Angol
The Daymakers were the hottest alt-rock band since the nineties, the masked members making fans swoon at the very thought of who might be hiding under the skull masks. Known only by their stage names-Royal, Hero, Poet and Knight-their real identities were a carefully held secret.
I was third-generation white trash who had no value to society. That was a direct quote from my guidance counselor, by the way. She wasn't wrong, not really. My mom had OD'ed and my dad was in prison. I had no one and nothing.
Our paths should never have crossed. But by a weird twist of fate-and the flying fists of my ex-boyfriend-I ended up in the wrong place at the right time. Hiding from my ex beneath a tour bus, I was a convenient solution to an ongoing problem for the tour company.
They needed their band members to stop screwing random groupies and risking the anonymity which brought in millions of dollars for both the band and the label.
I needed to get the hell away from LA and earn enough money to have a fresh start.
I was taking back my future, and if that meant going on tour across the country as a glorified toy for the pleasure of some masked rockstars, then it was my choice.
Unfortunately, the demons of my past weren't done with me yet.
