Emilie shakes her head. She’d heard that call.
With a sigh, I turn back to them. “I thought it’d be all right to sit this one out. We’ve all been through so much. Maybe I should’ve…I’m sorry.”
“So she asked you,” Luke says quietly. “She asked you. The leader. It’s what everyone’s been saying for years. The breakout. The future soloist.”
“Oh, come on.”
“Shut up, Julian,” Luke says and backs up when Doug twists around. “It’s the truth. I don’t like it. And I don’t hate you. Really, I don’t. But it’s still the truth.”
“Why’s everyone so ready to break us up!” My eyes start to sting, and Emilie rests a hand on my shoulder. “Just stop it. Luke. It’s not gonna happen, all right? I’m not going anywhere, am I?”
Luke shakes his head. “One day you will.”
Parker looks from me to Luke, trying to figure out who’s speaking the truth.
A lump forms in my throat. Shoving my hands in my jacket, I stomp out of the close-way. “Bugger off.”
Of course I know what everyone’s always saying, but that doesn’t make it true. And it doesn’t mean that it’s what I want. I want my family with me. Is that too hard for everyone to understand? Why do they have to bring it up?
They could be ready to split, and that’s why they mention it. Especially Luke and Parker, since their mum passed.
The brick around me blurs when I spin around. “Is that it?” I ask and rub my eyes. “You lads need more time to sort things? Because we can.”
Parker stares down at his trousers and picks at a thread. “No, mate.”
“We can. Really.” I turn to Luke who’s leaned back against the dyke. “Management would understand. Just let me ask. All right? Just don’t…just hang in there and we can work through it. This isn’t the time. We aren’t supposed to split. All right, Luke?”
Emilie walks over, her eyes searching my face, and wipes my cheeks. “It’s going to be okay,” she whispers.
She reaches up to hug me, but I grab her arms. I’ll be in bits the minute she pulls me to her.
And my bandmate still hasn’t said anything, or even looked at me. Nothing. “Say something!”
Luke finally meets my eyes. “I’m not trying to break up the band.”
Parker raises his chin, his eyes red and teary. “Why bring it up then, Luke?” he asks and gestures to me. “You see him. He doesn’t want to split.”
“Jules.” Luke tilts his head. “I don’t want to hold you back. I don’t want you to stick with us out of some twisted-up loyalty. You would do that. But you don’t owe us anything, and you and Kasen aren’t….”
I open my mouth to interrupt but he holds up his hand. “No! Listen to me. You two have always been the real talent, and if that bond is gone, then there’s nothing for you here. You’ve got your Emilie. You needed us when we started the band. Always so lonely after leaving your mum and sis. But you don’t need us anymore, my friend.”
“You asshole. It’s not twisted loyalty. You’re my family!” My chest stings. “The band’s not ready to break up. I’m not. We said two more years. At least two more years.”
Emilie wraps her arms around my waist, pressing me to her. Two more sets of arms go around my shoulders, and I manage to mumble, “It’s not twisted, Luke. You’re my family. It’s not twisted.”
“I’m sorry. Really sorry,” Luke says. “But you have to promise you’ll—”
“Shut up,” Emilie and Parker say.
###
“Change of plans.” Our manager’s voice is tinny coming through my mobile.
“Hold on a sec. Let me go get the lads.” Luckily, Luke is here. From now on, I’m not talking to Phillip or Lauren about any “plans” without the whole band present. I find them all out on the deck, it being sunny for once. “Hey, mates. Phillip is on.”
They follow me back inside, collapsing onto the floor, couch and chairs. I put my mobile on speaker.
“Like I was saying, there’s been a change of plans. I’m sending you guys into the London studio to record the last two tracks. For ‘Blue You’ I want the tempo to be picked up and if it sounds anything like Flay has been describing, it should be the second single.”
“But I like ‘Blue You’ mostly stripped back,” Luke says.
“And it will be. Lauren thinks it’s a good idea to do another album, with acoustic versions of all or most of the tracks.” He sounds pretty pleased with himself. I have to admit, it sounds like magic.
“Um…I’m keen on the idea.” I look around and meet each of the lads’ eyes. “What do you think?”
“Two albums in one year,” Luke says. “That’s massive.”
“Videos?” Parker asks. Right. If we have to do videos for two albums in one year plus touring, we’ll be knackered out.
“The release date for the acoustic album won’t be until next Christmas season, but we might do a video or two the following January. It depends where we’re at with songs for the next album. Is Emilie there?”
Emilie nods then shakes her head. “Yeah. Yes, sir.”
“How’s songwriting going? Are you putting music with the lyrics yet?”
She’s barely got the chords down, but she’ll get to melodies eventually.
Emilie pulls a smile. “A little.”
“Good,” Phillip says. “How would you like it if the boys performed your song at the Super Bowl? Well, it’ll be merged with one of their current hits, but it’ll be great from a marketing standpoint. We’ll make sure everyone knows beforehand that they’ll get a preview of the song you wrote.”
Emilie tilts her head. I don’t think she cares when we play it. But Phillip is vengeful. He needs praise, and I’m the designated peacemaker.
“That’s magic,” I say. “Emilie is speechless.”
Emilie shoots daggers at me.
And all of us have spoken up apart from Kasen. I turn to him. “What do you think?”
“Phillip, you said performed.” Kasen pulls a knee up and rests his chin on it. “We can’t actually perform on a moving stage.”
“No, no gymnastics.” Phillip clears his throat. “It’s just singing.”
“Sounds good.” Kason grins. “When can we get to the studio? I’m ready to do something since you put the kibosh on Red Nose.”
“I booked the studio for the rest of the week,” Phillip says.
“Phillip?” Emilie comes over and sits beside me on the couch. “Does this mean the boys won’t go back to the States until February?”
“Yep. Well, a little bit before the Super Bowl so they’ll have time to rehearse. Probably more like the end of January.”
“Do I need to be here?” Emilie asks. “My birthday is the fourteenth, and I want to be back home for it.”
“I got your email with the band’s book, so that’s set to go to the editors after Laura gives me the go-ahead. Go back when you like. Uh…you’ll probably need a minder. Julian, talk to Doug and see what he thinks.”
Yes, she’ll need security. And I’d rather Doug go than anyone else. Of course I’m still feeling sore about him, but there’s no doubt he’s attached to “Little Emilie” and he’d take care.
Now, how can I break away and be only a few days behind her?
Chapter 18
Emilie looks out the balcony door for the hundredth time. Parker walks up and gives her a squeeze. “Chill out, love. You’re making me nervous. You know, it’s the New Year. Whatever you do today, you’ll be doing the rest of the year. So be calm—be happy.”
“I’m not nervous,” Emilie says, shrugging his arm away.
It’s useless to hide my laughing. “Emilie, I swear my parents will love you.”
She scowls at me and then looks down. “How do I look? I can change this skirt if it’s too short.”
Kasen bursts out laughing.
And the front door is eased open.
“That sounds like my lads,” comes Mum’s voice. “Jokesters like al
ways.”
She manages to give us all a once over, while simultaneously checking out the house, giving Tom instructions about her jacket, and giving Dad directions to the loo.
“He’s still not fond of public toilets, dearie.” She bustles into the living area, her skinny arm looping around my shoulders while she plants a kiss on my cheek. “Just look at you boys. Kasen you’re still like a rail. Parker, you need a haircut. You too, Julian.” She stretches her arms out. “Luke, my baby, come here.”
And with Luke still under her capable arm, she eyes Emilie.
“Mum, this is Emilie.”
“Bless. You are a beauty, aren’t you, hen?”
Emilie’s face turns a scarlet red and she shifts from one boot-covered foot to the other. She rubs down her white skirt again. I look away when the green button-up top stretches tight over her chest.
It’ll never do for Mum to catch my eyes focused there. She’s fussed when someone calls a girl sexy, hot or fit. Never let her catch you looking too hard at certain body parts.
Emilie clears her throat. “Thank you.”
Dad comes in the room rubbing his hands together. “Well, looky there. Julian’s done swiped a bonnie bird, didn’t he?” He waves her over. “You’re called Emilie, are you? Fit like min now?”
Ah, their cheery faces do something to me. It’s like they’ve brought a rain shower to wash everything clean, a dancing breeze to push the dark away.
Emilie looks from me to my parents with a hesitant smile. “I think I’ve been called a chicken by both of you now.”
Aye, a translator.
Mum chuckles and lets Luke go.
“Hen is like calling someone honey, I guess,” I explain while Mum grips Emilie into a tight cuddle. “And bonnie bird is a beautiful girlfriend. Dad, this girl you and Mum are trying so hard to embarrass is Emilie.” I squeeze his shoulder and meet a set of green-and-blue eyes like my own. “She’s even prettier when her face doesn’t match her earrings.”
She has her lady bugs in for good luck. How she ever worried they wouldn’t like her is mad.
Almost an hour later, we head out to eat.
“Come on,” Dad says and sits at the table. “Tuck in.”
“Luke, I’m terribly sorry we couldn’t come to the funeral.” Mum leans around Kasen to catch Luke’s eye. “Julian’s father was down in his back again and my flaky sister-in-law couldn’t be bothered helping him. Och, do you mind switching places with me, Kasen? That’s right. Thank you.” She settles into the seat beside Luke and across from Parker. “Dear boy, do tell me how you broke your arm.”
Parker stares down at his plate. “It’s just my finger.”
Dad raises one furry eyebrow. “I’d like to see that x-ray.”
“God love it.” She gives Luke a squeeze. “You lads need someone to take care of you better. You know I love all you.”
Luke’s eyes get shiny, but he holds up.
She spends the rest of our dinner coddling them.
“Your parents are great,” Emilie says in the van on the way back home.
“Mum’s coming back to the house when she gets Dad sorted at the hotel. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Why would I mind?”
“I don’t know. She’ll want to sit up late with a cuppa.”
“Am I expected to stay up and chat with your mother over a cup of hot tea?”
“No. Unless you want to. Do you?”
“No offense, Julian, but you know I only take my tea cold, preferably with ice. And if I make it out of the elevator still awake it’ll be a miracle. That headache pill your dad gave me is powerful.”
“Don’t mention an ache or pain around Doctor Dad or he’ll find you the cure.”
Emilie doesn’t make it out of the van awake. I try to keep my pride under check while I carry her in. But I fail.
She holds my neck tighter when I try to put her to bed. “Hm…I love you.”
###
“That’s a wrap,” Flay calls over the speakers.
The usual excited shouts are missing. Of course we’re happy to finally finish the last track, but I don’t think anyone’s in a celebratory mood. No one mentions a wrap party while we’re gathering our things, anyway. I’m not purely overjoyed because I feel like someone walloped me and stole a really important organ. And my throat is sore.
Emilie flew back to Virginia yesterday. Maybe it’s fair her parents get to see her for her birthday—Emilie was with me for Christmas. But nothing feels fair about not seeing her smile every day. It’s been more than twenty-four hours since I last heard her voice.
Aye, and she hasn’t called.
She knows you’re in the studio all day, choob. But, couldn’t she at least leave a message? So it’s out-of-sight-out-of-mind, is it? My phone vibrates once, and I pull it out while the lads are busy chatting with Flay. They don’t even notice I’m not up there with them. Prats.
And it’s not a text from Emilie. Yay, my mobile phone bill was automatically paid. Who cares?
“It’s good,” Flay bellows at the lads. “It’s real good.”
Flay was extra complimentary about the emotion in my solo. I guess it’s a good thing we were recording a song about missing someone today. All of us were great.
Wait. A little envelope on my screen tells me that I actually do have a message. Maybe I didn’t have a signal in the sound booth.
“Hey, Julian.” Emilie’s voice is like Mum’s bubblegum-flavored cough syrup over a raw throat. “I hope recording is going great. I know that no one’s planning a wrap party, but do me a favor, okay? Be proud of yourself for finishing. You guys haven’t had it easy lately, and actually recording…it’s great. No it’s amazing. I’m proud of you. I love you. Julian, the reason I wanted to come back so bad wasn’t just for my birthday. Even though I will make good use of those birthday candles.” She laughs. “But I have something better in mind. Tomorrow is January eleventh. I’m going back to our fountain, and this time my wish will be about us.”
My shoulders relax. I throw my head back, tears gathering my eyes. Oh, the relief—so how come I’m acting like a wee boy? I take a rib-cracking breath and let it out slowly through my lips.
“That Emilie?”
I turn and find Kasen coming through the passageway.
He stops in front of me, his black eyes meeting mine. “Missing your girl? The first couple of days are really hard because you don’t know how you’re going to manage.”
“I’m a right choob, ain’t I?” My throat aches while I blink the tears away and laugh at myself. I can’t mind a time I’ve ever been such a mess. Emilie’s security slip was scary, but it was over quickly. This is…it’ll be a week before I get to Virginia. The days ahead look terribly bleak.
Kasen shoves his hands in his back pockets. “No. With the baby…. Let’s just say I understand now how you can miss someone you’ve never met. Your wish girl.” He nods with his whole upper body. “It always blew my mind how you could fall so hard. I get it now.”
“It’s not the same, mate.” Vastly different, but I don’t know how he has come to this association, do I? Because I haven’t talked to him about anything. He hasn’t wanted to.
He shakes his head. “Nope, it’s not the same, and I didn’t say that it was. I just understand some things better now is all.”
Fash. I never knew he was that sad about the abortion, just angry. All I did was keep my distance because he was in a mood. And suspect him a killer. It’s just that everything about him seemed connected to violence. But Kase never gripped Luke’s throat tight enough to leave a mark. Luke said later that it was mostly just pushing. Parker is the one who truly did harm, busting Kasen’s lip. And I’m the one who had pain in mind when I put my best mate in a headlock and shoved him against the wall.
“I’m sorry.” I had everything so wrong, and I’ve done everything so backward. “I’m truly sorry.”
“I was hard to get along with. Did that on purpose because I just wa
nted to be left alone,” he says. “But you, my friend, are different. You should get out. Watch a movie or something. We could sneak in during the trailers.”
And now that I’m without Emilie he’s going to keep me occupied? Not fair.
His face blurs, and my watery eyes give me away again.
He grips both my shoulders. “It’s okay, Julian.”
How is it I’m such a terrible mess? Maybe I just need sleep. Two hours of sleep plus four hours of tossing and turning doesn’t cut it. That old restless feeling is back again. Or maybe I need to get out like Kasen says. I stare at the red-and-black swirled carpet and shrug.
“We’ll go. I’ll tell Tom.” He turns and heads back down the passageway, and I follow.
With shades on and hats pulled down low, Kasen and I swoop into the cinema.
Tom grunts and plops into the seat beside me. I don’t think he’s happy with Kasen’s selection. I have to agree. A Loch Ness monster should never be mixed with a love story.
I feel bad when I can’t stop laughing halfway through.
Tom snorts beside me. But he doesn’t understand. Kasen knew there was no way I could take this film seriously, romance or not. We’ve laughed over stuff like this hundreds of times, haven’t we? Doug too. He’d enjoy this film as much as us.
Kasen fake punches my shoulder when the screen turns to black. “It was good, huh?”
“Aye.”
Back at the house, I try to tune out Kasen’s cackling while retelling the film to Parker and Luke. Tomo and Gregs head out the door to investigate a security ping on the gate down below.
I’ve had a package today from the investigator. There are folders for each of the minders. My mates too. And me. Blast him. I never said he—My hand pauses on the thickest beige folder.
Douglas Paul Wilson.
It doesn’t feel right—Doug should be allowed to keep his private life from me if he likes—but I can’t stop myself from opening up his folder. The first page is a form, a diagram like a family tree of sorts. His wife, Sara; his son, Kenny; and a daughter, Jenni. Kenny and Jenni are teenagers, the girl being the younger one.