Free Echoes in the Wind by Debra Jupe

gave his gut several hard thrusts. The blockage finally broke free. He spit the grit into the commode, and then dissolved into a choking fit.
    “You okay?”
    Eric looked up.
    Blaine stood in his bathroom doorway. His expression appeared wary as he studied Eric. “Sounds like you’re dying in here.”
    Eric swallowed, hacking a “Yeah, I’m fine,” and sat back onto the floor.
    Blaine leaned against the frame and crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re doing better than me, mate.”
    “I meant I’m not dying from the overload of antacids I tried to inhale.” He reached to a rack above his head, ripped the towel away from the bracket, and swiped it over his mouth. “If you’re asking me if I’m okay from the ass-kicking we’ve just discovered from our visit with Finn, then no, I’m no good at all.” He wadded the towel into a ball and flung it across the room. “Please tell me Finn is playing one of his sick jokes.”
    Blaine gave a shrug followed by a heavy sigh. “I wish.”
    “I don’t understand how we were so stupid.”
    “Don’t know either.” Blaine rubbed the back of his neck and stared at Eric. He appeared to be in a dazed fog. “But we were.”
    “You say it almost too easy.”
    “To be truthful, this news has stunned me. Once Finn accused us of taking his money, my gut told me something was up. Only I didn’t think things would be this bad. The realization hit me probably ’bout the same time you figured the problem out too. I couldn’t breathe. My chest got tight. I was scared I’d pass out.” Blaine’s skin flushed from the memory. “Sorry I left you on your own, but I needed out of there. The tension filled Finn’s house the moment we stepped inside. Seemed to get worse the longer we stayed. I’m surprised you hung around as long as you did.”
    Blaine was right. The pressure was high when they arrived. Finn expected them to not only apologize for their behavior toward him during their final performance, which they did, but he also wanted the two to write him a check to return funds he was sure the band had stolen from him throughout his span with the group.
    Which they had not. After calming Finn down, they convinced him they hadn’t taken his money. To help him out, the men spent several hours assessing the shape of his accounts, and then they examined his income. They realized Finn was correct. The compensations he should have been paid for his time as lead singer of Raging Impulse wasn’t there.
    “I tried to quiet Finn a bit, although Richard being ’round didn’t help the situation. I hate that guy.” Eric shook his head. “He despises me too.”
    “I think he dislikes all of us, including his own brother.” Blaine nodded. “Finn’s an ass, whereas Richard is scum. I can’t believe we kept him around for as long as we did.”
    “If he wasn’t such a spineless perv, I’d suspect him of working for Dugan.”
    “You mean as his hit man?” Blaine bit his bottom lip. “Yeah, I could believe that.”
    “But I don’t think Richard’s our problem. We have to deal with the fact Finn is now our ally. I’m not sure that’s a good thing. Anyway, after I left him, I took the long way home by walking the beach. I wanted to clear my head. Maybe come up with some ideas on how to fight this.”
    Eric did his best to put away his reflections of Darla Hennessy. The mention of his trip home brought on a rush of memories of her. He needed to get this woman out of his head. There were too many other issues to deal with right now. He rose from the bathroom floor and walked into his room. Blaine trailed close behind.
    “I don’t understand,” Eric seethed. “We are the highest selling teen band of all time. Twelve number one records plus seven top-selling albums. We were on the road almost every day for eight years. Our concerts sold out, including standing room only. The T-shirt and merchandising sales alone should’ve made us enough money to retire on and live