Some skeletons are better left in the closet.
Steven Sharpe is on the road to recovery. After boozing, drugging, and sex with just about anything that moved, he’s making a comeback. Age is only a number, right? Why should he hang up his mic and guitar at thirty-seven when hard rock music needs a shot in the arm?
Will has the dumbest luck!
Will is a poor suburban white kid with no clue what he’ll do in life. When his nemesis exclaims, he’s sitting at the wrong table, Will braces himself for a punch that could alter his face. No amount of makeup would cover that up.