by Lesley Jones
“You still there, George?”
“Yeah, yeah, sorry, I’m just tired.”
“D’ya want me to call ya back tomorrow?”
“Na, na, I’m fine. So yeah, anyway, his brother Robbie turned up,” I continue to tell Bailey about what I had found out about Cam’s past from his brother that day.
We end the call a while later, with him assuring me he won’t inform our parents or brothers of what had happened last night. God, if any of them knew the actual truth, I’d be packed in a crate and shipped back to England in a flash. I wasn’t quite ready for that yet.
It’s getting late and I’m tired, but I want to talk to Cam. I just want to put his mind at rest and thank him for his concern. That’s all.
That. Is. All.
I find his number and press call, my stomach in knots. It’s Sunday morning in England, and I wonder if he will be up yet… And alone.
“Kitten, what the fuck’s going on? Are you okay? What was wrong last night, and don’t tell me nothing.”
“Fuck, Tiger, you’ll let me get a word in edgeways, won’t ya?” I hear him sigh and I know, I just know he’s shaking his head. My heart likes that I know that about him and does a little skip and a dance in my chest. “Stop shaking your head at me.” I hear him laugh, a little laugh, not his big, head thrown back, boom of a laugh, but it makes my heart let me know it still has life pulsing through it, and it stirs something in my belly.
“What happened?” he asks me quietly, and I suddenly want to tell him everything. I want to curl up in his big lap, feel his big arms around me and breathe in that unique smell that is Cam.
“Do you still wear Givenchy?” He gives another little chuckle.
“What a strange question. Now stop evading mine and tell me what the fuck happened.”
“I fucked up.”
“What did you do?”
“I got drunk. I got stoned. I snorted coke.”
“Kitten,” he whispers, and I know his eyes are closed. I’m not sure whether or not I should continue but I do.
“And then I couldn’t sleep, so I took a couple of Valium, but I was so fucked-up that I forgot I had taken the Valium already and I took some more.” I say it quickly, and then cringe as I wait for his response, but nothing could prepare me for the roar that comes down the line. I have to move the phone away from my ear it’s so loud. I catch words like ‘who, where, kill, dead, fuck, murder, dead, cunt’ and he says Georgia a lot; not Kitten but Georgia. I put the phone on speaker as a precaution so I don’t have it against my ear.
“Have you finished?” I ask when he finally stops and is breathing heavily into the phone.
“Not by a long fuckin’ shot. What happened? Did Bailey get you to the hospital? The fucker wouldn’t tell me anything.”
“You threatened to shoot my brother.” It wasn’t a question.
“And?”
“He’s my brother and you threatened to shoot him.”
“He threatened to get your dad to blow my balls and my head off.”
“He told me about your head, but he didn’t mention your balls.” I tried to hide the smile in my voice. “And anyway, he only threatened after you did.”
“He wouldn’t tell me anything. He wouldn’t tell me where you were… I was… you scared the fuck out of me, Georgia.”
“Why do you care?”
“Because I’m a fuckin’ idiot where you’re concerned.”
“But you do care?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” He lets out a long sigh.
“What’s it to you, Kitten? Why do you care that I care? You made your choices a long time ago, and they didn’t involve me.”
“They weren’t choices. I had no control. I explained that to you then.” My heart is pumping the blood around my body at such a rate that I can feel the pressure and hear a ‘whoosh’ in my ears.
“We all have choices, Kitten, and you chose him.”
“He’s dead.”
“I know and I’m sorry for that; I’d do anything for that not to be the case.” That’s such a Cam thing to say.
“I’m glad you care.” And it hits me in that moment just how glad I am that he cares. A wave of so many emotions washes over me. One of them is something I’m not sure of yet, desire is another, then want and of course, guilt.
“Are you?”
“I am.”
“Why?” he asks in a voice that’s so quiet for Cam.
“You’ve turned this right around.” How the fuck did that happen?
“Answer me, Kitten. Why are you glad I care?”
“Despite what you might think, I’ve always cared, and there’s always been something there.”
“But not enough.” I don’t know if that’s a question or a statement. If it’s a question, I don’t know how to answer it, so I go for honesty.
“You know what, Cam, it probably was enough. But by the time I realised it, I was back with Sean and it was too late for us. Please don’t think I never cared, because I did. I always have, and I still do.” Whatever he may think of me now, I need him to know this; it’s suddenly important to me.
“I don’t know what to say to that.” I can’t help but laugh at that.
“Seriously? You mean, for once, the great Cameron King has no comeback?” I know he’s smiling.
“Fuck, Kitten, I don’t think I do.”
“I love that I can do that to you.” The words come out before I think about them; they’re the truth and I just can’t help it.
“You’ve just made me hard.” God, the things he says. I clench everything inside me and unconsciously grind myself into the mattress as I sit.
“You mean you weren’t already?” I’m all bravado, but I blush as I think of Cam with a hard-on; he still has the biggest dick I’ve ever seen.
“Semi,” he says casually, but I know he’s grinning.
“That works for me.” My stomach curls in on itself as I say the words aloud that really were just meant to be said to myself, in my head.
“Fuck, Kitten.” It sounds like he growls; my head spins, my eyes feel heavy and my skin heats.
“Yes, please, Tiger.”
“Don’t tease me, Kitten. I’m warning you. Do. Not. Tease. Me.”
“I’m not teasing. I’m wet and I’m aching.” I don’t know where I’m going with this, but I’m so turned on I keep pushing.
“I wish I was closer. I want to be able smell how wet. I want to be able to taste your ache.” Oh, God.
“Should I book my flight and jump on the next plane?”
“Plane? Where the fuck are you?” Oh, shit, I thought Bailey would have told him.
“I’m in Australia. I’m… I’ve been here for a couple of months. I needed to get away, you know. All the stories in the papers and now with the anniversary of the accident coming up, I needed to get away. My cousin Jackson called and invited me to come and stay. My aunt and uncle own a bar, so I’ve just been helping out here, lying low and…” I try to think of a word. “And fixing myself.”
“Kitten,” he pauses for a few seconds, “where in Australia are you?” His tone has completely changed; he sounds almost angry.
“Byron Bay,” I reply, and I swear I hear him let out a groan as I answer.
“I need to go. I’ll call you tomorrow. Sorry, but I need to go.”
And just like that, he hangs up.
Well, that went well. What did I say?
I text Roman back that I’m okay and curl up and go to sleep.
Chapter Eleven
I wake bright and early Monday morning and call my mum, and I chat with her for about an hour about nothing in particular. I don’t mention I’m going to book my flight home; I’m going to surprise her and my dad and just turn up. I then call Jimmie and let her know I’ve decided I’m ready to come home.
“Are you sure, George?”
“Yeah, it’s time, Jim; I’m homesick and missing you all. I’ll probably leave sometime next week.”
“Not
before the weekend then?”
“No, not before the weekend; I’m not ready to be facing that. I just… I want to be as far away from all of that madness as possible.”
“I understand. How d’ya plan on spending the day?”
“To be honest, I don’t know. The club Jodie’s been working on has its opening night Saturday and we’ve all been invited down to Sydney for that, but it just seems wrong.”
“Why’s it wrong, George?”
“You don’t think going out clubbing on the one-year anniversary of my husband and child’s death is wrong?” She’s quiet for a few seconds.
“I think you need to do whatever it takes to get you through the day. I think you staying in bed all day and crying is the wrong thing to do, George. You’ve spent almost a year locked away, hiding from life. I think this could be the perfect time for you to get back out in the land of the living, and I couldn’t think of anywhere better for you to do it.”
“What d’ya mean?”
“Well, who’s gonna be expecting you to turn up at a club in Sydney? All eyes are gonna be focused on England: they’ll be looking for you at your mum’s, at the cemetery, where the accident happened. I don’t know. But Australia will be the last place they’ll expect ya to make an appearance, mate.”
“What was that?”
“What?”
“That terrible accent you just put on, was that your attempt at sounding Aussie?”
“Good, weren’t it?”
“If you were trying to sound South African, it was fanfuckingtastic.”
“That’s harsh.”
“That’s honest.”
“So how does Roman sound then; what’s he say when you’re banging his brains out… Fair dinkum Sheila, that feels bonza?”
“Something like that, yeah.”
“Are you still seeing him?” Hmmm, am I?
“I think Roman and I have run our course. He’s a really nice bloke. He’s helped me to no end and the sex has been good, but we both knew it was just a temporary thing or fling, or whatever.”
“But now it’s over?”
“Yeah, I think it is. I hope we can always be friends and I’ll always be grateful for the way he’s helped me, but I’m coming back to England now so it’s the perfect time to end things.”
“You know what, George? I’m so proud of ya. You sound really good, really together.”
I hold in the laugh at this statement. “I’m getting there, Jim; slowly but surely, I’m getting there. Roman’s been a big part of that. And Jackson.” I let out a big sigh as I think about how far I’ve come in the last couple of months; Saturday night’s mishap aside, of course.
“Mmmmm, Jackson; yum. Is he still as hot?” I hear Lennon say something in the background, and Jimmie say, “Only joking, babe; you’re way hotter than your cousin.”
“Yeah, he’s a good-looking bloke, but he’s also like a brother to me so I don’t even think of him that way. Talking of brothers, does mine wanna say hello?”
“He’s desperate to. Let me know as soon as you make plans. I’ll speak to ya before the…” She pauses for a few seconds, unsure of what to call it. “I’ll talk to ya before the weekend, George. Love ya, babe.” She’s gone and I swallow down the emotions bubbling to the surface as I think of this weekend. One year, one long and lonely year.
“Little sister Georgia, how the fuck are ya?”
“I’m good, big brother Lennon. How’s everyone there? What are the boys doing this weekend?” By the boys, I mean the band, but Len knows that. The boys had struggled since Sean’s death; they wanted to go on in his honour, but at the same time, I think they felt guilty, which was something I totally understood. When I left England, they were about to start auditions for a new guitarist and Marley was going to take over vocals. He had a great voice and would have no problem taking centre stage.
“Yeah, you know, they’re all struggling a little bit.” He sounds a bit evasive.
“What d’ya mean? What happened with the auditions? Did they find a new guitarist?”
He’s quiet for a few seconds. “No, to be honest with ya, George, I don’t think it’s gonna happen. Tommy and Bill have got their own agendas, and I don’t think they really include being part of the band… and Marley, I think Marls is wanting to do his own thing. He’s been writing a lot and I think perhaps he’s thinking of just going it alone.”
“You think or you know? He’s your brother, Len, and you’re his manager, so don’t tell me you don’t know what his plans are.”
“You need to speak to Marley.”
“But I’m speaking to you. What’s the big secret? If the boys wanna call it quits, then I totally understand; that’s their call, not mine. I won’t be pissed off with them. It’ll be sad but I won’t be pissed off.”
“I think that’s the way it’s looking, George. I think they wanna announce something over the weekend, but they’ve all been too scared to approach ya.”
“So why didn’t you? You’re their manager and my brother.” I hear him sigh, but I’m pissed off now; I’ve worked out why nothing’s been said and I’m a little hurt. “You all think I’ll fall apart, don’t you? You all think that if anything is said about the band splitting up, I’ll end up back in the nut house?”
“George…”
“No, Len, I’m disappointed. I was okay; I was doing okay until those bitches started touting their lies around the papers. I’m doing okay now. This weekend’s gonna be hard, of course it is, but I’m doing as well as anyone can expect. You only had to ask me, Len.”
“I’m sorry, George. It’s just... well before, ya know, when you split up, you wouldn’t talk about him or the band. This time, I just thought it would be the same… Or even harder for ya.” I pause to think about that for a few seconds. When Sean and I split up, I couldn’t listen to his songs. I couldn’t hear his name mentioned. I was terrified of accidentally coming across any mention, any link to him, constantly. But now? Now he’s dead; I listen to his music all the time. I have his music as my ring tone. I have pictures everywhere. I even have a picture of Sean, myself and Beau, in those last few moments before Sean died. No tubes, no machine, just us and our little boy, curled up together on a bed, all looking like we were sleeping, and I love that picture. Some may find it weird or warped, but I look at that photo as soon as I wake up in the morning and last thing before I go to bed at night. It brings me peace. It calms me. It helps me cope.
“It hurt differently then. The pain I felt then was different.”
“How? How was it different, George?”
“I was hurt and angry; I was humiliated. He was out there, living his life, and I wanted him back so badly.”
“But ain’t it worse, George? Ain’t the pain worse now?” Lennon’s voice is almost a whisper. My brother wants the answers to these questions, but he’s also terrified of them. He’s probably scared shitless of finding out just how broken I am. And I am. I am so very broken, probably beyond repair, but I’ll hold myself together enough. Coming here has fixed me enough to be able to hold it together for my family, to keep going for them, because what I’ve finally come to realise is that they, too, are broken. Jimmie and Ash tried to tell me how badly my family were coping at the very beginning, but I couldn’t see beyond my own grief back then. I just wanted the pain to be gone. I didn’t particularly want to die, but I just couldn’t bear to go on living. Now, now after a few months away and some time for reflection, I’ve realised my family need to get me through this. We are already, irrevocably, broken and shattered, but we have each other. We heal each other and if I don’t make it, then I feel that my whole family will implode. Not just my parents and brothers but my sisters-in-law and my nieces and nephews; for them, for each and every one of them, I will live with this hole that life has punched through my chest. I will get through one day at a time, and I will do my best to live some semblance of a life.
“George?” Lennon’s voice makes me realise I’ve been quiet for
far too long.
“It is worse. It’s so much worse, Len. But this time, I know he’s not coming back. This time, I know there is nothing I can say or do; they’re not coming back. My husband and my baby are gone, and all I have are the memories, the pictures, the videos, the music.” I make a monumental effort to speak around the huge lump in my throat; it’s so big, it’s actually painful, but I push on. “I’m luckier than most, Len. Mine and Sean’s entire relationship has been documented. Out there somewhere are photos and videos, songs, interviews; there’s so much I can draw from, things I’ve never seen before and want to. I want to see it all. I want to hear him and see him on my telly. I want to hear his songs on the radio, and I want every memory I can have of him.” I cuff my nose as my tears run. “It hurts, Len. It’s the most excruciating pain a human can endure, but I’ll take it. I’ll own it and I’ll wear it like a badge of honour. And I’ll get by because I have all of you. I’ll get by because of all of you and I’ll get by for all of you.” I know my brother’s crying; I’ve reduced two big brothers to a blubbering mess in the space of two days; who’d have thought. I pause and draw breath again. “I’m coming home, Len. Not till next week. I can’t be there this weekend, but I want to be back there with all of you. I miss you all and I’m ready.” There are a few seconds of silence.
“George, seriously, I don’t even know where to begin. I don’t know how to reply to what you’ve just said.”
“Then don’t say anything, Len, but don’t hide things from me, either. If the band is gonna split up, tell me. I won’t fall apart. I promise,”
“Well, that’s good to hear, George. Now you need to ring little brother Marley and convince him.” I don’t like that term. I’m not trying to convince anyone. I’m just stating a fact.
“Well then, I will just have to call and let him know the facts.”
We end the call with me promising to let him know as soon as my flights are booked, and in the end, Lennon can’t help but let his control-freakery take over: he decides it will be better for him to book my flights. I’m fine with that; one less thing for me to worry about.
I call Marley next, but I get no answer, so I leave a voice message and tell him I will call later. I try Ash but she’s not answering either. I sit on my bed with my legs crossed and stare down at my phone. I know whose number I want to call. I know whose voice I want to hear, but I’m not entirely sure why. I’ve had this ache inside me; ever since I spoke to Cam on Saturday night, it’s been there, and I’m struggling with it. I’ve just poured my heart out to my brother. I’ve just admitted that I keep going for my family, and because of them, I want to keep going. However, sitting here on my own, staring down at Cam’s number on the screen of the phone in my hand, I can’t do it; I won’t admit a single thing to myself.