by James, Vicki
My things were thrown back into my bag while standing in her bedroom, but I left my grey T-shirt on her pillow before I walked out.
Hoping it would taint her sheets.
Her life. Her heart. Her obviously broken soul.
If she thought I was going to let her forget me and what we’d shared, she had another thing coming. That wasn’t who I was. I didn’t know how to be the good guy. I was only good at being bad.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The black Range Rover pulled up outside the pub about three hours later.
I threw my shit in the back seat and then hopped in the front, staring straight ahead as I tried to control the anger flowing through me.
“Damn, you look like shit,” Dex said as he took me in.
“Awe, Uncle Dex. I’ve missed your pretty arse, too,” I said, slurring a little. My tongue felt fat and clunky. “Thanks for coming to pick me up.”
That’s right. In my anger, I’d gone to the nearest pub I could find, and I’d thrown my credit card at the landlord, telling him to charge whatever the fuck he wanted to it in exchange for getting me off-my-tits high. Then, I’d called Dex to come and save me.
Uncle Dex, as he was affectionately known to the rest of Youth Gone Wild, was Presley’s Uncle, and he was also a rich man who had nothing better to do than chase around after us idiots. After the premature death of Presley’s father, Dex had taken it upon himself to make sure that his nephew and anything attached to him were safe, and that included the band. He was a good-looking motherfucker. Probably middle-aged.
I was being rescued by a guy I barely knew.
“First question,” Dex said, narrowing his eyes on me and tucking his Jackson Maine hair behind his ears. “How the hell did you get all the way out here to Mersea Island?”
With a sigh, I looked out of the windshield again. “Promise not to tell anyone?”
“I don’t need to make that promise.”
“That’s right. This Range Rover is a confession booth.” I smirked, a hiccup bubbling up from my stomach. “I came here with Julia.”
“The band’s Julia?”
“Nope. She’s no longer with the band. She’s quit. She’s just Julia now. Regular, boring Julia.”
“Shit. What’s happened?”
“Well… I might have fucked her.” I rolled my eyes again. “Once or twice. You know how it goes.” I wafted a hand through the air like she was inconsequential.
“You…?”
“Yep. Fucked her good. Did the deed. Broke down the ice queen. Became the daddy. Showed her the peen,” I said, popping the p in peen—a word I wasn’t sure I’d ever used before. Still, it was better than going with baguette again. “You know what I’m saying?”
“Bloody hell,” he whispered.
“What a headline that would make, huh?” I sighed again. The weight of the world had been placed on my shoulders, and I couldn’t figure out a way to shift it. Bottomless alcohol and bad jokes were my usual go-to, but they weren’t doing shit for me right now.
The engine roared to life, and without a word, Dex drove us away from Mersea Island. The sat nav on the dashboard lit up the car, and I kept glancing at it as it directed us away from Julia. With every street we drifted farther away, my stomach sank.
Dex’s sudden vow of silence also started to piss me off after ten minutes. I could feel the tension rising as he tried to bite his tongue.
“Fuck, just say it, will you?” I growled, squeezing my eyes shut and rubbing my palm over my forehead.
“Say what, exactly?”
“That I messed up.”
“If you want me to give you my opinion, you’re going to have to tell me what happened.”
“Jesus, I can tell where Presley gets his Gandhi bullshit from.”
Dex smirked, looking exactly like his nephew before he eyed me smugly. Still, he said nothing. Without further prompting, I told him everything. About the night Julia had come to me when upset. About the thoughts I’d had about her. The time I’d spent at her home—time that seemed like a lifetime ago, not a few short hours before. I could still feel her kisses on my skin. My palm still throbbed from holding her hand all day. I could hear her moans and smell her perfume.
“And after all that, she didn’t have the guts to tell me she was quitting on us,” I finished. “I had to find out from Hawk, while staring straight into Julia’s eyes.”
Dex pressed his lips together, taking another turn before he straightened the wheel and sighed to himself.
“Is this what older women are like?” I waved my hand in the air again, seeing two of the same hand as the alcohol took control and made me lose focus. “Just a constant mindfuck? Always saying one thing, doing another.”
“She’s hardly older.”
“Maybe you’re right. Shit, Dex. Her skin. Her skin, bro. Her skin is the softest skin I’ve ever felt. It’s like a damn baby’s! Softer than any prissy model I’ve ever been with. I couldn’t stop licking it. Not just those intimate places either. I mean all of it.”
“Not sure she’d appreciate you sharing that info, mate.”
“It’s not like I told you how she tasted, come on. I mean, if I could, I would, because I feel like everyone should know.”
“You probably shouldn—”
“FYI: she’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever had on my tongue.” I leaned closer to him and pointed right at his face. “Ever. And I fucked JJ Jones. She was terrible by the way. Jones. Not my sweet as honey JuJu.”
“Your what now?” Dex chuckled.
“I know.” I groaned, letting my face fall. “A fucking pet name. I’ve never given anyone a pet name. This is the shit that’s going on with me right now. JuJu.” I curled my nose up. “Did I really just say that?”
“You sure did.”
“I think I’m broken, Dex. Like…” I stroked my chest with all ten fingertips. “I’m messed up in here. It keeps aching. Pinching together and twisting itself up. My heart feels higher—too high. Breaths shorter. Does that make sense? Nothing’s where it used to be anymore. Nothing works the same way.”
“No shit.”
I groaned at his smug expression. “What? What’s that look for? Why are you doing that face?”
“Nothing.” He shook his head. “It’s just… I really am enjoying watching you kids fall in love.”
“Excuse the fuck me?” My eyes widened.
“First Presley with Tess. Now you with Julia.”
“I’m not… in love with Julia.”
“Right.”
“We fucked. That was it. Once, twice, thrice. God, she was good. Sure. Yeah. Really good. Probably the best sex I’ve ever had. But I’m not in love with her. That’s… that’s… fucking stupid.”
“Okay.”
“I’m serious, man.”
“I know you are.” He tilted his head to the side and narrowed his eyes on the road ahead. “In your head, I know you believe what you’re saying. You sound just like Presley did after he spent that night with Tessa, all those years ago. He wasn’t ready to fall in love, either. I don’t think anyone ever is. Especially women. They’re so scared of getting hurt these days because of all the bragging fuckboys out there. We’re living in an era where they’re told that if they’re not constantly strong, they’re failing their gender. Being soft is frowned upon… and that’s tough for everyone to navigate. But…” he shrugged, “not even the most stubborn hearts and minds can stop themselves from feeling love when it’s planted right in front of them. Not you. Not her.”
I stared at him, willing my sarcastic personality to come to life at that very moment. I’d never needed a quick comeback more than I did right then. I’d never needed everything to kick in and deny, deny, deny with such intensity before. But do you know what happened? Nothing.
Not a fucking thing.
I just… stared. Like an absolute dumb arse.
Dex laughed and carried on like he was talking to himself. “Those women that come along and sm
ack us up the side of the head. Woo, I miss those. They’re the ones we search all our lives for. The ones you want to throttle one minute and cradle to sleep the next. That fire they give us. It’s dangerous. It’s gonna burn, but that pain… that sharp sting of their flame. You live for it. Every man is a masochist for that feeling. When we’re old, grey, settled down, and going to sleep every night, those are the women who hold our thoughts. Those are the women we think about. The could have beens. The should have beens.”
“Julia isn’t…” I stopped and frowned. “She’s…”
“You going to finish that sentence?”
“What I’m trying to say is that she’s not… I’m not…”
Dex huffed to himself again, his smile rising into his cheeks. “Didn’t think so. Tongue tied and in denial. You’ve had the night, kid. The one that changes the way you see life—the way you see yourself and everything you thought you wanted. This is going to be special if you let it be.”
My mouth had, for the first time in my life, let me down, and all I could do was scowl hard and look ahead to the dark, winding roads that led to who knew where. To the places I couldn’t see. And the only thing I could think was…
I could write an entire album about her right now without coming up for air.
“You’re back in the studio next week, right?” Dex asked, changing the subject. “The timing couldn’t be better. They say all the best records are built with bricks made of heartache.”
“Dex?”
“Yeah.”
“Fuck off.”
He laughed out loud at that, both his hands gripping the wheel tightly. “Do you want to know the good news? The good news is that you happen to be Rhett Ryan. If anyone can win a woman around, it’s you. You don’t lose, kid. You don’t quit, either. You don’t know how to. If you want her, make her realise she’ll never get better than you.”
“What if she could get better than me?”
“If you believe that, you’ve already lost.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Let me fast forward a little.
Dex dropped me off. I got home. Ma asked questions. I wasn’t in the mood to answer. She said I looked sick—she always said I looked sick—so I made my escape, promising her I wasn’t high, on a come down, and that I didn’t need fucking rehab. I left out the part about me being blind drunk and emotionally spent. I told her she needed to watch fewer movies and let go of the worry. I dropped my things in my room, took a look around the four walls and the tiny space, and as my shoulders sagged, and all the breath left my lungs, I thought to myself…
Well, shit.
Fucking shit.
I can’t do this.
I can’t stay in this house, pretending I’m the same kid in my early twenties who I was before I made it with the band.
I can’t live here anymore.
I loved my mother—stepdad, too. I was grateful for their warm arms around me on cold days and the fact that they’d raised their boy into the kind of man who hadn’t ended up in prison yet. I’d lay myself down in front of a moving truck and give up my life for either of them, but I couldn’t stay.
I was different now. I wasn’t the same Rhett who loved to just sing and play the guitar.
This village wasn’t my home. The world was. All of it. The sky was my ceiling, and the air was my walls. The stage was my bedroom. The place I found peace.
My head was swimming with all the memories of being on tour, the endless women, the laughs, the spectacular sights and sounds of standing on stage in front of fans from all over the world, and all the days I’d spent with Julia, not knowing she’d one day have me strung up and strung out this way.
JJ Jones.
Angelica Leyton.
Dominique Blake.
Hindi Butrav.
Rhonda Wills.
Reese Whittaker.
Lovely long-legged Lacey Benson.
Names I’d cosied up to. Women whose lips I’d pressed mine to, whose underwear I’d slid my fingertips beneath, whose whispered words were memories forever etched in my mind. Women I’d spent time wooing. Women I’d thought I had to conquer, only to push them out of bed before sunrise.
And in all that time, when I could have been having the best sex of my life, not once had I thought about fucking Julia Speed. What a goddamn waste.
Now there was no escape. The woman was stuffed so tightly in my chest, I couldn’t breathe without hearing the whispers of her name falling from my every exhale.
I slumped down on the edge of my bed, pulled out my phone, and I hit up the band’s group chat.
Me: Ever had sex so good, you felt like your head was going to explode more than your balls?
Presley: Yeah. Now I’m marrying the woman.
Me: **removes Pres from group chat**
Presley: Dickhead.
Big D: Got head once that was better than sex.
Coops: Once. Never since.
Hawk: Did you fuck Natalie Portman, man?
Me: Natalie Portman gave me her number last year actually, but I like my women a little morally corrupt.
Hawk: Bullshit! You could have screwed Padmé Amidala?
Me: Who the fuck is that?
Coops: He’s talking about Star Wars.
Me: Hawk. This is why you never get laid. Step away from the comics.
Hawk: They’re not comics, dipshit! Well, they are, but I’m talking about the films.
Big D: Tequila just came out of my nose. That fucking burned. I can just see Hawk jerking off to his comics at night. Special edition, no. 69.
Hawk: I get laid more than you, D, so you can shut your mouth, you big, hairy bastard.
Coops: Dicky and Julia get laid more than Big D does.
Presley: Damn. Cat claws coming out from Coops.
Coops: I have my moments.
Big D: I’m muting this chat now.
Hawk: Same.
Me: Enjoy your comics, brother.
Despite the weak smile on my face, not even the guys could bring me around from my sombre mood. The mention of Julia getting laid more than anyone made my stomach twist up, and I searched through my contacts for Dicky’s number.
“If you’re phoning me to tell me you’ve been arrested, I’ve got bigger fish to fry, and I’m not interested,” he said on answering.
“Not been arrested,” I assured him with no life in my voice.
“What’s wrong? You sound different.”
I dropped my forehead into my free hand and rubbed it with worry. “Think I might be coming down with something.”
“That happens when you stop touring. The adrenaline wears off, and—”
“We realise how shit life really is, so we go into mourning?”
“Something like that,” he huffed out a tired laugh. Tired. He sounded it, too. Hell, we were all starting to sound tired. “I take it you’ve heard about Julia.”
Just hearing her name made me swallow. The good effects of the alcohol had already worn off, and I was desperate to dig around for some coke because I was just fucking bored. “Yeah, I heard.”
“The guys seem pretty messed up over it.”
“That’s because she’s important to us.”
“I thought you’d be thrilled she’d no longer be on your case every two minutes.”
“If it isn’t her, it’ll be someone else, and no one else can do what she does, Dicky. No one.”
“She’s good.”
“Damn good.” Too good.
“Since when have you cared about Jules? You guys have always been at loggerheads for over three years. Out of everyone, I thought you’d be the least concerned.”
“How has everyone got me so fucking wrong? I tell you guys every damn day how much that band means to me. No one works harder in the studio. No one owns the crowd better. No one gives the fans more than I do. No one, and I mean no one is as committed to Youth Gone Wild as I am, so it really pisses me off when you people make out like I’m just here for the Peroni and
the pussy, okay? Fuck, I know what Julia is to this band. I know for damn sure we wouldn’t have gotten halfway to where we are now without her, so I’m allowed to be concerned about this whole fucking mess. I’m allowed to sit here with this shitty, tight feeling in my chest and wonder what the fuck each and every one of us is going to do to make things right, okay?”
My breathing was laboured as I waited for Dicky to say something, but when he didn’t, I went on.
“I want her back, Dicky.” I need her back. “And I don’t care what we have to do to make it happen.”
“You have my attention,” he drew out. “But I think getting her back on board is going to be a harder task than you, me, or any of the guys can begin to understand. This isn’t just about responsibilities, money, or any of the other bullshit stuff we can throw at her.”
“What is it about?” I dared myself to ask, a weird part of me hoping he was going to say it was about me. She was in love with me. She was as strung up on me as I was on her. I could work with that. I could work with some emotion or attachment, rather than her bullshit I don’t owe you anything, Rhett, response she’d thrown at me in her kitchen.
“She’s running out of time,” Dicky answered.
There was that word again. Time.
“For what?”
“A life of her own. Love. Dare I say… a family.”
I frowned, sitting upright and staring straight at an old poster of Green Day on my wall. I thought about her Disneyland dream and the visuals she’d sold me of her and some guy, drunk in love, smiling brightly as their child toddled towards Cinderella’s castle with mouse ears on their head.
“You’re telling me all this is because Julia wants to settle down?”
“I think she may be over chasing after you boys and telling you to keep your dicks in your trousers. I’ve sensed she’s been looking to get off the road, cosy up with a stand-up man, be responsible, and maybe, I don’t know… think about kids.”
