Playing At Love: A Rogue Series Novel

by Lara Ward Cosio

  “It wasn’t like that, Gavin. I was—“

  “Yes, I know, you’re trying to be my friend.” Gavin leaned over and held his head in his hands.

  “I’m just—“

  “Why isn’t she with you?”

  It took Conor a minute to register what Gavin was asking. Finally, he said, “It was never about that. It wasn’t, Gavin. She never once considered it a possibility. You are everything to her.”

  “I don’t believe it, is the thing.” Gavin sat up and looked at him.

  “What? You don’t believe what?”

  “That it was never considered. She loved you. That’s what kills me. Yeah, I fucked around, but she fell in love. That is what’s so hard to take.”

  “You’ll have to take my word. It’s not true.”

  With a shake of his head, Gavin said, “I guess I still know her better than you, then. You had her but let her go.”

  “I got what I deserve.”

  “And what’s that supposed to be? Colette? Is she your punishment?”

  “No. This is my punishment, Gavin. This,” Conor said as he lost his patience. “Trying to atone somehow to you day in and day out and never getting anywhere. You’ve accepted my apology but you can’t forgive me and that’s a kind of fucking purgatory.”

  “What do you want me to do? You think there’s any way I can forget it? For Christ's sake, tell me how and I will. I want nothing but to forget about the two of you.” He chose the word “forget” carefully. He wasn’t capable of offering any kind of forgiveness, even in a hypothetical situation.

  “I know you can’t forget. I know it’s not that easy but you have to understand—“

  “I do understand. I understand that you fell in love with my wife and that you wanted her for yourself. But you couldn’t quite make it happen. The best you could get was to fuck her.”

  Conor started to reply, to deny Gavin’s characterization of things but stopped and opted for the truth instead. “That’s about right,” he said at length.

  “Go fuck yourself,” Gavin said fiercely and stood up.

  “Jesus, I know you’ve got every right to be angry. But will we ever get past it?”

  “You know what I want to know?” he asked. “In the effort to get past it?”

  “What?” Conor winced in anticipation.

  “When exactly was it you decided to fucking throw away twenty-odd years of our friendship?”

  “It’s not thrown away.”

  “The second you decided to go after Sophie, it bleeding well was. You had to have known you were fucking me over.”

  “Gavin, I wasn’t thinking like that. I . . . I didn’t allow myself to think of how it affected you.”

  “You’ve always been a selfish bastard. Everything’s always been so fucking easy for you—in school and with girls and with the perfect fucking family growing up. And yet you still grab for more. You’re a greedy cunt.”

  “Yes, you’re absolutely right,” Conor said flatly. “Now, mind telling me exactly how much more shite I have to take before we move on?”

  Gavin closed the short distance between himself and Conor and pushed him hard in the chest. “You want to move on? Then let’s. Let’s say we’re fucking done with this. I don’t need you. I’m writing songs while you’re doing fuck all in London.”

  Shay heard this last exchange as he opened the door, his eyes widening at the confrontation and its implications.

  “No, we’re not done,” Conor said, ignoring Gavin’s assertion that he could make music on his own. “I am not letting you fuck this up.”

  “Me? I’m the one that’s to blame, then?”

  “You will be if you leave the band. But I am not going to be your fucking whipping boy forever.”

  “Oh, it’s been forever has it?”

  Conor shook his head with frustration. “Listen, I fucked up and I’m sorry, but I am not going to let you torture me without end.”

  “You have no idea what torture is, you bastard. You have no idea,” Gavin said.

  Martin joined Shay then and they watched the scene unfold together.

  “This isn’t going to end well,” Martin murmured.

  “It’s been months in the making,” Shay replied.

  “More like years of all that homo-erotic tension.”

  “Not now, Marty.”

  Martin had always teased Gavin and Conor about the closeness of their friendship, calling it barely restrained gay impulses.

  “I know this is fucked up, but let’s figure out how we get past it,” Conor told Gavin.

  “Get past it,” Gavin mocked him with disgust.

  And then he swung his fist hard at Conor.

  ~

  Conor had known it was going to come to this the moment Gavin stood up. In truth, he had known it was bound to happen the day they first talked about all of this at Gavin’s house almost three months back. The last time he had talked to Sophie was when she had called him in tears to let him know she had told Gavin about them. Conor had expected Gavin to show up at his house, but that visit never happened so Conor forced the confrontation himself. When Gavin had responded in such a calm and resigned way, Conor knew that he had a whole reserve of anger buried beneath the surface that would one day explode.

  Conor was able to deflect the full force of the blow but the second hit landed squarely on his jaw and knocked him against the wall.

  Gavin raised his fist again but Conor lowered his shoulder and pushed hard against his friend, sending him back several feet. He didn’t want to fight but neither was he going to take a beating.

  But Gavin had rage on his side and regained his balance quickly. He delivered a well-placed punch to Conor’s kidney that doubled him over and immediately followed this by sweeping his foot against the back of his legs while pushing his shoulders, sending him to the floor. Gavin pounced on him, straddling him as he punched him in the face again and again.

  “All right, that’s enough,” Martin said as he started toward the two men.

  In the next second, Martin wrapped his arms around Gavin’s waist and heaved him up, pulling him to the other side of the room.

  “Let me go!” Gavin said, fighting against Martin.

  “So, what? So you can beat the shit out of him? Not gonna happen,” Martin said, using all his strength to keep Gavin at bay.

  “How’s that pretty face feel now, you bastard?” Gavin gave Conor a taunting smile.

  Conor’s eye was starting to swell and he spat blood into a tissue, but he returned Gavin’s gaze without wavering. Gavin had called him selfish and he was probably right. But what had struck him was that it had been Gavin’s selfish need to be the center of all things that had thwarted the legitimate chances he had had with Sophie before she and Gavin had ever started going out. Conor had been the one to offer Sophie a warm welcome on her first day of school. She had been receptive to his banter, flirting back even. But Gavin had purposefully broken into their conversation when Conor suggested he play tour guide to show her the city. Conor had known the minute it happened that Gavin was trying to lay claim on her, despite the fact that he had a girlfriend at the time. A week later, when they were all at a club, Conor ended up on the dance floor with Sophie. They had been buzzed off of the beers Gavin somehow managed to charm from the bartender. Sophie was swaying her body in time to the rhythmic techno and even had leaned into him when he put his arm around her. He knew that she would have kissed him back if he had had gotten up his nerve sooner. But Gavin had thrown his arm around his neck before he had a chance to seal the deal, pulling him away with some nonsense excuse about trying to make a request of the DJ.

  It’s always been about you, he wanted to say. But he kept quiet, knowing that the ways in which they envied each other were deeply engrained and a part of what both attracted and repelled them from each other. Gavin would always think Conor had everything come easily to him, and Conor would always think Gavin got what he wanted.

  Without recourse to g
o after Conor physically, Gavin went slack. Martin let him go. They all watched as he first leaned against the wall, then slid down it. Gavin’s eyes were glassy, unfocused for a moment before his face crumbled. He bowed his head and wrapped his face in his hands.

  At length, Conor went to him and crouched down. “I’m sorry, Declan,” he told him quietly, purposely using his middle name for the significance it had always had between the two of them. They had discovered the music of Elvis Costello together as kids and delighted to find out the artist’s real name—Declan MacManus—was so similar to Gavin’s. “I’ll always be sorry for hurting you. I want you to be happy. I want you to be with her.” Then he squeezed Gavin’s shoulder, stood up and waited.

  ~

  Gavin breathed in deeply, trying to calm his racing heart as Conor’s words reverberated through his head. The anger and fury he had kept bottled for months now had come out but what did that release gain him? Nothing was resolved. It never could be in their situation.

  A full ninety seconds later, he felt something settle over his entire being. It came to him that it was time to make a decision over his future. He realized he could have control of whether he was miserable by continuing to reject Conor and Sophie or he could consciously decide to accept what he could get from them. It was the only way to move forward.

  When he looked up, he saw that Conor had his hand outstretched to him. He nodded and took the offering.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Over the course of the next two weeks, Gavin and Conor established a new baseline of friendship. They never mentioned Sophie, and Gavin never apologized for hitting Conor. But they did talk constantly. They spent more time together than they had in years.

  Each day started with Conor meeting Gavin at his house. They would run down the hill and along the waterfront for three or four miles before returning to Gavin’s home gym for some weight lifting. After cleaning up and grabbing a quick breakfast, they met Martin and Shay back at Conor’s.

  Inspiration had been unleashed and they gratefully fell into the zone, gelling together as well as they ever had. Gavin slept little as the process took on a life of its own and he didn’t want to get in its way. He wrote two dozen songs, crafting melodies with an intensity that had been built up over the last couple unproductive years.

  At the end of each session with the band, Gavin either stayed on at Conor’s for drinks or the two of them would visit an obscure pub on the outskirts of the city. They would drink, play darts or snooker, and talk music, sport, politics, and whatever else came to mind. They also sought out live bands, and further stoked the newfound inspiration they were nurturing. They rapidly made progress on what would be their fifth studio album, though it was to be the first album by Rogue where Gavin had almost complete control.

  ~

  With the band’s writing sessions going so well, James booked studio time for the recording of Rogue’s next album to occur in a week’s time. He also notified the label that they would have the fully completed album in four months, a turnaround time that the band didn’t appreciate. But James knew the boys and if they didn’t have a hard deadline they would end up tinkering away at the material forever.

  James also orchestrated a live show to help the band dust off the cobwebs properly before they went into studio. The venue was called The Basement, and it happened to be the location of the first gig Rogue had ever played. The nostalgic show was planned as a surprise, with the announcement being made over Twitter and Facebook two hours prior to the nine o'clock start time.

  Dublin was a small city, and Rogue had fans who had been hungering for new material from the band for several years so something as trivial as late notice wouldn’t keep them from showing up. In fact, far too many people started queuing mere minutes after the tweet and status update went out.

  This had been the expectation. James prepared for it by arranging with their tech support to mount speakers and several large monitors outside of the club for the overflow crowd.

  By the time Gavin arrived by a private car service, there were police barricades set up along both sides of the street outside of The Basement. He got out of the car and the hundreds of fans erupted into screams and applause.

  This reception lit Gavin up from within and he felt himself walking taller as he worked the lines, shaking hands, signing autographs, and touching as many people as he could before ducking inside. This, he thought, as the excited cheers from outside grew muffled, this is what I live for.

  ~

  The intimacy of the venue had given Gavin pause when James suggested it. It would be a challenge to face Rogue’s fans for the first time in such a long while in a setting where he had nowhere to hide. He couldn’t get lost in the carefully orchestrated light show that went along with their usual big stage performances or stalk restlessly from one side to the other, engaging the various sections of the crowd.

  The smallness of the stage also made Gavin acutely aware of how the time had passed. Whereas as a teenager he had struggled to command the space and the audience, now he felt constricted. They had become accustomed to playing huge outdoor venues, including the massive summer festivals for tens of thousands of fans. By contrast, this club held two hundred people—and that was with all furniture except the built-in booths along the walls removed.

  The band had always risen to the occasion and performed well under pressure, so it didn’t take long to get into a groove. They had a muscular stage presence and an all-encompassing sound. Tonight it was reverberating against the walls of the small venue.

  Gavin was so lost in the music that it took him several songs to realize that any lingering tension between himself and Conor had melted away. They naturally fed off each other’s energy, showcasing the creative partnership that had been the driving force of the band for all these years. This arena was immune to the problems they had faced, as the performance brought them back to the uncomplicated time of their pre-teen years when they fell in love with music together.

  The interplay between Gavin and the audience was key as well, for he felt their unwavering support for him despite everything. He sang his heart out, and the crowd responded in kind.

  At one point, he lowered the microphone and simply listened as the crowd sang every word of their song “Day’s Done,” a placid smile on his sweat-drenched face. He looked over at Conor and they silently shared in the satisfaction of the moment.

  The show was particularly poignant for Gavin as it rekindled the connection with music he had neglected for too long. The instant high he got from being on stage was more intense than any hit of cocaine he had ever done, and he realized how close he had come to losing everything. The joy he got out of performing was so intense that he didn’t want it to end. He urged the guys to keep playing until they ended up with a marathon Bruce Springsteen-esque show of almost three hours. The length of the show meant that word could spread and draw out far more people than the glorified bar could handle. The police and fire brigade arrived to handle the capacity overload. But they ended up watching the show and keeping an eye out to make sure no one was harmed rather than forcing the crowd to disperse.

  As they wound down, a repeated shout could be heard over the crowd begging to hear a live version of “The Sweetest Would Be.”

  Gavin had no choice but to acknowledge the request after the rest of the crowd rallied behind the idea with their clapping, shouts, and cheers.

  “Em, don’t think I know that one,” he said and the crowd not unkindly jeered him. “Wasn’t that some busker hoping to be discovered?”

  That got the crowd laughing and clapping. But Gavin did not want to perform such a raw song in so small of a venue. The crowd was practically on stage with him. He couldn’t imagine being able to get through the heartache of it. He instinctively looked to Conor and was relieved when his friend could plainly read him.

  Conor gave the slightest nod and then began playing the distinctive riff of one of the hits from their third album, “Down on Your Luck�
�� to the mixed reaction of the crowd. Before he got to the second refrain, Martin and Shay had picked up the beat and the whole audience was won over, singing along word for word once again.

  “I want you all to be on the next album as backup singers,” Gavin told the crowd as the band prepared for their last song of the night. They roared appreciatively in response. He gazed out at the audience for a moment, feeling inexplicably light given the sweaty heaviness in the overcrowded room. “Thanks for coming out. Thanks for sticking with me.”

  ~

  Afterward, the band and their guests convened for drinks in a corner booth that was enlarged by several tables and chairs pushed up to it. Gavin regaled the group with his usual animated storytelling, exuding the kind of enthusiasm and infectious charm he had long been known for. He was so dominating that Conor didn’t get much chance to say hello to Felicity.

  He had invited her to the show thinking it would be a good way to give her a break from caring for her mother and to introduce her into their crowd of friends. But there was so much excitement from everyone there that it left little time for them to speak. He had introduced her to Colette, who was in Dublin for a few days, but other than initial pleasantries, the two didn’t have much to say to one another. Conor stubbornly made an effort to get them into more conversation.

  “Fee was there when it all started with Rogue,” he explained.

  “Ah, I see,” Colette said, and she scanned the club.

  He knew she was looking for Jessica, Shay’s girlfriend, as she had recently bonded with her now that Sophie was neither among them nor a friend.

  “Aye, it’s true,” Felicity said. “Maybe you’d be interested to see some of the old photos I have from those days, Colette.”

  “I don’t think so,” Conor said quickly.

  “What are you afraid of, Con?” Felicity asked with a wink.

  “Best let me see them before you go spreading them about.”

  Colette glanced at her fiancé with curiosity then. “I bet you were as gorgeous then as you are now. Was he, Felicity?”