"You have my permission to wake me up like that every damn day, got it?"

"Don't tempt me, Lola," he growls.

"Promises, promises," I tease.

After the band meeting last night, we talked for hours while the rest of the band went out to celebrate our new plan of action. Wanting a little more privacy than what we could get at my dads' place or on the boat -- his parents' West Coast racing yacht, as it turns out -- we ended up at the lot where the band's bus is stored. Strictly speaking, overnight guests aren't allowed, but a $20 bill slipped to the night watchman ensured we wouldn't be evicted.

As much as I wanted to jump his bones right then and there, we had a lot to work out first. For starters, what he was doing with his ex the other day.

As it turns out, Drax wasn't expecting Shelby to show up with his parents. They arranged that without his knowledge, and he wasn't thrilled about it. Seeing her in Las Vegas only confirmed his belief that she'd done him a favor by dumping him back in the day. In fact, after I saw him in the Mission that night, he told her there was no future for them, even if they both ended up in New York. And now that everyone is on board with the Route 666 Tour, New York is off the table.

I also shared my concerns about losing myself to the lifestyle and that, if he wanted to be with me, he had to be with Lauren, not Lola. "Who do you think I fell for?," he asked, then guided me to the bedroom and made love to me all night.

And this morning.

Snuggling into the crook of his neck, I breathe him in. It's a heady mix of cloves and sex that gets my motor purring. Even after a passion-filled reunion last night, and this morning's sunrise edition, I still can't get enough of him.

Lazily, I skim my hand along the hard planes of his back, down to his tight rump. I've never touched an ass that firm before -- I've only touched one other one, and it was less-than-impressive -- and I can't seem to stop. I could touch him forever and never grow tired of it.

When he twitches against my thigh, I twitch inside. I know guys usually require some time to recoup but I can't wait. It's a primal need, something deep down that demands to be claimed by him immediately.

Skimming around to the front, my fingers wrap around his girth. I search out his lips for a soul-deep kiss while I squeeze and release and pet and stroke, urging him to hurry up already. It's working.

Breaking away, he looks at me in a daze. "Again? I had no idea you were such an animal."

"Shut up and fuck me."

"Yes, ma'am!"

My phone buzzes on the tiny nightstand, drawing me out of my nearly-catatonic, post-sex drowse. I fumble for it and almost drop it before punching the right glowy thing on the screen.

"Hmm?" I'm too drained to care how unprofessional it sounds.

It's Savory, and he doesn't sound happy. "Jake's been arrested."

That sure as hell wakes me up. "What?!"

"I guess he got trashed and made a mess of some bar after I left him last night. The cops were called and he's in the drunk tank now. They said he'd be ready to pick up about now."

"Shit! How much damage?"

Drax stirs next to me.

"I've already talked to the bar owner. He agreed to not press charges or send us the repair bill if we comp him a show."

I let out a sigh of relief. The band doesn't have much in the coffers and we'll need every penny to get the new tour rolling.

"But, Lauren, this has become a problem. Something needs to be done."

He's right, of course. Jake is out of control. He's a nice guy, but I've always been a bit disgusted by his drinking. I guess it just hits too close to home.

Savory tells me where to collect Jake and rings off. Drax is fully awake by now so I give him all the dirty details and we come up with a plan. Three hours later, we're all on the boat, poor Jake looking like death and smelling even worse.

"We can't have it, Jake," Savory is saying. "We need to be able to rely on you and, right now, we can't."

"I'm fine, guys," he insists but it's easy to see that even he doesn't believe his own words.

"Jake, I've found a good place that we can take you today."

The look he gives me breaks my heart and disgusts me at the same time. It's sort of a 'Don't do this to me, I want to keep killing myself slowly' look. I've never understood how someone could destroy themselves so completely and do it so willingly.

"But..."

"Jake," Drax interrupts. His expression is hard but his tone is gentle. "It's either rehab or you're gone. Your choice, bro."

Jake gapes at him. "You'd really fire me? What the fuck, man? We're fuckin' musicians! You know, rock n' roll and all that? It's not like you have a reputation for acting like Mary-fucking-Poppins!"

Drax shakes his head. "And it's about time we all grow up and start acting like professionals."

"What about the tour?" Jake asks, grasping at straws.

"We'll wait for you, dude." Savory pats him on the shoulder.

"But who's gonna pay for it?" His arguments are getting weaker and weaker. "I don't got that kinda money."

"Don't worry, bro, it's taken care of," Drax says.

Contrary to my previous assumption, Drax is no starving artist made good. He had family money, and a lot of it. Not only did he pre-pay Jake's 28-day stay at the exclusive in-patient rehab, but he also paid for Frank's, as well as a gigantic diamond wedding ring. When I asked him this morning why he didn't just pay off Marco, he pointed out that bookies don't usually take credit cards.

"But..." Jake mumbles.

"Dude, you woke up in jail this morning, ferchrissakes," Frank says, wrapping a comforting arm around his friend's shoulders. "You have a problem. You gotta admit that, at least."

Jake sniffs and ducks his head. "Yeah."

"That's the first step, right there, bud! Now Drax and Lauren are gonna drive you up to the place, m'kay? We'll see you in a month, and you better be ready to rock, you got it?"

Jake smiles weakly. "Okay."

The poor guy sobs quietly in the back seat the whole way up to the rehab center my dad recommended. Drax tries to give him encouragement but Jake's too wrapped up and wiped out to hear much of anything. It's touching to see how much Drax cares for his bandmate. A lot of guys would have just fired the kid, but Drax is putting him through a pricey rehab.

My stomach knots up as we get closer to the facility. I've never been to this one but I've seen enough to know they're all pretty much the same. Some are fancier than others but they all serve the same noble, if often futile, purpose. Growing up, I learned to hate them all for their failure in curing my mother. It was a heckuva lot easier to hate the institution than to hate the patient.

Although that came, too.

I shake away the painful memories as we pull up to the facility's main entrance. It's a beautiful Greek revival building, complete with ivy growing halfway up the brick walls. The landscaping is perfect and the overall tone is serene.

Stepping out of the car, I catch quiet snippets of classical music outside. If I didn't know any better, I might be lulled into thinking everything was going to be okay. It seems to work on Jake because he's stopped sobbing and seems almost eager to get inside.

I'm itchy with bad memories. Drax senses my mood and entwines his fingers in mine. I draw strength from them, from him, and we follow Jake inside. The lightest hint of lavender is in the air, no doubt pumped into every room to help calm the patients. It does little to calm me, but I'll be out of here very soon anyway.