My Own Personal Rockstar

by Kirsty McManus

  With the sound levels apparently ready to go, the stage clears, and the lights go down. The start of an old Rolling Stones song plays as Lincoln and his band take their places. The crowd goes wild, my cheering joining the cacophony of noise.

  I sneak a glance at Millicent, and I’m pleased to see she doesn’t look completely bored. In fact, I think she’s almost as happy as me. She just wouldn’t ever admit it.

  “Good evening, everyone,” Lincoln says, that tingle-inducing voice booming out from the stage. “We’re so happy to be starting our national tour here in my hometown. We hope you enjoy what we’ve got for you tonight. We’ll be playing a mix of covers, but also introducing a little original material.”

  The crowd cheers louder. I’m so pleased he’s finally gathered the courage to play his own music.

  He picks up a guitar and slings the strap over his shoulder. “But first, we need to get you warmed up!” He strums a loud chord, and the other guys join in for the opening of Muse’s Supermassive Black Hole.

  I love this song, having been a fan long before Twilight stole it for their baseball scene. I watch mesmerised as Lincoln effortlessly emulates Matt Bellamy’s falsetto. It’s so sexy, seeing him up there in his element. He hasn’t lost any of the appeal he had on Sing to Me. And while his voice sounds a bit edgier, a little angrier, I think it’s an improvement. If I didn’t know that he had to go through such a heartbreaking situation to get that sound, I think I’d prefer it.

  We’re so far back that it would be unlikely for him to see us. Half of me is disappointed, but the other half would feel a little self-conscious if he knew we were here.

  The show is amazing. Lincoln is ‘on’, bantering with the crowd and enjoying the synergy with his bandmates.

  But as with all Lincoln encounters, it’s over way too quickly. He and the guys leave the stage after the last song, and I’m left wanting more.

  However, apparently, so does the crowd. They clap and cheer louder and louder until they return for another couple of tunes.

  The first thing they play is a cover of Bon Jovi’s Keep the Faith. But finally, Lincoln sings the song he showed Felix and me in Sydney.

  I watch, my eyes glued to him the entire time. Tonight, I imagine he’s singing it for me.

  And then, by chance, he looks in my direction, and the corner of his mouth turns up in a pleased acknowledgement. That one tiny gesture turns my entire body to jelly. I look at Millicent, and she gives me a knowing smile.

  He finishes the song, and the band leaves for the final time. The lights go up, and I audibly sigh.

  “You’re smitten, aren’t you?” Millicent says.

  “I’ve always been smitten.”

  “What do you want to do now?”

  “I’m not sure. Go out into the beer garden for a drink? I’m too wound up to head straight home.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll just go to the ladies’, and then I’ll see you out there. Can you order me a red wine?”

  “Sure.”

  I head over to the bar, reliving the moment I made eye contact with Lincoln during the show over and over.

  I’m a lost cause.

  FIFTEEN

  Tash

  I patiently wait at the bar and order two glasses of red wine. The energy from the post-show audience is palpable. After paying for the drinks, I stand in the corner, breathing it in. These people are all feeling great because of Lincoln and his band.

  Millicent takes her time but eventually finds me. She takes her glass and rests a hand on my arm.

  “Okay, I’m going to tell you something, but I want you to promise you’ll behave.”

  I narrow my eyes at her. “What are you talking about?”

  “Promise?”

  “I don’t know what I’m promising.”

  “That you won’t take advantage of Lincoln when we go backstage.”

  My eyes widen. “We’re going backstage?”

  She nods, obviously pleased with herself. “I had a chat with the security guard, and I convinced him to ask Lincoln if we could go say hi. He agreed.”

  I let out an excited squeak. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!”

  She hands me a pass on a lanyard to put around my neck. “You’d better get that out of your system now. This is what I’m talking about. We’re going to act like actual human beings and not be weird around the guy.”

  “Have I ever embarrassed myself in his presence before?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t always been there. But I suspect you may have.”

  I think back to the plane ride where I first met him. Admittedly, I was a little frazzled at the beginning, but he clearly didn’t hold it against me.

  “Don’t worry. You won’t regret this.”

  “I’m actually doing this for me. Did you see the bass player?”

  I laugh. “Not really. I was too busy watching the singer.”

  “Well, let’s go. We don’t want to keep them waiting.”

  I feel like a giggly schoolgirl skipping out on class. We reach the backstage door and flash our passes. The guard stands aside. I’ve never done anything like this before.

  We head down a narrow hall and come to what looks like a converted shipping container. One of the doors is open, and inside, one wall is lined with old couches. Lincoln and his band are lounging around, drinking beers and chatting.

  Lincoln glances over and sees me. His face lights up in a smile very close to the type I remember from before his break-up.

  “Tash! Missy! Come in!”

  I nervously enter. Millicent acts like she does this all the time and struts over, plonking herself down beside the bassist.

  “That was a great set,” she says to him.

  He is instantly entranced, but I continue to stand awkwardly near the door.

  Lincoln scooches to the side of his couch. “Come sit down. I’m so glad you could make it. I would have given you both free tickets if I knew you wanted to come.”

  I walk over and sit beside him. I’m just as nervous as I was back on the plane. “Don’t be silly. We were happy to be paying customers. That show was amazing. And you did your own stuff!”

  “Yeah. The guys and I decided it was time. And Max, the guy who signed us up for this whole thing, was happy for us to experiment. I think it went down okay.”

  “It went down phenomenally! I was in the middle of the crowd, and I know for a fact they loved it.”

  He smiles appreciatively. “I’m glad you think so. Hey, are you right for a drink?”

  I hold up my half-full red wine. “Good for now.”

  He downs the rest of his beer and slams the bottle on the coffee table in front of him. “I think I need something a little stronger than this.” He turns to his drummer. “Beau, where’s the tequila?”

  Beau is sitting beside a box and pulls a bottle out, handing it to Lincoln.

  “Now we just need shot glasses.” He looks around. “Does anyone know where the shot glasses are?”

  A passing crew member stops. “I can get some from the bar?”

  “Good man. Thank you.”

  Lincoln focuses on me. “How’s your business going?”

  I find it unsettling to be on the receiving end of such an intense gaze. “Great, actually. We almost ran out of stock in the first few days, but we managed to speed up production just in time. Initial feedback is that everyone’s loving the product. Hopefully, next year, we can expand the range and number of outlets that stock them.”

  He suddenly reaches out and touches my hair. “I love your fire hair.”

  Oh my.

  “Thank you.”

  It would be so easy to flirt back and run my hands through his curls, but I know I have to tread carefully. It hasn’t been that long since Rachel and the girls left. He’d still be mourning their loss. Possibly even starting a court case to regain some sort of visitation rights. I don’t need to complicate his life right now.

  He sits there, continuing to look at me with a sm
all smile on his face. I don’t know what to do, so I stare at the floor.

  “Do I make you nervous?” he asks.

  “A little,” I admit.

  “Why?”

  Because you are hot as hell, and I’ve been dreaming about sleeping with you for quite some time now.

  “I don’t know. You just do.”

  He chuckles. “I…”

  He’s cut off by the crew member returning with a bunch of shot glasses. He plants them in Lincoln’s hands.

  Lincoln lines them all up on the table. “Who’s having shots?”

  Millicent looks over. “Me.”

  Almost everyone in the room yells some form of agreement, so Lincoln pours eight shots. He hands one to me and picks one up for himself. He holds it up in the air. “To a successful tour.”

  The rest of the band cheers. I raise my glass in Lincoln’s direction and then slam it back.

  I wince as it warms the back of my throat.

  Lincoln is already pouring himself another.

  And then another.

  He doesn’t stop until he’s had six shots of tequila in less than two minutes.

  He leans back on the couch and puts his arm out so it’s resting just behind my head.

  I could never in a million years have imagined being in this situation, but I’m still wary. Even more now that Lincoln has had all that alcohol.

  “How’s Daisy?” he asks.

  “She’s good. With her grandparents tonight.”

  “So, you don’t have to be home by any particular time?”

  “Uh…”

  His eyes twinkle. “Relax. I’m just making conversation.”

  “Well, I do have a work call in the morning, but it’s not something I need to prepare for.”

  He nods, satisfied.

  “Was your first show everything you hoped?” I ask, trying to get back on safer ground.

  “Definitely. I’m really looking forward to the rest of the tour.”

  “Where are you going next?”

  “Next weekend, we head south down the east coast and then to all the other states after that. We’re playing four nights a week until almost the middle of October.”

  “That’s exciting. I’ll bet you’ll get lots of groupies fighting over you.”

  Why on earth did I say that? That makes me sound like a jealous girlfriend.

  He raises an eyebrow. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see. We didn’t get many over the last few years when we were doing smaller gigs.” His face clouds over. “But then I never really hung around after a show, because I always wanted to get home to the girls.”

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything…”

  “No, it’s okay. I knew I’d have to deal with these feelings eventually. This is my first show without anyone to go home to.”

  It takes all my resolve not to offer my bed tonight. But that wouldn’t help anyone.

  I look at Millicent. She’s rubbing her hand up and down the bassist’s thigh. Lincoln follows my gaze and laughs.

  “She looks like she’s enjoying herself.”

  “I apologise for Millicent. She’s not a shrinking violet by any means.”

  “You don’t have to apologise for your friend. We’re all grown adults here letting off steam.”

  He leans his head on my shoulder, and I tense up.

  “You know, I thought the worst thing that could ever happen was when the record label dropped me a year after I was on Have You Got What It Takes? But you don’t realise that everyone loves a comeback. Unless you’re a complete tool, people like to see you rise again and be happy. But with Rachel…” he trails off.

  “It’s hard to come back from, huh?” I say quietly.

  “I don’t know how to come back from it. How do you get your head around the fact that someone you loved actively lied to you for four years?”

  “I’m not sure. I guess just give yourself time to feel all those crappy emotions and surround yourself with good people.”

  “But I thought she was good people!” he says, anguished. “I never once suspected she was anything but genuine.”

  “I’m so sorry you’re going through this. I know, to a lesser extent, what it feels like to be abandoned.”

  “How did you cope after your ex left?”

  I smile dryly. “I didn’t, really. I just knew I had to be strong for Daisy and get on with it. My parents and Millicent have been amazing. If it helps, I promise to always be real with you and try to be what Millicent has been to me.”

  He leans his head closer to my face. “You are awesome, Tash…”

  I feel like things are getting a little out of control. Lincoln is drunk and vulnerable, and if I let this go any further, we’re both going to regret the aftermath.

  I gently extricate myself from him and stand up. “I should go. But please contact me anytime if you need to vent.”

  He smiles ruefully. “Sure.”

  I go over and grab Millicent’s arm. “We have to go,” I whisper in her ear.

  She looks up, annoyed. “You’re killing me, Tash.”

  “Sorry, but I need to give Lincoln some space. If you want to stay, I’ll catch an Uber on my own and see you later.”

  She sighs loudly. “No, no. I’ll go with you.”

  She finds a pen in her handbag and writes her phone number on the bassist’s arm with a big love heart. “Call me,” she says before following me back outside.

  “I can’t believe you’re the one making me go home,” Millicent says.

  “It would have gotten messy if I’d stayed.”

  She stops and looks at me with respect. “Babe, I am so proud of you right now.”

  “Thanks. It was pretty hard saying no to the guy, but it was the right thing to do.”

  Now, if only my raging hormones would agree with me.

  I think I need a long, cold shower.

  SIXTEEN

  Lincoln

  I never drink like this. What is wrong with me? I’m just like my parents, getting hammered because I’m too scared to face uncomfortable emotions. I should be better than that.

  As soon as Tash and Millicent leave, I come to my senses. I didn’t even think about how poor Tash must have been feeling. She does not deserve someone who is so mentally fucked up right now. The woman is sweet and caring and beautiful. But any feelings I have for her right now are confused. I still love Rachel, despite everything she did to me. And if she suddenly returned with the girls and begged my forgiveness, there’s a big chance I would take her up on it.

  But would I, really? Should I? Trust is kind of a big deal with me, and it’s been well and truly betrayed with Rachel keeping such a monumental secret from me. For four fucking years! Who does that?

  It’s been two months since I’ve heard from her or the girls, and it’s killing me. I’ve contacted a lawyer to try and figure out what to do, but everything is moving so slowly. I’ve called Rachel’s parents in the UK—since Rachel disconnected her mobile from Australia—but they wouldn’t tell me anything the first time I spoke to them, and now they won’t even answer the phone.

  I’ve contemplated flying over there and forcing them to let me see the girls, but I’m contractually obliged to remain in the country until the tour is over. Even before today, I had to stay for rehearsals. I tried to explain to Max what happened, but while he was sympathetic, he wouldn’t let me leave.

  For now, I’m doing everything I possibly can to get access.

  It’s so damn hard, though. The least Rachel could do is let me Skype them. Surely, they would have asked about me. What would she have told them? Every day I wake up and struggle to get out of bed, wondering where they are and what they’re doing. I still can’t process that they’re not biologically mine, but I don’t even care. I wonder if their real father knows. Has Rachel reconciled with him? Are they all now one big happy family in London? I hate that I don’t know anything.

  And on top of that, everything in our house reminds
me of them. I’m kind of looking forward to getting away and staying in hotels for a while so I can pretend they’re all still waiting for me at home.

  Man, I’m messed up. And I resent that Rachel timed her departure so it would essentially ruin the experience of my first proper tour. But at least I’m staying occupied.

  I look at my watch. It’s almost 2am. I’m going home to sleep.

  I throw all my stuff in the back of a cab and say goodbye to the guys. I hear them talking about continuing the party back at one of their houses, but I’m not interested in joining them.

  By the time I get home and take all my equipment inside, it’s almost three. But now the last thing I feel like doing is sleeping. I open my laptop and scan social media. Rachel has blocked me from all her accounts, so I can’t look at any photos of the girls she might be posting.

  I mindlessly scroll through Instagram, looking at the latest offerings. And then I see a picture Tash published yesterday. It’s a photo of her meals stocked in a supermarket with her standing beside them, pointing and grinning.

  I instantly click the heart icon and stare at her face for a moment. Something stirs in me that I didn’t think was possible. A tiny, tiny thread of hope that I might one day be happy again. And if I could end up with someone as talented and beautiful as Tash, I would be very lucky.

  I still feel bad about how I treated her tonight, so I google online florists that can deliver at short notice.

  After selecting a bouquet and paying a ridiculous amount in delivery to ensure it gets to her house this morning, I turn off my computer, feeling a bit better.

  The sun is just peeking over the horizon by the time I finally collapse into bed.

  The combination of having done a big show and drinking more than I’m used to, along with the emotional toll of the last few months, finally hits me. I close my eyes and black out, welcoming oblivion.

  SEVENTEEN

  Tash

  One downside of having a young child is that even when she stays with my parents overnight, I still wake up early the next day. Millicent decided to go back to her place to sleep last night, and I’m wide awake at 6am, despite not getting to bed until around two.