Adderall,” I retort.
“I don’t hold myself to impossible standards. You, though?” He gestures a hand at me. “You’ve lowered yourself already. Your work ethic isn’t exceptional. You’re cheating like every other typical person who can’t handle everything.” He tilts his head to capture my gaze. “You’re ordinary.”
These words should not puncture.
Should not dig.
Should not cut or wound.
Yet, I can’t see in front of my face for a second.
“I’m calling Dad,” Charlie says flatly.
I snatch his phone fast. “I’ll talk to him without the audience. Thank you. Goodbye.” I hear my wooden voice, and I hustle quickly into the nearest bathroom.