by Kyra Lennon
Drew nodded slowly as my words sunk in. The distance in his eyes told me he had more to say, and after a couple of minutes’ silence, he said, “I’m sorry I brought up Jason’s cocaine addiction on TV.”
“Is that why you’ve been so quiet since then?”
“Partly. I didn’t mean to say so much, but everything came out, everything he did. I know he doesn’t care if people know, but I do.”
Because he’s still your brother, and although he pisses you off, you still want to protect him. This was the world they’d gotten into, though. Whether Drew revealed his past or not, Jason’s drug abuse would have filtered through to the public one way or another; that’s how fame works. The more famous a person gets, the more scandal people want to hear. Especially if that person is a mysterious rock band front man.
“I’m worried about you too, Ellie. You’re going to get pulled into this eventually. Especially if people find out what he did to your family.” His head lowered. “And what he did to you.”
My stomach clenched and I held Drew tighter again, just like I did the day it happened. I’d worked hard to push the incident out of my mind, and while I was certainly worried about what the fake feud would do to the boys, there was a hint of selfishness in my argument. Just because I forgave Jason didn’t mean I wanted to be reminded of all he put us through again.
“I won’t talk about it, Drew. No matter what happens. They could offer me a million pounds and my own private island with Chris Hemsworth as my personal slave, and I still wouldn’t talk about it.”
Drew cracked a smile. “Chris Hemsworth, huh? That’s who does it for you?”
No. You do it for me.
Since I couldn’t tell him out loud, I said, “All I want in a man is strength and a big-”
“Ellie, stop!”
“Heart!” I finished, laughing. “What did you think I was going to say?”
Drew grinned. “I never know with you.”
Unsure what he meant and afraid to ask, I snuggled into him. Everything around us was alien, changing all the time. But in the moment, none of it mattered because we had each other. Safe in our own little cocoon.
The first thing that happened when I turned my phone on after I stepped off the flight from Glasgow was the arrival of a text message from my sister, Lucy:
Don’t panic, but buy a newspaper.
So obviously, I panicked.
I dragged my bag behind me, fighting my way through the unusually busy shopping area to get to the news stand. I knew something would be in the papers after the incident at the club but I didn’t want to see it. The fact Lucy had told me to buy a paper meant only one thing. I was in the paper.
When I reached the newspaper stand, I was pleased to see we hadn’t made the front page of Britain’s best loved tabloids. I grabbed one from the shelf, and flicked to the entertainment section. The top of the page displayed a full colour photo of me running off stage, under the headline ‘Mystery Woman Razes Hell At Scottish Gig.’
My eyes scanned the text; mostly it was a mini review of the gig, but the journalist had also posed the question of who I was, and if Jason and I were “just friends” based on him calling me beautiful.
Is that all it takes to make a headline?
I flipped through a couple of different newspapers to check what else had been said about me, but it was only more of the same. Nothing about Jason’s drunken pratfall off the bar at the club.
As much as I loathed Derek, I’d never been able to fault his ability to quickly clean up a potential shit storm, though why he would when the shit storm was exactly what he wanted, I had no idea.
From inside my jeans pocket, my phone rang.
Jason.
He had taken an earlier flight, and Drew and Mack had gotten up earlier than the ass-crack of dawn to drive the van and equipment home, and I’d flown back with Joey.
“Hey, Ellie. Okay, don’t freak out -”
“I’ve seen the paper.” I ducked my head, in case some eagle-eyed music fan recognised me from my debut as tabloid fodder. The picture of me wasn’t a close-up, but even the small possibility of being spotted made me a little paranoid.
“Yeah, about that. I need to talk to you. Are you at home yet?”
His uneasy tone made me nervous. Of all people, I’d expected him to be the one making jokes and telling me it was no big deal.
“I’m at the airport. What’s going on?”
“Derek called. Everyone’s gone nuts about this story. He’s kind of encouraged the idea that you… you’re… part of the fight between Drew and me.”
Sickness swirled in my gut. “What do you mean?”
“Some people think you might be a factor in why Drew suddenly hates me, and Derek said he’ll make an official statement later.”
That explained why Derek had halted the drunken bar story. Two brothers fighting? Interesting. Two brothers fighting over a woman? Priceless.
I knew only too well how the media could spin an innocent situation into something scandalous; you can’t open a magazine or go online without the newest sensationalised celebrity story hitting you in the face, but it had never been a problem for me before. I stayed under the radar because, firstly, I never wanted to be in the spotlight, and secondly, I didn’t want my career tangled up with the band’s. I wanted to sell my work on my own merits, not because I had connections with famous people. Becoming successful by association would be tantamount to cheating.
“Tell him from me if he encourages this rumour any further, he can expect to find himself in court.”
“Ellie-”
“No! I don’t care what he has planned. I won’t be any part of it.”
My brain flicked back to the argument I’d overheard between Jason and Drew the night before.
Oh. Suddenly the truth behind the words they’d yelled at each other became clear.
Well, Drew was right. Dragging someone else into their publicity stunt was not okay. While Jason had always been a little selfish, he’d also been careful about keeping me out of the spotlight. This whole idea was juvenile and ridiculous, not to mention another slap in the face for Drew, who presumably I was supposed to have trampled over to get with Jason. I didn’t ask for details. Didn’t want them. Whatever Derek the Dick had planned, I was shutting it down.
“Wait,” I said, my mind reeling. “Did you know this was going to happen? Is that why you dragged me up on stage last night?”
Jason paused. “Not exactly. Derek asked us if you might want to help – his word, not mine. We’re already doing better since New Year. People want to book us for TV appearances, and we’ve sold more albums this week than we did in the last six months.”
“How is me getting between you and Drew helpful? And when have I ever come between you before?”
“You haven’t. That’s what makes you so perfect. We both know you’d never really come between us, so-”
“Are you seriously asking me to be a part of this?”
Another pause. “I think it would be good for the band.”
“Okay, let me ask you again. This time I want to talk to the person who has been my best friend my whole life, not the one who thinks fame is more important than anything else.”
“I don’t think fame is more important, Ellie. I just didn’t want to miss an opportunity.”
“This isn’t an opportunity for you! It’s an opportunity for Derek to line his pockets!”
“Okay! You don’t want to be a part of it. Fine. Sorry.”
I let out a long, slow breath. He knew I’d never be involved in a lie. Knew. But when he wanted something, he’d go out of his way to make it happen. In some ways, I’d always admired that side of him. Without it, he wouldn’t have taken the band as far as he had. That side of him was also the thing that landed him in heaps of trouble, and everything about this plan screamed trouble.
When I got back to my flat I changed into some old clothes, cranked up the radio, and headed to my work room to paint.
>
The first thing I did when I moved in – before setting up my bedroom – was create a designated room for work. My art room became the one place I allowed myself to make a mess. Newspaper covered the wooden floor, and rough sketches were tacked to the walls. A huge stack of projects I’d yet to work on sat in the corner next to my easel, which usually held an unfinished piece of art. The walls were covered with grey smears since I had a tendency to jot ideas on them with a pencil then use an eraser to rub them off later. My work room also had a potter’s wheel which I rarely used, but kept for days when I felt extra creative and needed to relax.
Actually, the real reason was because I wanted my Patrick Swayze/Demi Moore moment, but it hadn’t happened.
Yet.
I worked slowly, unsure what to create. “Free painting” was an exercise I often used when stressed because it didn’t involve the use of my brain. With watercolours and paintbrushes at my side, I painted random swirls and blobs while singing along to the radio. After a while, I lost myself in the melodies rather than the painting. As one of my favourite songs played, I put my paintbrush down and focused on singing instead. Beautiful lyrics always transported me far away from my worries, and I forgot about everything that had been bothering me since Jason’s call.
As the second verse began, another voice joined in behind me. I spun around to find Drew in the doorway, grinning.
“If you’re gonna sing that loud, you should consider locking your door.”
“Jesus Christ.” I covered my hammering heart with my hand. “You could have knocked!”
“I did. You didn’t hear me, so I followed the sound of your voice and the smell of that cranberry stuff you use on your hair.”
My cheeks grew hot. I could have sworn I’d locked the door, and if I’d been singing so loud I didn’t hear his knock, half the building had probably suffered the sound of me wailing with the melody of a dying cat.
“Don’t be sorry. You sounded good.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to make sure you’re okay. My brother’s an idiot.”
“Yeah. Sometimes he can be.”
“I told him, Ells. I told him not to ask.”
Drew leaned against the door frame, his expression somewhere between irritation and exhaustion.
Letting out a sigh, I went to him and let him envelope me in his arms. Wrapped in Drew’s arms was one of my favourite places to be, joint first with my king-sized bed, except my bed didn’t hug me back. Drew’s hands on my waist made me shiver and I rested my head against his chest.
“How angry is Derek that I’m not getting involved?”
“He’s okay. When Jason mentioned you threatened legal action, he quickly backtracked.”
“I don’t want my name dragged into this, Drew. I’ve got my own career to think of.”
“You don’t need to tell me. I know.”
“Why didn’t Jason consider that?”
“Because he’s Jason. He’s so busy trying to do what he thinks is best for the band, he doesn’t think about anyone else. He’s a selfish prick.”
“He’s not that bad. I just want him to consider what he’s asking before steaming ahead and trampling on everyone around him.”
“As I said, a selfish prick.”
Right there. That was what I’d worried about since the feud started. It was obvious from Drew’s mood that sooner or later the resentment would take over and he wouldn’t be able to hold his anger in any longer. I refused to be pulled into a battle of petty name-calling though, even if Drew’s words held a glimmer of truth.
“You need to stop.” I shrugged free from his hold and turned towards the mess of a painting left unfinished on my easel. “If you really don’t want me in the middle of all this, you need to stop talking right now.”
I picked up my paintbrush, my hand and swept black lightning bolts onto the paper, interspersed with the occasional cloud. It looked like a child’s attempt at drawing the weather, but the point of the exercise was not to create a masterpiece. It was to use art to clear my head, and right then, my head space was cloudy with a chance of storms.
At least ten minutes passed before I checked whether Drew still in the doorway. He hadn’t made a sound, so perhaps he’d gone home while I smeared my frustration across the canvas.
He hadn’t moved. He watched me from the exact position I’d left him in, his eyes a mixture of sad and tired, his lips set in a firm line.
“I miss your smile.”
The words sort of came out of nowhere, but they were true. He’d always had this older-than-his-years look, but since the beginning of the year, his forehead had been almost permanently wrinkled, his mouth down-turned. The first time I saw him laugh in ages was during the Glasgow sound check, when I’d been mucking around on stage. His smile made his eyes shine and took away the impression he carried the weight of the world on his broad shoulders.
“Talk to me, Drew.”
“I don’t think you want to hear me.”
I dropped my paintbrush carelessly on top of my paints and picked up an old rag to wipe my hands.
“I don’t want to hear you tell me how selfish you think Jason is.”
“Then there’s nothing else to say.”
He started to turn away, and I threw the paint-stained cloth on the floor, frustrated because I hated being part of this tug of war. Hated that the one time Drew wanted to open up, I pushed him away.
Hated that he didn’t get how awkward it was to be stuck between my best friend and the man who consumed my thoughts.
“Wait.”
“No, you’re right.” Drew headed for the door, forcing me to follow so I could hear him. “You can’t be in the middle, which means I can’t talk to you.”
I grabbed his wrist. “Stop. Please.”
His pulse pounded against my fingertips but I didn’t loosen my grip. Instead, I held firm until the rise and fall of his shoulders slowed.
“I thought I could handle all this, but I can’t. I’ve got more TV interviews next week, and I… I don’t want to keep bringing up all the crap from the past. I never wanted any of this.”
“Why you didn’t say so before it started?”
“I thought it would be okay. I didn’t expect to feel like this.”
“Like what?”
“Like it’s real.”
Drew’s eyes met mine with such heaviness behind them, the only thing I could think of to do was hug him. He didn’t put his arms around me right away. When he did, he held me tightly, his chin rested on the top of my head.
I never knew it was possible to feel someone’s pain through a hug before. Everywhere our bodies touched seemed to tingle with Drew’s sadness, like some kind of emotional osmosis, and my chest ached for him.
What hurt one of us, hurt us all – like The Three Musketeers, but with drums and guitars instead of swords.
“I don’t hate him, Ells. I don’t want you to think that.”
“I never thought you did. I know why you feel the way you do, and I understand. Your whole life has revolved around Jason, but you underestimate yourself. You’re not doing so badly.”
He let go of me, and slowly paced the hallway. “I know I’m lucky, but I’ve wasted so much time looking out for him, and when he hits rock bottom, he still comes out on top. If it was me, if I was the screw up, I wouldn’t have what he has. He always lands on his feet.”
I wrapped my arms around myself to replace the warmth lost when Drew moved away from me. “He lands on his feet because he has you. If you’d left him to go his own way, he would have kept on making mistakes. Maybe you should be proud of that instead of angry.”
Drew shook his head. “I don’t think you understand at all.”
“So tell me.”
He scrubbed his hands roughly through his hair. “I did, but like always, like everyone else, you’re only focused on the end result, not all the shit I went through to get there.”
“Hey.” I caught h
is arm again to make him stop. “I was there too, remember? I watched you go through hell while you tried to help Jason, and I remember how much of a bastard he was to both of us, but what’s the point in stewing over it?”
A bitter laugh escaped his lips. “I should have expected that from you. You were always out with him, getting drunk. It didn’t help.”
I flinched as his words flew out and hit me; as forceful and penetrating as spears stabbing through my chest. Drew was always only one touchy comment away from reminding me he was the adult and I was his brother’s childish friend. It still hurt every time he pulled out that particular card. Did he think I didn’t regret the “old days” when Jason and I got hammered most nights, and did stupid stuff like falling asleep in a drunken heap outside Jason’s flat because we were too pissed to get through the door? It didn’t take long for me to realise nursing hangovers and vomiting up last night’s kebabs was not how I wanted to live my life.
“Getting drunk on a few nights out is hardly the crime of the century!” I snapped. “You weren’t the only one who kept him out of trouble. The times I had to stop him getting into stupid, petty fights over spilled drinks. The times I wrestled drugs out of his hands! I sat with both of you when he was completely off his brain to be sure nothing bad happened to him. If anyone drove him to it, it was you! Always telling him he was being stupid. If you’d backed off, he might have figured things out for himself!”
Drew stared at me then his eyes closed. I knew I’d gone too far, but he had too. Just as I’d wanted to punch him in the face a second ago, I’d have done anything to take away the pain that kept him locked in the horrible place he couldn’t forget.
“Do you ever blame yourself?” Drew asked. “Do you ever think you should have done more to stop Jason doing the things he did?”
I slid my hand down his arm, and clasped my fingers around his. “Of course. But deep down I know there was nothing. They were his choices. What could I do to stop him?”