The Rock Chamber Boys : The Complete Series

by Daisy Allen

  “Just dandy.” I look away, knowing I’ll be unable to keep the loathing out of my voice if I have to keep my eyes locked on his.

  “You sure?” he asks again.

  “Uh-huh.” Each word is like torture.

  “Because you don’t sound so happy.” He reaches out to touch me and I move out of reach, out of patience.

  “You know what, Silas, you blackmail me into coming to work for you. Fine. I will be as professional as can be. You can count on me doing my job and doing it well. But let me remind you that on a personal level, I am here under duress.”

  “You could be a little more friendly,” he says, shrugging like a sulky child.

  “That’s not part of our deal. Which I’ve upheld to the letter otherwise.”

  “Come on, don’t be like that, Emily.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like this—like I’m evil.”

  “You find a better word for it you let me know.” I pick up my bag and head to the exit. “I’m leaving.”

  “Hey, we’re still here,” he says, grabbing my arm, his voice tense.

  “Unless you want me to write about your groupies, then my job here for tonight is done!”

  I pull my arm out of his grip and push myself out the door.

  “Emily!”

  I stop in my tracks, not turning around to look at him.

  “You could make this easier on yourself, you know.”

  “How?”

  He moves up behind me, pressing his hot, sweaty body against my back. My lip can’t help but curl up into a sneer. He leans over and whispers into my ear.

  “You could stop fighting this. I know you want me. Why do you keep pretending you don’t? Haven’t we always been meant for each other? Ever since we were teenagers? Because I know I want you.” His breath clings to me like sticky tar.

  I try to shrug him away. But he moves closer, a finger tracing down my arm. There’s acid in my throat.

  “No.”

  “Em, come on. We have a kid together!”

  “Silas, I said no. And trust me. I mean it.”

  I feel him back off, the cold air whooshing in between our bodies, filling me with relief.

  The relief is short-lived before he grabs my arm and spins me around to face him.

  “Why are you being such a bitch? Huh?!” His breath is hot and dank in my face. And I struggle to get out of his hold. “Is this because of him, because of pretty boy Brad?”

  “No, it’s because of you. Let me go, Silas!” I try to shake him off, but he’s too strong. I can feel the bruises as he’s digging into my bicep with his fingers.

  “No, admit it, admit that you want to go back to be his little slut. What I can’t understand is why? Why, when I can give you the world?”

  “Let me go!” I yell again, ignoring his words, just wanting him to release me. So I can run, run away and never see him again.

  “Why? So you can go and fuck him? Cheat on me behind my back again?” He spits out each word like it’s poison as he riles himself up.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You think I don’t know you fucked him that night after prom? That clown? That loser? When we were still together? You think I don’t know that you’ve been nothing but gagging for it from him ever since? But I saved you. I saved you by deleting his messages. Or else where would you be now? Just another groupie, another notch on his belt.”

  I can’t believe what I’m hearing, what he’s saying. It can’t be true. “What did you say?”

  “You want me to repeat the whole thing?”

  “No, just the part about deleting his messages.”

  “Oh yeah, his weepy whiny, why don’t you love me, I’m going away, come wave goodbye to me message. What a man.”

  I shake my head. Even after everything, and knowing what kind of person he was, I can’t believe that Silas would stoop so low. “Oh my God. You’re unbelievable.”

  “I did it for you.”

  “No, you did it for yourself, like you do everything. What makes you think you can be a father to Ben?”

  “You’re really one to talk. You’re here because you claim I blackmailed you.”

  “You did.”

  “I didn’t have to try too hard. One threat that I’d look into your past and you crumbled. What you did must’ve been pretty despicable. So how does that make you a better parent than me?”

  “Because I gave up everything to be here, for him!” I yell, all the hurt and frustration boiling to the surface. I gave up everything for my son, and Silas wasn’t going to cheapen that.

  “Then you might as well enjoy it while you’re here.” He leans in to kiss me, and I reach up to scratch his face, spitting in his eye.

  “Get away from me you narcissistic fuck! LET ME GO!” I yell again, hoping it will surprise him into loosening his hold on me. The way he’s acting, there’s no telling what he’s capable of.

  “You fucking bitch!” he snarls and grabs my throat, the other hand coming up as if to strike me.

  “Hey!”

  The voice startles us and we both turn to in its direction. It’s the club’s bouncer, standing a few yards away. Silas’s hand lets go of my throat but moves down to grab my wrist.

  “Are you okay?” he asks me, and my knees almost buckle with relief.

  I can barely breathe, and only shake my head in response.

  “Yeah she’s okay,” Silas answers and waves his hand as if dismissing the bouncer.

  “I was asking her,” the guy responds, not moving.

  I shake myself out of Silas’s loosened hold.

  “Uh, yeah, thank you. Could you, could you please maybe call me a cab?” I ask, my hand coming up to rub my neck.

  “Yeah, no problem, ma’am. Maybe you should go back inside, buddy.”

  “Maybe you should mind your own business,” Silas growls, glaring at me.

  “I’d like to see you try to make me,” the bouncer says, as if wishing Silas would make a move.

  “Just go, Silas,” I whisper, closing my eyes, begging him to leave.

  “Fine. I’ll…I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  “Whatever. Just go.” Forever. Just go away, forever.

  I feel his eyes on me for a long, torturous moment, before he strolls back into the building. I make sure he’s gone before I sink down onto my knees, my body shaking with sobs, my head falling into my hands.

  “Ma’am. He’s gone now. I’ll wait with you until your cab comes.”

  I can only nod in reply as I try to catch my breath.

  But I know he’s there. And it stops me from completely falling apart.

  ***

  I stand under the shower for over an hour.

  Trying to wash the clingy, thick tar feel of Silas’s touch and voice off me, but it’s of no use. At some point, the tears stop and it’s just water streaming down my face. The red-hot coal in my chest only burns hotter as I run through the events that have led me here.

  I made a mistake. I know it now. And now I don’t know how to get out of it.

  I towel myself off and tiptoe into Ben’s room.

  His wall and ceiling are covered in soft little stars projected from his night light. Brad had bought it for him after Ben had seen the light show at the first Rock Chamber Boys concert he went to. And now he won’t fall asleep without it.

  Sitting down on the edge of the bed, I watch the light dance over the bed, an errant star sometimes flashing over Ben’s face, making me smile. I know then why he can’t sleep without it. It’s like Brad is watching over him. I stroke a hair off his forehead and lean down to press a kiss against his cheek. My sweet baby boy, my Benny Boy. The thought of Brad’s nickname for him twists at my heart, and I wonder how much Brad is missing him.

  Without thinking, without letting myself think, I take a picture of Ben sleeping and send it to Brad.

  There’s an instant reply, a love heart emoticon “<3”

  And then another. Another love hea
rt, this time with the words “One for you too.”

  Before I have time to reply, a third message beeps through.

  Are you okay?

  I shake my head no, and type “Yes” into the phone and send it.

  I’m not.

  I’m sorry.

  Tell me where you are.

  I can’t. I just wanted you to know, we’re okay.

  I don’t believe you.

  You don’t have to.

  Why did you go? What happened?

  I can’t talk about it. Just…just one day, when you have a child, You’ll understand. Until then, you’re just going to have to believe me.

  I have a child already. Ben. I already understand.

  Then that’s all that matters. Goodbye Brad.

  This time the phone doesn’t beep, it rings.

  I sit and watch it until it turns off. And then I go back to my room and cry over losing Brad Windsor one more time.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Brad

  “Ready guys?” I wink at the others and they all nod in bright enthusiasm.

  “Hit it!”

  We all break out into our new piece, a medley of Disney movie theme songs. We keep the tempo upbeat, chopping and changing between parts, moving around the room, dancing a jig in our costumes. Our audience squeals with delight and Hailey takes some by the hand and twirl them around in the free space, all of them singing along at the tops of their sweet, little voices.

  It’s our first concert at a children’s hospital, and we couldn’t be happier with how it’s turned out.

  After having a chat to Dennis a few days ago, he agreed to try to fit in some hospital visits, mostly in children’s wards. Within twenty-four hours he’d arranged at least one hospital or treatment center in the eight cities we had left on our tour. We spent the next day figuring out some kid-friendly songs we could do, as a band or in solos or duets. But this one was by far our favorite, and it was proving to be a favorite among our audience too.

  “A handful of lollipops to whoever can guess the next song first!” Marius calls out and he starts transitioning into the next song in our medley.

  “MOANA!” they all yell at once and their parents laugh. Marius throws his hand up in defeat. “You guys are just too good at guessing. I’m going to make the next one super duper hard for you.”

  We finish the chorus of the theme song to Moana and move right into the next one.

  “THE LITTLE MERMAID!” they all yell again, barely a few notes into the song. Marius stops playing and pretends to give up, flopping down on the edge of one of the kids’ beds. She squeals with joy and reaches out and hugs him. He breaks out into a grin and hugs her right back.

  I jog over to him and poke him in the stomach with my bow and he yelps.

  “Hey, get back on your fiddle! Don’t let him be such a lazy bum kids, he’ll try to get out of anything to lie down!” I tell them and they run over to him and drag him to his feet.

  Marius tries to be a dead weight, then he turns around and starts tickling anyone he can reach. They giggle and run away. He picks up his viola and joins in with us again. We come to a loud finish and then bow to the sound of clapping and cheering.

  It’s the best audience I’ve ever had.

  I feel a poke in my back and I turn to see Sebastian beaming at me.

  “Thanks, Brad. For bringing us here.”

  He gestures his head towards Cadence, who looks so happy her face might literally split in two. Cadence, who in the short amount of time she’s been with us, has taught us how much better it is to give than take. I tilt my head in acknowledgment of Sebastian’s thanks.

  “Now kids, any requests?!” I ask.

  We have to cover our ears from the volume of their screams back at us.

  ***

  “Wow. That was fun, but exhausting,” Marius says, flopping onto the couch back on our bus.

  “For sick kids, they sure have a lot of energy,” I comment.

  “Imagine how much they would have if they weren’t sick,” Jez says, turning pale at the thought.

  Then we all turn sober for a moment, as we remember a certain little boy that was recently with us, with all the energy in the world.

  Dennis breaks up the rare quiet though, barreling into the room, talking even before he’s reached the door.

  “Whoa whoa. Slow down. Breathe, then talk.”

  “I don’t have time to breathe. I’m trying sort out your lives,” he quips.

  “Oh, then screw breathing. Work away,” Jez tells him.

  “So, tomorrow, the whole day’s been set aside for rehearsals and then—”

  “What? Ugh, nooooooooooooo. Why do we have to rehearse more? We know what we’re doing,” Marius complains, covering his face with a cushion.

  “Oh, you do, do you?”

  “Sure.”

  “What’s the change that Sebastian made to the chorus to your duet?”

  “Um…” Marius stalls, his face a complete blank.

  “He’s decided not to change the key,” Dennis informs him.

  “Yup. Got it, I was going to say that.”

  “And you,” he points to me with this phone, “whose cue are you going to take, going into ‘Iris’?”

  “That would be…yours?” I grin, hoping that will win me some points.

  “Nice try, burger-breath. You’re taking Jez’s cue.”

  “And you, what order have we moved the Bach to?”

  “Ha. Trick question, we’re not playing it,” Sebastian answers proudly.

  “Actually, last rehearsal we decided we were going to open with it,” Dennis says, whacking Sebastian over the head with his notebook.

  “Ow! Well, same diff. No one listens to the beginning anyway,” Sebastian sulks.

  “You’re going to rehearse. This is the biggest performance you’ve ever had. This is not the time to just ‘wing it.’ Do you have any idea how many people would kill to replace you? Everyone who’s ever been in a band, that’s how many. But somehow, someone wasn’t quite on the ball the day they made the decision, and thought you pansy-pissers should be the ones given the break!” He stops pacing and glares at us, his face glowing red, his lips pulled tight over his teeth.

  “Whoa. Relax. Yes, Dennis, we know. We are not worthy.”

  He takes a breath and runs a hand through his hair. “I’m not kidding, guys. This is the gig of the year. We’ve worked hard to get here. You worked hard. Let’s not waste it, okay?”

  He leaves and the others go back to their phones and games.

  But I can’t stop thinking about what he’s said. And it’s given me an idea. An idea that may just change everything, for everyone. Now it’s just a matter of convincing the guys to go along with it. And it might as well be asking them for a kidney.

  But I guess if they were going to give up an internal organ to anyone, it would be me.

  ***

  The charter plane ride back to London is the longest three hours of my life.

  Being on the plane alone sucks, but it’s bad enough I’m not going to be at some of the shows and interviews, let alone the rest of the band going missing as well. There’s a clock above the door of the cockpit and I can’t stop watching the second hand tick tick ticking each torturous moment go by.

  My legs jiggles as I try to envision what reception I’m going to get at the other end. Whether the door will slam in my face, or not open at all.

  I’m giving up everything to be on this plane. I’m going to make the offer I have prepared, and if it doesn’t work, I may have nothing to return to. I’ve asked my very best friends to sacrifice for me. And they did it without hesitation. I can only hope that what we’re giving up isn’t going to be for nothing.

  “Mr. Windsor, can I get you a drink?”

  “No, thank you, Angie. Just let me know when we’re almost there, and call the car to be ready to pick me up from Gatwick, okay? I don’t have a lot of time to lose.”

  The truth is, I’ve l
ost too much time already.

  ***

  The woman at reception calls up to the room to say that I’m coming.

  I almost wish she hadn’t. Sometimes I think it’s best to catch people off guard. They have less time to think, to plan…to run.

  The elevator ride to the fifth floor is interminably long. Like it’s on the same time warp as the plane, conspiring to make my life a waiting hell. It feels so long that by the time I arrive at the floor, the ding of the elevator startles me, as if I’ve forgotten I’ve been traveling in a metal box up the side of a building.

  I step out, almost bumping into a group of women. There’s a gasp, and I hear her murmur the name of our band. She’s recognized me. I push on, and hope that by looking unapproachable, she’ll get the message. I don’t hear footsteps run after me, and I mouth a “Thank you, God.”

  I scan the doors for the apartment number written on the paper.

  508…510…512. 512, that’s the one.

  I take a breath before I reach up, rapping my knuckles on the door. The music inside instantly stops and there are voices. Shit. I hadn’t expected company.

  Loud footsteps come toward the door and I step back.

  The door swings open and it takes some restraint to stay back.

  “Brad. It’s good to see you.”

  “Silas. We need to talk.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Brad

  He opens the door wider and moves aside for me to step inside the apartment. It’s actually the band’s rehearsal space and the room is set up with their equipment. There are two of the other members there, fiddling with their instruments, and I give them a wave.

  “Hey,” one of them replies, and they take a hint and both stand up and leave the room.

  “So, what can I do for you? Or are you just here to pick up some performing tips? I mean, I’m not saying you could use them, but hey, frankly? You could use them.”

  His tone comforts rather than irritates, because now I know there’s no need for fake politeness, for false modesties. Which is good. I have no patience left for that.

  “When you get your first, well, any award at all that we haven’t won yet? I’ll be the first one to sign up for lessons.”