Sing With Me: A With Me In Seattle Universe Novel

by Anna Edwards

  “Yes, there’s a lot of testosterone flying around when you’re all in the room together, and a lot of flesh. I’ve never seen as much of the male body as I have in the last few weeks.” I laugh.

  “I might have to have a word with the others about it.” Tate’s brow furrows.

  “Please don’t. They’ve got nothing on you. There’s no need for you to worry.”

  “That’s because I’m perfect.” Tate leans in and kisses me on the lips. As he does, a flash goes off from somewhere close by. Shocked, I pull back.

  “What was that?” I question, looking around to see if I can see anything.

  “Press probably. Word’s got out I’m here.” Tate shuts his eyes and rubs his hand over his forehead. “I think you might have a lot of press work to do tomorrow.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It wouldn’t surprise me if in a few hours you’re named as my girlfriend.” My breath is taken away at his words. “Breathe, Zoey.” Tate strokes my hand. “It’s okay—it’ll be fine.”

  The waiter arrives with our food, and Tate starts digging in. I munch slowly on little pieces, but the food gets stuck in my throat. I’m panicking. I hadn’t thought about my relationship with Tate going public. It’s definitely not what I was employed to do. What if Fred gets mad? Shit. I’m going to be in big trouble. I could be fired, and I can’t afford for that to happen. What am I going to do? I’ve just got to prove I’m invaluable, and I’m not just here as Tate’s girlfriend. I’ll keep working my butt off so nobody can question my ability. I just have to hope it works.

  Chapter 20

  Tate

  #WhyWouldntYouLetMeMournMySisterIn TheRightWay

  As expected, the next morning, the photo of me kissing Zoey is the top news story on most of the outlets. It isn’t what I needed today of all days, not when I have other things to think about. I’m meeting my parents for lunch so we can commemorate Heidi’s birthday. I can’t help wondering what sort of life my sister would have had if she’d not been addicted to heroin. Would she be married by now? Would I be an uncle? I hope I’d have been a cool one and not an embarrassment to any nieces or nephews. But I’ll never get a chance to discover what they would have thought of me, because they’ll never exist. Heidi is dead, and her memory fading—it’s been so long now.

  I’ve been moping around the hotel room all morning. The rest of the band have gone out to practice for tonight’s concert, but I don’t want to join them. I’m not sure where Zoey is. She disappeared first thing, telling me she needed to put out press releases and make sure everything was ready for tonight. She doesn’t want all the news to be about our relationship. She’s determined to highlight how I was kind to the fans at the restaurant and for other band related stories to be included.

  She seems really stressed, so I don’t want to burden her with my grief. Instead I’ve been sitting on the big bed in the hotel room with paper scattered around me for a couple of hours. No words have come, though. My brain is dead today. No imagination or inspiration is hitting me. It’s like I feel numb again. I can only remember the worst day of my life and how it changed so much within me.

  “Tate, are you in here?” Zoey shouts from the front door of the suite.

  “In the bedroom,” I reply, and she pokes her head around the corner of the entrance to the room.

  “I’m going to grab a bite to eat, and then I’m heading back out. It’s been a manic morning. Everyone is trying to get as much information on me as possible, but I’m managing to turn them around onto the good deeds Saving Tate has been doing.”

  An idea hits me. It’s probably stupid, but I really don’t want to face my parents alone.

  “Why don’t you come for lunch with me? I’m heading out in a minute to meet my parents.”

  Zoey fully enters the room and places numerous bags and papers on the floor. She comes over to me and wraps her arms around me.

  “I wish I could, but I’m just so busy. I have to prove I’m good at my job. Maybe we can meet them when we go back to America.”

  I open my mouth to remind her it’s Heidi’s birthday, and I’d really like her to be there, but Zoey is already picking up her belongings and rushing from the room. She’s like a demon possessed—desperate to prove herself.

  “I promise I’ll make it up to you later, Tate. I just need to do this,” she adds before disappearing.

  Anger rises in me that she’s forgotten and has become totally focused on her own worries. I know what this job means to her—she should know I’d never let anyone fire her. But while Zoey is concerned about her future, I’m obsessed with the past. It probably isn’t the best combination at the moment.

  “Don’t worry,” I shout after her. “You do what you need to.” Then I whisper to myself, “I’ll face this myself. It’s what I’ve always done.”

  I pick up all the pieces of paper strewn around me. The song I wrote for Heidi is on the top, and I read it through again. Why the fuck didn’t she try to save herself? How could she do it? If I ever get my hands on the bastards who sold her those drugs, I’ll kill them. I’ll castrate them and peel their skin from their bodies, bit by bit. I hate them so much.

  Taking the song, I rip it up into several pieces and throw it back down on the bed. I’ll never sing it live. I’ll never be able to reveal what happened to my sister. It will forever remain buried deep because that’s the way my parents want it to be.

  The weather has turned drizzly today, so I grab my jacket, and placing my wallet in the pocket, I make my way out of the hotel and head to the restaurant where I agreed to meet my parents. It’s a posh eatery with an upscale menu, located in the Marina District of Barcelona—our meal will cost a small fortune. It’s the restaurant my parents chose, but it’s not Heidi’s type of place at all. Even when she wasn’t addled by drugs, she was more of a burger and fries girl. The closest thing this restaurant will have to that will be a fine steak and pomme de fancy-ass fries. At least they’ll have beer so I can drown my sorrows. I’ve been drunk on stage before, and I’m just as good. Today, I need to lose myself at the bottom of a bottle.

  When I enter the restaurant, I’m rudely looked up and down by the snotty maître d’hôtel.

  “We have a dress code here, sir.” He regards my jeans and t-shirt with disgust.

  “And I can buy this restaurant if I wanted to, so I suggest you shut the fuck up and show me to my seat and my parents.”

  “Are you Mr. Gordon?” He suddenly recognizes me.

  “Yes,” I reply sullenly.

  “This way, sir. We’ll forgo the dress code, this once. Your parents are already at the table.”

  I grunt some sort of response not really caring. If you‘re rich, these places will bend the rules because they know you’ll be spending plenty of money to line their pockets.

  As we reach the table, my parents stand. My father is dressed in a formal suit with a matching tie, and my mother in a black dress with her finest pearls around her neck. They are, as ever, the same old money, wealthy parents I grew up with. I love them, don’t get me wrong, but I just don’t need this charade today. I’d rather wallow in my own self-pity.

  “Tate, it’s lovely to see you.” My mother kisses both my cheeks.

  My father shakes my hand and looks me up and down.

  “Did you not pack a suit?”

  We all take our seats before I can reply,

  “It didn’t fit in among all the chinos and polo shirts,” I reply grumpily.

  “Are you all right?” My mother reaches across the table and takes my hand in hers. “I know it’s a difficult day. I’m worried about you. Are the others supporting you? The girl we saw with you on the news this morning, is she helping you?”

  “Leave Zoey out of this,” I growl in response.

  “Tate, your mother is concerned. There’s no need to speak to her in that manner,” my father scolds me.

  “Zoey is not a topic for discussion,” I reiterate not caring for my father’s reb
uke. “Hey, you.” I motion to a nearby waiter. “Bring me a beer. I don’t care which brand—you can choose, and I want a large whiskey as well.”

  He scurries away.

  “Tate have you been drinking?” my mother asks next, her eyes searching my face for signs I’m paralytic already.

  “No, Mother, I’m sober. Well, I will be until the waiter brings my drinks,” I speak loudly and people in the restaurant start to turn around to look at me.

  “Then, what has got into you?” My father leans forward, anger written across his face.

  “What has gotten into me?” I laugh. “How about ten years of lies and hiding the truth.”

  “Tate, enough,” my father scolds me again. This time through clenched teeth.

  The waiter arrives with my whiskey and beer, and I down the former without caring it burns my throat. I chase it down with a couple of mouthfuls of beer.

  “Another whiskey.” I catch the waiter before he leaves. The man looks at my father who shakes his head. “Hey, I’m the one paying this fucking bill, so listen to me not him and get me another drink.”

  “I think we should go.” My mother turns to my father who agrees with a nod of his head. “Tate, why don’t you take us back to your hotel, and we can discuss what’s worrying you there?”

  “No, how about we discuss it here? Stop hiding behind closed doors for once.”

  The waiter quickly returns with another whiskey, and I finish that one in two seconds as well.

  Everyone in the restaurant is looking at us now. A few people have their phones out and are recording the conversation I’m having with my parents, but I don’t care. Zoey wanted to prove she’s brilliant and worth her job, despite the fact she’s fucking me. Well, I’ll give her some work to do. I’m sick of hiding away from the truth.

  “Tate, please.” My father gets to his feet. “We’re leaving now. You’re upsetting your mother.”

  “No.”

  I stand up as well and slam both my fists down on the table, causing the finest grade silver cutlery and crystal glasses to rattle and tumble over. The maître d’ and a couple of waiters head our way, but I hold my hand up to them.

  “You’ll get paid damages so leave us be. I’ve got something I want to say first.”

  “Tate, please don’t. She wouldn’t want this,” my mother sobs.

  “What the fuck does she care about anymore? Heidi is dead, Mom. She didn’t die from some terminal illness like cancer. No, she shot an overdose of heroin into her arm when she was barely an adult. I was the one who found her…her skin pale, her eyes wide open, and vomit all around her. I was the one who watched as the paramedics tried to bring her back to life, sticking more needles into her, giving her more drugs to try to revive her, but nothing worked. I stood there and listened as they pronounced her dead, and then you both brushed it under the carpet as if it’d never happened. As if she’d never existed.”

  I’m shouting at the top of my voice, years of pent up frustration spilling out in a painful and bitter torrent of emotion. “She wasted her life, but we’re wasting her death not doing anything about it. Everyday people die from drug overdoses. I’m in a position now where I can talk about what I went through. If I manage to reach just one person, then that’s all that matters. If I can make them stop and think before they stick a needle in their arms, then Heidi’s death wasn’t in vain. At the moment, she’s rotting in her grave like every other junkie who’s been forgotten. I’m sorry. I won’t let it happen anymore. If it doesn’t fit in with your life and the society you keep, then tough. Disown me, I don’t care, but I’m not hiding what happened any longer. I owe it to Heidi.”

  The effects of two large whiskeys drunk in quick succession hit me, and I slump back down into my seat again. My mother’s sobbing is the only sound in a now silent room. Everyone stares at me, amazed at everything I’ve just revealed. My father sits back down as well, tears forming in his eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” he murmurs almost silently. “We thought it was the right thing to do to help you forget what you saw.”

  “It wasn’t. I can’t pretend anymore. I watched my sister die of a drug overdose. I was fifteen years old. I’m scarred, and it’s broken certain parts of me,” I reply, taking my mother’s hand when she places it down on the table. “We have to start living again, Dad. We can’t hide away any longer.”

  “I know.”

  My mom lets out a loud sob, and my father wraps his arms around her.

  “I’m sorry we did everything wrong,” my mother cries.

  “You did what you thought was right,” I offer, tears pricking my own eyes.

  “You know what?” My father points to the menu. “This isn’t Heidi—she wouldn’t have wanted a fancy meal. Why don’t we settle up here, give them a little extra for the trouble we’ve caused, and then go get a burger from McDonald's? I saw one on the way here.”

  My mother and I both nod simultaneously.

  “Yes!” I exclaim.

  Digging into my wallet, I bring out a bunch of bills and throw them on the table. It’s more than enough to cover the meal we would have had and leave a generous tip for the restaurant as an apology. I just want out of here. I want a processed burger, and I’m going to savor every last mouthful of it because it’s what my sister would have chosen. I miss her more than anything in the world.

  Chapter 21

  Zoey

  #IThinkMyHeartIsBreakingAllOverAgain

  I stand staring at Tate as he sleeps off his lunchtime excess, or more precisely, the stress of meeting with his mother and father. I feel terribly guilty for not joining him. I’d completely forgotten it was his sister’s birthday today, and if I’d known the truth about how she’d died, I’d have definitely been there at his side, supporting him.

  Even before he’d got back from the lunch with his parents, the news was everywhere on social media. I did everything I could to give answers to all the questions coming my way, but I really didn’t have anything to say until I spoke to Tate himself. When he finally returned to the hotel, he brought me back to the room we’re sharing and told me everything. He held me when I cried for him and his sister, and then we curled up together until he fell asleep, but my mind is in too much of a whirl to get any rest.

  Pulling the covers up around his shoulders so he doesn’t get cold, I leave Tate sleeping and head out into the lounge area. The other guys are sitting there and instantly get to their feet when they see me.

  “How is he?” Cameron is the first to ask.

  I know he’s worried about his best friend. Every day I see evidence of the bond between the two of them. They’re as close as brothers.

  “He’s sleeping. I’m letting him rest for a while.”

  “Will he be able to do the concert tonight?” Austin looks concerned, but I wave his trepidation away.

  “He’ll be fine to do the concert. He just needs a bit of rest. He’s had too much emotion pouring out of him in one go.”

  I’ve seen the video from the restaurant, which is currently circulating on social media—one of the other diners must have filmed what was happening and shared it. It hurt my heart to see Tate breaking down. It was like he was a different person. He’s always so calm and put together, but years of hiding his secret exploded from him in a painful and extremely hard to watch outpouring of emotion.

  Liam comes to my side and pulls me into his arms. The other guys follow suit, and we stand in a collective embrace. I need it. It takes away some of the guilt I feel, but not the worry.

  I don’t know if I have the skills to support Tate through this, and I’m concerned about how to feed the story to the press. The reporters will want to know everything about Heidi and how she died. They’ll dig up all they can because that’s what they do. It’s my job and my heart’s desire to look after Tate, but I’ve no idea how I’m going to protect him from having to relive it all repeatedly. I know the feelings I have for him are strong, but how can I help him when I don’t know what to
do for the best?

  “How are you?” Liam asks.

  “Shocked,” I reply. “Heartbroken…not because he didn’t tell me. I can understand his reasons. But knowing he’s had to hide this for so long is devastating. I’m glad you all knew and could support him when he needed it.”

  “Tate changed a lot that day. A part of him died with his sister,” Cameron explains as he moves away from us and sits down on one of the comfortable chairs in the brightly colored room. “His parents couldn’t face what happened either. It just became easier for them all to hide away from the truth.” Cameron stares out the window at the sea, unblinking. “I don’t know whether he’ll be able to get up on stage tonight and be the man we all know him to be. This could break him completely. We may not be able to save Tate anymore.”

  “Don’t say that, mate, please. Tate can get through this,” Liam responds as he leads me over to a chair and encourages me to sit down.

  “Yes, he can,” I add. “He’s strong. He supported me when I told him my mother is an alcoholic. It’s not that he can’t get through this, it’s the way he gets through it that’s important. He wants to help people so that’s the way we can help him, and how we’ll all get through this together.”

  “Tate told us you had issues at home, but he didn’t tell us about your mom. I’m sorry.” Cameron looks over to me.

  “Same,” Austin and Liam add.

  I don’t get a chance to respond, because my phone vibrates on the table in front of us.

  “That hasn’t stopped since you left it here. We put it on silent, but it still keeps vibrating.”

  “I’m afraid all the press calls come straight to me. It’s not going to stop making that noise anytime soon.”

  I reach out to answer the phone, but Liam picks it up first.

  “Miss Danson’s phone,” he says in a typical receptionist’s voice. “I’m sorry she can’t speak at the moment. She’s very busy, helping Saving Tate prepare for their concert tonight.” I try to grab the phone off Liam, but he moves farther away from me. “I know, it’s been frantic here since Mr. Gordon returned from his lunch. He’s such a brave man. We’re all awed by him for what he’s been through and the way he’s handling it. It makes me want to cry just thinking about him as a young boy finding his sister that way.”