by Daisy Allen
“Just, it’s my job, okay?”
I can tell there’s something he’s wanting to say but isn’t.
“What?” I press.
“I was going to make an insulting joke, but for once, I think you probably don’t deserve it.”
I raise my eyebrow, curious. “Well, now I have to hear it.”
“I was just going to say, I got four deadbeat musicians two Grammy awards for playing classical music in a year where the video with the roundest, jiggliest ass was the most popular form of entertainment. Finding the address of an ex-employee is a lazy morning for me.” He gives me a half-smile and I know he’s just as worried as the rest of us.
“You are the king,” I tell him.
“Seriously, though. I don’t know what you’re going to do with this information. And to be honest, I spent a lot of time wondering if I was going to give it to you. Be careful. I’m serious, it’s not just about her…and the kid. But you, you need to be careful how you tread from here.”
“What do you think I should do?” If anyone would know the right thing to do, it would be Dennis.
“I don’t have a clue. I’m sorry it’s come to this. I like her. Hell, I even like the sticky little kid. You guys don’t deserve this. Whatever’s going on, why she left and why she’s working for him now? I don’t know. I just know it’s not right.”
“Well, I know why. Well, I can guess. And you’re correct on that—it’s not right. It’s not right at all.”
He pats me on the shoulder, and not for the first time, I wonder where any of us would be if it weren’t for Dennis.
“Thank you, D.”
“You bet.”
I reach over to try to give him a man-hug. He pulls way, looking terrified for a moment, before batting me with his tattered leather notebook and making a run for it.
***
It’s Sunday here, and you’ve been gone almost a week. I miss you more than I did yesterday. By tomorrow, who knows if I’ll even be able to bear. I’ve found Ben’s sock, the one with the toes all different colors? I know he loves it. Tell him I’ve got it, and I’ll get it back to him one day. Tell him I promise it.
The message sends, and I close my eyes, ready for another night of missing them.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Emily
I read the text message. By the time I get to the end it’s blurry and I have to wipe my eyes to make out the words. Just like with all the other messages. I can’t quite make myself delete it, and archive it in a folder with the rest of them. Hidden until halfway through the night when I can’t sleep, and I take them out to read, one by one again.
At least we’re back home.
After leaving Bra—…after leaving Liverpool, Silas was at least reasonable enough to let me go home instead of joining them on the road immediately. I thought he was being especially generous, only to find out that his band was going to be based in London for the next few weeks anyway, doing a round of live interviews and shows, and rehearsing to work out some of their kinks.
I wasn’t going to complain though. The last thing I really wanted was to jump head-first into another tour, with people I didn’t know.
Ben is back in school, which is the best thing for him at this point. Brad or no Brad, in hindsight, taking him on the road at such a young age and while he was injured probably wasn’t the best thing for him. They say routine is the best thing for a child, and the tour with the Rock Chamber Boys was anything but that.
That’s what I tell myself though, when the doubt seeps in, and I hear him calling for Brad.
I try to ignore that fact that it was the trauma of leaving, not of being on tour that did the most damage. Instead I try to focus on the knowledge that in the long run, this will be the best thing for him.
For me, maybe not, but for him. Which is really the same thing, I guess.
The phone rings, and I brace myself. Either it’s Brad or it’s Silas. One I want to answer but can’t. And one I don’t want to answer, but will.
I glance at the screen and sigh.
“Yes, Silas?”
“Don’t know if you know, but we’ve got a show booked for tonight.”
“Yeah, I have the schedule.”
“Do you need us to come pick you up?”
“No.”
“Um, okay then. I guess I’ll see you there at six.”
I hang up the phone, keen to get away from him as soon as possible. I throwing the phone onto the bed.
I tell myself the initial anger and loathing will subside soon, and then we can move on. And somewhere, deep inside me, I try to believe that it will happen.
***
The band comes running off the stage to the sound of enthusiastic applause. They’ve played an eight-song set, mostly their own songs, with two covers as an encore.
I sit at a table in the back, taking notes.
They have a tried and true rock sound, and their lyrics have some depth. But the performance leaves me cold. And it has nothing to do with the music. I know though, that my write-up will be as objective as it can be, because in the end, my feelings toward Silas, not the band, are purely personal. The other members have had nothing to do with my situation and from what I’ve seen of them, there’s no reason for me to think of them as just like any artists, trying to make it big in the world.
“Hey.” Silas comes over to me, shaking some hands as he moves through the crowd.
“Hey.” I don’t look up from my notebook. There’s no reason to look at him more than I have to.
“How was it?” he asks, high-voiced, still hyped from his set.
“Good.”
“Any notes?”
“Uh, nope.”
“Okay, do you know what you’re going to write yet?”
“You can read it when I’m done before I send it off.”
“Emily.”
I force myself to meet his gaze in response, raising an eyebrow.
“Is everything okay?”
“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 heart, 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 h
andful 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.