Life in Vegas || Brendon Urie

Chapter 30

Brendon's POV

"Dude, are you almost ready?" Spencer called from the hallway. I zipped up the suitcase I was currently living out of and slung it over my shoulder.

"Coming!" I yelled, running down the stairs.

"Jesus dude, Rodney doesn't have a lot of patience," Spencer stressed. "We were supposed to leave 15 minutes ago. We aren't the only people hitching a ride."

I sighed, "I know, I know. Let's just go before he leaves us."

Rodney was a bus driver that would drive anywhere, for a price. That's how we got our first show outside of Las Vegas. We were told to be opening for a small act at a small venue, but it was a big deal; we hadn't gotten our first real gig yet, and now it was here.

"I been fixin' to leave you boys here in Nevada!" Rodney barked with his southern drawl as we boarded the old, rusty bus.

"Sorry Rod, my bad," I apologized.

"No more of it, you hear?"

"Yes sir."

As the rest of my band mates slept in the cracked leather and duct tape seats, I sat, pensive and nervous. This is the time that I would have gone for a hit of any illegal substance I could get my hands on, if I hadn't sobered up.

After Kendall and I split for good, I went even further off the deep end. Screaming matches with my parents, random girls every night, getting into trouble, and most of all, never sober. Seeing as sobriety was key to a good rehearsal, my fellow musicians were fed up. I usually never showed, but if I did, all I would do was sit and argue.

Then the ultimatums came.

From my band mates: Either quit the drugs, or we're leaving you behind.

From my parents: Get your life together, or we're kicking you out.

It took three, ultimately, to get me to come back to reality. The third was Kendall leaving. Though it wasn't a real ultimatum per sé, it was enough for me to know what I was doing wrong, and it was time to stop before I lost any other good things in life. It had been three years since my last attempt to contact Kendall; I knew my voicemails were going through, but she didn't want to speak with me.

Of course, I was still evicted from my parents' house. I now lived in a small, beat up slum with Ryan, Spencer, Dallon and Brent. We played every show we could get and split pay evenly.

I loved every second of it all.

Despite the slight struggle presented by living with my band members and receiving minimal pay, things were looking up.

So, as I watched the early morning sky awaken, I felt a sense of hope dawning in my chest. The first real spark I had felt since Kendall left for her dad's. Something told me this was the beginning.

When we arrived, we set up our beat up instruments on the stage as people began trickling into the venue.

"There's going to be like, 100 people, max," Brent sighed.

"Still more than the local bars in Vegas have," Ryan said.

Brent let out a frustrated groan as we left the stage and found the small trailer that had Panic! At The Disco written on a sign that was taped to the door. I swung open the rusty door and we all piled in, beginning our warm up routine.

Once we were done, Brent said, "I'm going to go check the crowd."

Everyone dismissed him with disinterested groans. However, a few minutes later, he returned with a gaping mouth and stuttered words.