Hours later, when the band was halfway through their fourth beer of the night, Luke glanced at the others. “Do you ever wonder how you go from a band like us—pulling up at a gig and carrying our kit out of the back of the van, showing up and playing music—to the kind of person who needs a rider to dictate there should be five candles from a specific brand, in a specific scent, lit no more than one hour before arrival? Like, what steps do you go through before you become that precious of a twat?”
Alex shrugged. “I don’t think you lose your sense of perspective overnight. We’ve gone from having to do this all by ourselves, sharing Premier Inn hotel rooms or booking Airbnbs, to having a record label book them for us. And I’m sure, for a while, it’ll feel like an upgrade to be in a hotel where you can get room service, and never having to share rooms. And maybe, as the hotel gets better, and the sheet thread count goes higher, and the taste buds grow richer, it just becomes normal. So then, you want to level up again.”
Was that all it was? A slow and steady erosion of being happy with what you’ve got and climbing the ladder of having shit that was once out of reach.
“If I become that guy, shoot me,” Ben said.
Alex shook his head. “It’ll be Jase that gets there first, not you.”
Jase almost choked on his beer. “Why me?”
“You’ve always wanted better things,” Alex said.
Matt laughed. “Then we can all kick the shit out of you and bring you back down to earth.”
“I’ll look forward to the day you try.” Jase gulped down more of his beer.
“How are things with you and Willow?” Ben asked. “You think any more about our conversation?”
Luke took a large gulp of beer. “You were all right. It still feels a bit of a fucked-up mess to be honest. But this morning, we were talking in the kitchen about these posts she made about us, and it felt normal. Hard to look at her and not think about that night.”
Jase placed his elbows on the table. “What night?”
“That night in Detroit.”
“Good I take it?” Alex asked.
Luke grinned. “The fucking best.”
“Want to tell me about it?”
Luke shoulder-checked Alex gently. “I’m not feeding your voyeuristic tendencies.”
“Not about your fucking sex life, you donkey. About your feelings for her.”
“Oh, yeah. It’s just confusing. My head’s reminding me about the contract, and my dick just remembers how good it was. It’s like a diving rod sensing water, jumping to attention whenever she comes too close.”
“What about your heart?” Ben asked.
“Shut up, Ben.”
Ben’s eyes were earnest. “I’m serious. If the contract and the baby didn’t exist, what would she mean to you?”
What would she mean?
“I really like her. She’s funny. And smart. And driven. Like it takes balls to do what she’s done. But she’s also a little naive. A little . . .”
“Young?” Jase said.
“No. It’s more than an age thing. Like a vulnerability thing.”
Alex smirked. “I like those the best.”
Luke shook his head. “Dude, you’re like a fucking dog with toys. Oh, fragile blonde, my favourite. Oh, built guy, my favourite. Twins, my favourite. Married couple, oh, my double favourite.”
Alex’s laughter cracked across the beer garden. “Fair, but I’m always a top. So, I like a little vulnerability, especially if you have to hack your way through layers of armour to get to it.”
“Do you ever stick with someone long enough to do that?” Matt asked.
“My methods are usually very effective. Gimme one night.”
“For fuck’s sake. I don’t want to know. But yeah. There’s something inherently vulnerable about her. And I think there’s a piece of me that responds to that.”
“Beneath the general panic and what-the-fuckery of it all, you actually like her.”
Luke tapped his packet of cigarettes, debating lighting one because, fuck, he really wanted one. Cutting back was a ton harder than he’d anticipated. “Yeah. But the contract says—”
“Mate. You’re a rock star,” Alex said. “What do you care about contracts? Send her a dirty text reminding her about how good everything was in Detroit. See how she responds.”
“I’m not sending her a dirty text. She’s not some random chick I picked and want to keep on the boil for future hook ups.”
Alex took a gulp of his pint. “Isn’t she? I mean. Your balls have got to be pretty blue. You aren’t going to be fucking around on her. So, I guess you’re going to be stuck with her for a year. Might as well fuck her and—”
Luke turned in his seat and grabbed Alex’s collar. “You’ll watch how you fucking talk about her. She’s the mother of my kid and you’re talking about her like . . . What?” he asked as Alex grinned.
“You need to ’fess up to your real feelings about her. You respect her. You think she’s hot. You had a night to remember with her already. She’s pregnant with your kid.”
“Maybe. But people don’t stay, Alex. They never do.”
“What does that mean?” Matt asked.
“Luke,” Ben said, his brow furrowed as he looked down at his phone. “You’ve got to go.”
Luke stood. “Where?”
“Back to Manchester.” Ben stood and grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair before dialling a number on his phone. Alex followed.
“What? Why? We have that meeting with the marketing team for the album release. And then, that publicity—”
“Chaya messaged. She’s with Willow. They’ve been trying to . . . hang on. Hey, sweets, what’s happened?”
“My phone died earlier,” Luke said. “What’s going on?” Fear pulsed through him, a sturdy bass beat that matched his heart.
Ben covered the mouthpiece of the phone. “Willow is in the hospital. There’s a problem.”
The fizz of the lights above her cubicle were about to drive Willow mad.
She looked down at her phone. Completely useless with no signal in the depths of the old hospital corridor, where she lay on a gurney surrounded by a pale blue curtain.
Thank God Chaya had been upstairs.
Terror filled her at what she’d assumed was the imminent loss of her baby. A baby, she’d realised, that she loved and wanted a million times more than she’d believed possible.
Once Chaya had seen she was still just about able to walk, she’d insisted on driving by saying she’d be waiting an age for an ambulance. Iz had stayed as long as she could before she’d had to go to an evening meeting about an event she was responsible for planning.
“Come on, Cletus,” she said, placing her hand on her stomach. “Work with me. I’m not particularly religious, as you’ll learn, but I’m praying anyway. Just . . . don’t go anywhere. Okay?” She wasn’t even sure who she was praying to. Anything and anyone who might be able to make such a mortal decision to step in and save her child.
Tears stung the corners of her eyes. Miles from home, away from Riley and John and Kelly, unable to call anyone. While she was grateful Chaya had stepped outside to update Ben and ultimately Luke on what was happening, she wished she could have made the call.