Strike: Dax

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Strike: Dax Page 22

by Heather C. Leigh


  “Two months ago.”

  Clenching my jaw, I attempt to calm down. It’s not Zane’s fault that Lila is a psychotic bitch. It’s not his fault she somehow found Kate at an L.A. nightclub and filmed it for her reality show. It’s definitely not his fault that I found out about it airing while I’m over five thousand miles away in London, spending the holidays buying a house for my parents so they can get away from the dangers of Hackney. It took me two years to convince them to move, I had to jump on the chance to get them out of there as soon as they agreed to it.

  A cold winter wind whips under my fleece, causing a shiver to wrack my body. The large back garden is laid out beautifully, with a stonework courtyard, bushes that are probably gorgeous in spring when they’re blooming, and of course, a pretentious little koi pond complete with working waterfall.

  “Get me a meeting with Rachel as soon as I’m back in town.”

  “You got it.”

  “Make sure one of the solicitors I have on retainer is there as well.”

  “Solicitor?”

  “Lawyer, whatever you call it,” I snap, taking out my irritation on my assistant.

  “No problem. Did you want Mr. Evans present for the meeting?” Zach asks, continuing as if nothing happened. I like that about him. He doesn’t take my mood personally.

  “No. Not Ross. Get it set up and text me the time and date.”

  I hang up the call and tilt my head back to look at the grey English sky. Never in my life did I think I’d miss the chilly, rainy weather of London or any winter season for that matter, but after spending years in the constant L.A. sunshine, I find that I do.

  I put together a plan in my head to take down Lila and her crazy train. She’s fucked with me for years, but fucking with Kate? She’ll regret she ever met me.

  Smiling, I go back inside the posh country home, joining my parents and their estate agent as they take the tour. I nod when the different amenities are pointed out, but I’m not listening. I’m figuring out exactly how I’m going to ruin Lila and her quest to be the next Kim Kardashian.

  By the time I get done with her, Lila Griffin is going to wish she never heard of Dax Davies. Now, to let off some of this anger.

  I pick up the phone, and dial Shaun.

  “Oi! Little brother, how’s it been?”

  Shaun crosses the empty expanse of the huge warehouse that houses our family business.

  “Fuck me! Are you bloody smiling?” My brother Shaun has smiled approximately four times since we were kids. It’s a rare occurrence to say the least.

  He doesn’t even argue with me. He walks over, grabs my shoulders, and pulls me into a hug. Once he releases me, he smacks my arm gently. “Loosen up, Dax. You’re wound tighter than a spring.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m under a lot of stress. So sue me.”

  Shaun holds up his hands. “Oi! Don’t take it out on me unless you want to do it in there.” He nods towards the cage that sits in the center of the room.

  It’s been a while since I’ve had a good brawl. It would make me feel better.

  “Only if we wear padded gloves. I can’t break my hands. We’re recording when I get back to the States.”

  Shaun grins. “Still a pussy I see.”

  “Leave your brother alone, Shaun!”

  I spin to see who has the guts to yell at Shaun and live to tell about it. A tiny girl with long, black hair bounces over to Shaun’s side. He wraps her up in his arms and drops a sweet kiss on her head.

  “What? Have I landed in another dimension? Are you having a laugh?”

  Shaun? With a girl? One girl?

  The two of them smile, my brother looking down at her like she hung the bloody moon. She’s no better. Gazing up at Shaun as if he’s some kind of prize.

  As I stare at the girl, I realize she’s familiar. “I know you.”

  Her face reddens and her eyes drop to the floor. Shaun steps forward, subtly pushing her behind his body.

  “Leave it be,” he warns, his tone indicating that it isn’t up for discussion.

  Ah. There it is. This is the Shaun I know.

  “Alright then. I’m Dax.” I wave at the girl who seems to have recovered her composure.

  “Tasha, nice to see you,” she says in a lovely voice.

  I frown. I know that I’ve met her before. If I could only remember.

  Shaun takes her hand, turning her away from me. “Tash, we’re going in the cage. Can you grab Dax some gear and lay it out in the changing room, love?”

  Tasha nods and hurries off.

  I stare at my brother open-mouthed.

  “What?” he asks. “It’s not that odd.”

  “Uh, yeah it is, mate. You, in love. It’s…” I struggle for the right words. “It’s bloody mind blowing.”

  “Fuck off. Get dressed and get your arse in the cage, rock star. I’m gonna beat you silly.”

  I laugh. “Just like old times then.”

  Only it’s not the same. Everything in Hackney is different. Mum, dad, Shaun, me. It’s my home, only it’s not. As I’m getting changed into my gear I realize what the problem is. It’s Kate. She’s not here. That’s why it doesn’t feel right. Without her, Hackney holds no fond memories for me. Nothing here will ever feel right again.

  “C’mon ya nancy! Let’s see what ya can do!” My dad’s loud bellow shakes me from my moping.

  Great. It really will be like old times. I’ll get my ass beaten, dad will tell me how much I suck, and I can go back to being alone and miserable.

  Sounds about right.

  Kate

  “Great work, Campbell.”

  Chelsea Lewis, my new coach for the U.K. Olympic team, high fives me after I make seven out of ten of my practice free kicks.

  “Brecken!” Coach yells out at our keeper, “you need to work on your left. Campbell figured your weakness in two kicks.”

  The redheaded keeper from Scotland waves in agreement. “Aye, Coach. I’ll dae better next time.”

  I head inside of the training facility in Manchester, where our team is based.

  “Ready for tomorrow?” I ask Colleen, a peppy blonde girl from Ireland.

  “Oi’m excited we’re startin’ the matches,” she chuckles, slamming her locker door shut.

  I smile. Sometimes I think I need a translator for all of the different dialects we have on the team. We’re all speaking English, but it doesn’t always feel that way.

  “New Zealand’s a long way away. I hope there’s a good in flight movie,” I joke.

  Colleen laughs out loud. “Dare better be. Oi git bored easily.”

  Grinning back, I join her, laughing until my cheeks hurt. Finally, I belong somewhere. Here, with these women, I’m welcomed with open arms. We all have the same love of the game, having dedicated most of our lives to excelling at it. Now we have the chance to show the world that we aren’t a bunch of mannish munters.

  The competition is fierce, but it feels unbelievable, like I’m alive and doing something incredible—for myself and for my country. Unfortunately, Logan disagreed. I think back to the conversation we had before I left.

  “You should be free to see other people while I’m gone, Logan. It wouldn’t be fair to expect you to wait for me.”

  Logan’s steel-grey eyes pin me in place, the emotions in them indiscernible. “I thought you wanted me to go with you.” Still, his eyes reveal nothing, not hurt, not anger, not anything.

  “You can’t just quit your job and follow me around the world. It’s not right and it’s not going to happen, Logan.”

  He frowns, those usually loving eyes turning hard. “What do you mean it’s not going to happen? You don’t want me to come with you? Is that it?”

  Logan’s tone is getting harsher and louder. A few people in the restaurant have glanced over at us. I should have done this in private, but I didn’t want to be stuck having a four-hour weepy goodbye with tears and begging and whatever.

  “Logan,” I hiss under my breath, “calm
down. For the first time in my life, I’m doing something for me. To make myself happy. I can’t worry about your happiness as well. That sounds selfish, but it’s true. I need to do this alone.”

  “Selfish?” He shouts. “It’s not just selfish. You think you’re better than me, is that it?”

  “Shhhhh, please. You’re making a scene.” Now other patrons have turned their entire bodies in our direction to watch the show—and lucky me, I’m the star.

  “Making a scene? You know what, Kate… I’ve been waiting patiently for you to get over yourself and this narcissistic streak you have. Go. Go to the Olympics and worship yourself in the mirror everyday since you love yourself so much.” He stands up, his cheeks red and his eyes glassy. He tosses a few bills down on the table. “I’m out of here.”

  Choking back tears, I focus on breathing in and out steadily. He’s wrong. So wrong. I’m not doing this because I love myself. I’m doing it because I need a reason not to hate myself.

  I’ve got to prove to myself that I was good enough for Dax Davies and still am. That I’m not a nobody from Hackney who hasn’t done a single useful thing with her life.

  My mobile rings from somewhere in the hotel room, the sounds of Katy Perry belting out a line about California Gurls pulling me from a deep slumber.

  After faltering for a moment, I find the offending device in my luggage.

  “’Lo?” My voice is thick with sleep.

  “Have you seen the news?”

  “Abby?”

  “Kate,” she huffs impatiently, “have you seen it yet?”

  “Seen what?” I yawn, climbing back into bed and burrowing under the duvet. January in Sweden isn’t cold, it’s downright arctic.

  “Oh my god, you haven’t!”

  “Abby, it’s three in the morning,” I complain. “I’ve got a game tomorrow… sorry, today, and need to be rested.”

  “It can’t wait, so get up and turn your computer on,” she demands.

  Grumbling, I toss back the covers and shiver violently. “I hate you right now. It’s below freezing out and you’ve got me walking around my room nearly starkers, hunting for my laptop.”

  “Put on a sweater and suck it up,” she laughs. “You’ll thank me when you see what I’m talking about.”

  “Fine.” I open my laptop and boot up the computer. “What do I do?” I ask once my search engine is open.

  “Go to E! Online.”

  “Abby…” I warn, not liking where this conversation is headed.

  “Trust me. Would I want to psychologically scar you?”

  Of course she wouldn’t, she’s getting her doctorate in psychology so she can be a counselor. “No, you wouldn’t.” I type in the web address. When the front page comes up, I gasp.

  “Told you. Enjoy it, Kate. You deserve to savor every single word. Love you!” She hangs up before I can respond.

  Another full body shudder has me convulsing from the cold. I scoop up the laptop and climb into bed with it.

  I skim the article, my mouth gaping in disbelief. I have to read it two more times before it sinks in.

  Dax Davies Speaks Out

  Notoriously tight-lipped guitarist for the multi-platinum Sphere or Irony, released a statement today via his public relations manager. In it, he accuses socialite Lila Griffin, of using her father’s position as producer for the band’s first three albums as a reason to In it, he alleges that she manipulated events, photographs, and film clips from her television show in order to portray them as a couple, when that has never been the case.

  The statement from Rachel Whatley at Accessible P.R. read as follows.

  Over the course of the last four years, Ms. Lila Griffin has subjected Mr. Davies to unwelcome advances, telling people that they were a couple and following him to various places including on tour, at recording sessions, and at public events.

  In spite of being asked multiple times to cease her behavior, Ms. Griffin continued to harass Mr. Davies. Her father, Sebastian Griffin, the producer of Mr. Davies’ last three albums, used his position of power to force my client to tolerate the actions of Ms. Griffin unless he wanted to face severe financial consequences including the termination of Sphere of Irony’s contract with Underground Records.

  Mr. Davies wants his fans and the public to know that despite what they see on Ms. Griffin’s television show, they are not, nor ever were together romantically. It has taken until now for Mr. Davies to speak publically because with the completion of their latest album, the band has fulfilled their contract with Underground Records and are not resigning with the label.

  Mr. Davies’ legal team will be filing lawsuits in Los Angeles county superior court against Ms. Lila Griffin, Mr. Sebastian Griffin, and Underground Records for fraudulent misrepresentation, negligent misrepresentation, and coercion under threat of the loss of Mr. Davies’ record contract. Their actions in falsely portraying a relationship between Mr. Davies and Ms. Griffin has caused Mr. Davies and his friends and family to suffer duress.

  Mr. Davies hopes that this statement clears up any confusion or misunderstandings anyone may have as to the nature of his relationship with Ms. Griffin. He apologizes to anyone who may have been hurt by the rumors perpetuated by Ms. Griffin. Any further questions can be directed to my office at [email protected]. Thank you.

  I swallow past the lump that has formed high up in my throat. All of it was fake. Dax was never with Lila. In fact, he’s suing her and her father for falsifying it all and forcing him to go along with it.

  While my heart is soaring from this knowledge, it brings up more questions. One old question, actually.

  If he wasn’t with Lila, why did Dax break up with me?

  I close the laptop and sink under the covers. Everything I thought was true turned out to be a lie. Dax didn’t shag my horrid, disgusting flatmate. He didn’t dump me because he was screwing her on the side and preferred her to me. My mind is racing with all of the thoughts and questions I have and will probably never get answered.

  The only thing I know for sure is that I won’t be getting any more sleep tonight.

  Dax

  “Shit,” I mutter to myself as I check the bedroom of my hotel suite for a fourth time.

  Nope. My book still isn’t there. I need my fucking composition book. Every single song I’ve written in the past six months is in there and it up and disappeared on me.

  I have my mobile in my hand to ring up Adam when I remember that he’s been in fucking rehab for the last month.

  “Bastard!”

  Right, think Davies. Where were you the last time you wrote? Obviously not at Adam’s since he’s been in some posh resort where celebrities go to dry out.

  Got it!

  My finger swipes over the tiny screen until I bring up the correct contact. I push send and wait on edge while the phone connects. Feeling a little wobbly, I drop onto the bed as it rings.

  “Dax! You calling about Lila? Crazy bitch.”

  My grip on the phone tightens. “No , Hawke . I don’t want to discuss that psychotic nutter.”

  Soon after the lawsuit was filed, Lila went officially mental. She was arrested after getting into an altercation in a popular L.A. club and refused to leave the premises. The police found several illegal and prescription drugs on her and in her car.

  Of course, having a powerful dad, she was released within the hour. Last I heard, she was in mandatory rehab to stay out of jail. Being on loads of drugs would certainly explain a lot of her behavior, but I honestly think she was just obsessed with me. Plain and simple.

  “Okay, okay. We don’t have to talk about her.” He chuckles What’s up?”

  “Hawke, you haven’t seen my notebook have you? I might have left it at your place last week—”

  “Hold on. Let me go down to the studio.” Muffled sounds of the phone being carried crackle in my ear. Hawke’s house has a soundproof room in the basement that we use when we’re messing around trying to get our songs right. We�
�ve only gotten together the one time since Adam’s been gone. It’s pretty useless without your lead singer and main songwriter.

  “Is it that black and grey book you always have with you? The one with the guitar on front?” he asks, knowing damn well that’s the one. “Because it’s here.”

  “Yeah. Thank god. I was going mental thinking I had lost it. A few of Adam’s lyrics are in there. We wouldn’t want anyone to get their hands on it.”

  My frantic pulse begins to slow. I wipe my sweaty palms off on my jeans. Hawke doesn’t need to know that there’s a song in there that I wrote about Kate. About us actually. Our journey. Needless to say, it’s not a very uplifting song.

  “Can’t have that. Wouldn’t want some other band winning a Grammy for our work,” he says in an amused tone.

  “No.”

  “So,” Hawke says, “We’re all going to the Olympics. Wild, isn’t it?”

  I sit up straight at this piece of news.

  “What? What are you talking about?” I practically shout.

  “Holy… relax man. We all got the same email, or at least Zane did. I thought he would have told you about it.”

  My hand grips the phone so tight that my knuckles begin to ache. “When did you get it?”

  “Yesterday.”

  “Well fuck, Hawke. No I haven’t heard about it yet. Hell, it’s only been twelve hours. Zane doesn’t usually start work until noon and it’s only just eleven.”

  “Oh, okay. See? He was going to tell you.” Hawke doesn’t elaborate which in turn, begins to make me aggravated.

  “Why don’t you tell me what it said, Hawke?” I roll my eyes glad he can’t see me. I swear, sometimes I wonder what goes on in that tattooed brain of his.

  “Sure. So, because the Olympics are in London this year, and I guess because you and Adam are such big stars…” I laugh at the exaggerated way he says stars. “The committee invited us to perform for some big event. I can’t remember exactly what or where we’re playing. Sorry.”

 

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