Free Ross 03 Leave Me Breathless by Cherrie Lynn

five-piece was missing. He dropped into an empty seat and assumed the same sullen position as most of the others, arms crossed, mouth turned down.
    Yeah, so even when he wasn’t pulling a months’-long disappearing act, it was often hard for him to find time to devote to the band because of his work, and the guys gave him shit about it. But Brian needed him, and he didn’t like letting Brian down. Gus, the other guitarist and his musical counterpart affectionately known as Little G to his Big G, often found it difficult to find time to devote to the band because he was off somewhere getting high.
    “I guess no one’s heard from him?”
    No one had to ask who he meant. Heads shook in slow unison. “Couldn’t even reach him,” Randall said, rubbing his eyebrow ring the way he always did when he was worried. “I texted him earlier but didn’t get a reply.”
    Ghost had received similar results. Mark bolted from his chair and paced a few steps away, a mass of nervous energy as he scrubbed his hands on his jeans. Onstage, that energy made the guy explode. Offstage, it sometimes made him hard to handle. “So fuckin’ sick of this bullshit.”
    “What bullshit? So he wasn’t sitting on top of his phone today. We did kind of put this together last minute, you know.”
    “Quit making excuses for him. It’s always this way with him, and you know it.”
    “The guy’s got a problem, Mark.”
    “That’s not my problem, is it? But I’ll tell you what is. The gig we have next month. The fact that one of our guitarists might be lying dead in a ditch for all we know, and the other has more important shit to do.” His narrowed gaze landed directly on Ghost.
    Aw, hell no. “Yeah, I did have more important shit to do. Way more important than you even know. But I can always go do more of it, if all I’m going to do is sit here and listen to you bitch.”
    “So that’s how it is?”
    “Yeah, that’s how it is.”
    “We can’t play without Gus, anyway,” Eddie said, slowly twirling the drumsticks he held in both hands. “What’s the point?”
    “The point is we need to replace him.” It was the statement from Mark they’d all known was coming for a long time. Grim looks exchanged among the others.
    Sighing, Ghost pulled his cell phone from his pocket. He dialed Gus, not expecting much and not getting it, either. His voice mailbox was full. “While all of you sit around moaning about what’s gonna happen to the band, has anyone thought about, you know, going to find him?”
    “Why bother? Even if he’s home, he’s gonna be too messed up to play. He can’t function when he’s on that shit.”
    “Yeah, well, glass houses and all that,” Ghost muttered. Mark sure wasn’t in any position to throw stones. The only difference between Mark and Gus was that Mark could function when he was high.
    He stood and shoved his phone back in his pocket. “Not that I wouldn’t love to sit around and stare at y’all’s ugly mugs all night, but I’d rather do something productive. I’ll go find him.”
    “For what ?” Mark raged.
    “I’m going to tell him if he’s not here and straight Saturday night, he’s getting bounced.”
    “He’s had way too many chances—”
    “Agreed?” Ghost’s voice overrode Mark’s as he looked around at the other guys. “Last time I checked, this wasn’t a dictatorship.”
    Randall and Eddie nodded, their gazes fixed warily on Mark. Mark huffed and turned his back for a second, then whirled back around. “You’re wasting your time on him. I can have someone else here with one phone call.”
    Yeah, I bet you could. It was a commonly held belief that Mark would love to have his little brother positioned at the other end of the stage from Ghost and would jump at any chance to get him up there. The kid had talent, but Ghost had way more respect for one of the founding members of this group, even if the guy was having some issues.
    “See you Saturday, then.” Ghost slammed his