Till the Last Lyric Read online M. Robinson (Life of Debauchery #2)

Categories Genre: Angst, Contemporary, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Life of Debauchery Series by M. Robinson
Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 69309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)

Read Online Books/Novels:

Till the Last Lyric (Life of Debauchery #2)

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

M. Robinson

Book Information:

From Wall Street Journal & USA Bestselling Author M. Robinson, comes a rock star contemporary romance filled with angst and all the feels.
Once upon a time… There was a little girl who believed in fairy tales and happily ever afters.
Hoping. Praying. Waiting…
For her prince to come. Together they’d conquer the world. Slaying dragons, demons, and villains. Until her Prince Charming let his demons prevail. She cried and begged and prayed.
She hated him. She loved him. She couldn’t save him.
“I’m sorry.”
“I love you.”
Were five words she despised more than anything. Her fairy tale had become her worst nightmare.
She didn’t know how much more she could take. She didn’t know love could turn into hate.
There were so many things she didn’t know. Especially, how to tell him, “No.”
Books in Series:

Life of Debauchery Series by M. Robinson

Books by Author:

M. Robinson

Chapter 1

“If you stand for nothing you’ll fall for anything.”

-Bob Dylan


Now: Thirty-years-old

“Mmm...” I groaned in my sleep. My head fuckin’ pounded to its own beat, feeling as though my brain was about to explode. “Mmm...” I moaned again, trying to get my eyes to open to no avail.

Rapidly, they fluttered a mile a minute until they finally won the battle against my scrambled mind. I willingly shoved away the sleepy haze and took in my surroundings. A cold, dark abandoned warehouse was the only thing in my sight.

How the fuck did I get here?

I sat up from the grimy, disgusting, worn-out mattress I was apparently sleeping on and grabbed ahold of my throbbing skull as if it would magically make the discomfort disappear. The smell of piss, shit, and God knows what else assaulted my senses.

Filth everywhere.

Walls covered in graffiti decorated every corner of the piece of shit building. Piles of trash, infested rats, and ghostlike junkies who appeared dead laid dormant around me.

What the fuck?

I was Cash Motherfuckin’ McGraw, waking up with drug addicts like I was one of them. The last thing I remembered was feeling no pain, exactly the way I wanted. If only I could feel the same way all the time. Maybe then I wouldn’t find myself in circumstances like these, wishing I’d used better judgment.

Goddamn it.

I needed to get back to the tour bus.

To my bandmates.

To Journey.

My June.

I stood, stumbling to find my footing to remain upright. I was dizzy, tired, fuckin’ restless to the bone. Every sentiment hit me tenfold and blinded the hell outta me.

What did you do, Cash? What the fuck did you do?

My sunken eyes wandered down to where I was laying, taking in the pipe and needle on the dingy floor.

Oh, God ... please no.

Instantly, I rolled up the sleeves of my hoodie, desperately searching for the track marks on my arms. Breathing out a huge sigh of relief when I saw no such thing existed. I threw off my shoes next to check my toes.


I didn’t stop there. I inspected every inch of my body where I could have possibly shot up, coming up clean.

Thank fuck.

I was known to be careless, but the last thing I wanted was to share needles with these fuckers. Especially now that Journey was in my care. I made a mental note to get tested anyway, for her.

With one foot in front of the other, I walked outta this hellhole. Tossing a few hundreds to the woman who was alone.

“Thank you! Oh, my goodness, thank you! You’re an angel!”

“I’m no such thing,” I replied to her. “Don’t spend it all on drugs. Get yourself some fuckin’ food.”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “Are you Cash Mc—”

“No.” Throwing the hood over my head, I quickly left. Flying outta there faster than a bat outta hell. I called Beck from my cell phone.

“Where the fuck are you?” he answered in a sharp tone.

“Not a fuckin’ clue.”

“Vince is going to fucking murder you,” he roared, referring to our manager.

“Vince can suck my dick.”

“Yeah, Tony’s going to love that,” he added, talking about the CEO of our record label.

“They work for us, Beck. Not the other way around.”

“Jude! How the fuck do I use my phone to find him again?!”

“Shhh! You’re gonna wake up Junie!”

“Oi! She’s what you’re worried about, you prick?!”

“Beck, I mean it. Shut the fuck up!”

“She went to sleep like three hours ago. Trust me, mate, I’m not going to wake her. She was waiting up for your arse, but I made her go to bed.”

She was?

My unsteady hands tugged the hair away from my face, holding it behind my head. “She pissed?’

“No, you wanker. She’s fucking thrilled. Shitting rainbows and Skittles. Loves the fact you ran away and now we can’t find you.”

“Found him,” Jude interjected. “Why the fuck are you there?”

“Don’t ask. Just get here.”

I hung up, slipping my phone into my pocket to tend to my splitting headache. Taking a seat on the curb, I lit up a cigarette and waited.

Feeling as if I'd spent my whole life doing just that.

With my face tucked between my knees, I sat there for I didn’t know how long contemplating if this was what death felt like. Until I heard the engine of our tour bus approaching. Silently praying Journey wasn’t awake yet. It pulled up right in front of me with the door already open. Ronnie, our driver, knew better than to say something to me as I stepped on.

“Not now,” I demanded when I saw my bandmates eyeing me up and down.

“We got a show tonight,” Stixx reminded.

I nodded, making my way toward my room before they could say anything else. I’d deal with them later.

Right now, all I wanted was a fuckin’ shower.

My grasp trembled as I opened the door as quietly as possible, being extra careful not to wake Journey. Softly shutting it behind me, I turned to take in the beauty between my sheets. There she was, curled up in my bed, sound asleep. Her blonde hair fanned out over the pillows, the lull of her breath was music to my ears. A rhythm I could write lyrics to. A sliver of light reflected across her beautiful face, accentuating her perfect, pouty lips I admired from afar.