by Amiee Louise
“I know mum, I...love Sam, so much, but it’s different now. How does the saying go? If you love someone enough, you have to let them go.”
My mum scoffs.
“That’s utter bullshit, Peyton, and you know it! Any daughter of mine would know that if he means that much to you, you’d bloody well fight for him.”
I try to stifle my laugh at my mums’ blunt and to-the-point tirade. God bless her. Talking with her is just what I needed, to set things into perspective.
“I’m not saying jump into a relationship with him again. Just…get to know him again, let him spend time with his son. Last time, it was such a whirlwind; I don’t think either of you knew what you were getting into. The next thing I knew you were engaged and pregnant, slow things down. If you love each other, it’ll work itself out, darling, I promise you. Listen to your old mum; I know I blabber on, but it’s just because I love you, and I worry about you.”
I press my lips together and swallow back the lump that has formed in my throat. God, I’ve missed her and my dad so fucking much. No parent should think that they’ve outlived their child. That thought breaks my heart.
“Mum,” I sob.
“Hey, enough with the tears, darling. I know, come home, Peyton. Spend some time with me and your dad. London isn’t going anywhere. Think about it, and you make sure you look after that brother of yours,” she says, and it is as if she just gets it.
Since I gave birth to Freddie, I finally understand the phrase ‘a mother’s instinct’. My mum isn’t just my mum, she’s my best friend too. There’s nothing stronger than the bond between a parent and a child. A knock on the door pulls me from my thoughts.
“Sis, Danny and Ruby are here.”
Dexter pokes his head briefly around the door. I sit up and wipe the tears away from my eyes.
“Thanks, Dex,” I call out.
“Look mum, I have to go. I’m going shopping with Ruby and Danny. I’ll definitely think about coming home for a while, thank you for talking sense into me. I love you.”
I hear her sniff. I hate it when my mum cries.
“Ok, darling girl. If it’s meant to be, it’ll work itself out, I promise you. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do! Call soon, love you, Peyton, bye.”
I hang up the phone with renewed hope that maybe things will work themselves out after all.
***
After an afternoon of shopping with Ruby and Danny, my feet are sore, but I have an outfit for my date with Jack Scott. Dexter insisted on babysitting Freddie, so I enjoyed spending the afternoon with my two best friends, despite being tailed by Kai. He kept the press at bay, and we shopped in relative peace. I have showered, styled my hair, and applied my makeup. I am standing in my bedroom wearing a loose, oversized, long sleeved, grey jumper and grey socks pulled up to my knees. All of my clothes are spread out across the bed and I am debating whether the outfit I bought for tonight sends the right message.
“It looks like someone raided an Oxfam shop in here!”
Dexter laughs, and I spin around, narrowing my eyes at him.
“Funny.”
He leans against the door frame.
“I thought so. I’m Dexter Harper, and I’m here all week.”
He winks cheekily and bows dramatically. I roll my eyes and try to hide my amusement. Dexter is naturally funny and always used to cheer me up when I was sad when we were younger. He was always the one to get up and entertain at family parties. If he wasn’t a policeman, he would have been an entertainer of some sort. Like Sam, he was born to perform, but somehow, he didn’t pursue it further.
“You're so funny you should be on the stage. Sweeping it!” I say wryly.
He throws his head back and laughs. I start to chew furiously on my nails, suddenly feeling nervous about my pending date with Jack.
“Jesus sis, you look as if you're about to shit a kitten! It's just a date, he's not proposing marriage!”
Dexter smiles, and I look at him.
“What if he realises I'm too fucked up and not worth the effort, Dex?”
Dexter moves forward and pulls me close to him, enveloping me in his arms.
“There's that fucking self-doubt creeping in again. You're beautiful, you're funny, intelligent, and I'm not just saying that because you're my sister. Sam's a fucking idiot.”
I chuckle softly against his chest. That seems to be the general consensus on Sam these days.
“He needs to build a bridge and get the fuck over it. Surely he can see you did it for the right reasons, you did it with the best intentions.”
I sigh heavily against him, and he rests his chin on the top of my head.
“If he can’t see that, then he isn’t worth your time or your tears, sis. Just go on this date with Jack Shit, or whatever his name is. Let him wine, dine and sixty-nine you, or whatever it is you do on dates these days. See how it goes and take it from there.”
I laugh at Dexter’s dry sense of humour and pull away from his embrace.
“The leopard print and leather playsuit, you’ll knock him dead.”
He winks, leans down to kiss my forehead, and leaves the room. I pick up the leopard print and leather playsuit that Ruby begged me to buy and hold it up against myself in the mirror. My brother has extremely good taste in women’s fashion. He must have picked it up from being with Grace, who is a fashion designer. I pull it on, and Dexter was right, it looks amazing on me. The shorts accentuate my short-tattooed legs and make them look longer. The low cut of the neck makes my boobs look fantastic, and the waist cinches in to make my slim figure look curvy. I team it with some silver bangles, silver hoop earrings, and a long, silver, skull necklace. I look in the mirror and I have to admit, I look good. I pull on a pair of leopard and skull print Iron Fist heels and fluff my hair in the mirror. I slick on some red lip gloss, smack my lips together, and I’m good to go. I grab my skull clutch bag with my phone, keys, and purse. As I go into the living room, Dexter wolf whistles.
“What have you done with my sister? You look foxy!”
We both laugh.
“Thanks, Dex. You have extremely good taste in women’s clothing. Ever thought of a career change?”
He cocks his eyebrow.
“I think I’ll stick to my day job, thanks, sis.”
I pick Freddie up and kiss him gently on his head.
“Mummy loves you, sexy boy. Yes she does,” I coo and turn to Dexter.
“He can’t sleep without Keith, his penguin. His bottles are made up, they just need warming. And if he wakes up and won’t settle, call me immediately and I’ll come straight home.”
He takes Freddie from me and gives me a one-handed salute.
“How hard can it be looking after a baby? I’ve got this, sis. Go and enjoy yourself, you deserve it; let your hair down.”
Kai steps out of his room, looking like he could literally model for Armani. The cut of his black suit is tailored to the height and shape of his body perfectly. He nods coolly, and I can’t believe that I have to take a security guard on a date. Is this what my life has become? The door knocks, as if on cue, and I take a deep breath.
“Wish me luck.”
Dexter kisses my cheek, and I stroke Freddie’s face.
“Good luck, sis. Even though you definitely don’t need it.”
Dexter smiles, and I swing the door open. Standing outside my door is Jack Scott, in all his glory. He is wearing dark jeans, a black blazer, a black and white checked shirt, and black shoes. The first two buttons are undone to reveal his tanned and tattooed chest. He isn’t wearing his glasses, is clean shaven, and he looks delicious. His silver-grey eyes widen as he takes me in. He swallows, and his throat visibly bobs.
“Fuck me, petal. You...you look amazing,” he compliments me, and I smile shyly.
“You don’t look so bad yourself, Mr. Scott.”
He straightens to his full height and offers me his arm, grinning widely.
“May I?”
I nod at his g
entlemanly gesture and take his arm, stepping out of my flat and closing the door behind me. We walk down the corridor, and Kai is at least ten yards behind us.
“Is Andre the Giant really necessary? Three is definitely a crowd. This is meant to be a date, not an interrogation.”
He says it as a joke, but I can’t help thinking that he is serious. I drop my gaze to the floor.
“The press seem to follow me around a lot lately; it’s...just a precaution,” I try to explain as Danny breezes past us, cocking his perfectly groomed eyebrow and winking.
I think Jack just got the Danny Debonair seal of approval.
I smirk, and I catch him checking out Jack’s bum as we reach the lift. Jack pushes the call button and we wait in silence for a few seconds. The lift pings and the door slide smoothly open. We step inside, and Jack crowds in behind me, pressing the button for the ground floor. The doors slide closed as Kai reaches the lift, and I swear I hear him curse as Jack backs me into the wall.
“Fuck me, you look stunning. I need to control myself around you. You could be bad for my health and my sanity.”
I laugh, and he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. I suddenly feel nervous and so out of my depth with this intimidating man who exudes everything masculine. He tips my chin up.
“Look at me, I’m trying for you.”
His silver-grey eyes are blazing with sincerity and something which resembles lust.
“I can’t get the image of you underneath me out of my head, it’s all I’ve thought about. I’m hoping if I play my cards right, I can have a repeat performance.”
His voice is rich and cultured, with the hint of an accent, which I didn’t notice when I first met him. I can’t quite place the whereabouts.
“You’re simply…exquisite, I’m looking forward to getting to know you better,” he compliments, and I smile.
Jack Scott can be charming, maybe I judged him a little too harshly. I decide there and then that I am going to give him a chance. We’re both adults, what harm can it do?
We arrive at a small and intimate fusion restaurant, called Paradox, in the heart of Mayfair. As we exit the car, I see Kai leaning against his 4x4. He cocks an eyebrow and touches his hand to his chest; he looks as if he is speaking to someone.
How the fuck did he know where we were heading?
Jack and I both step inside, with his hand at the small of my back. I suddenly feel way out of my depth and definitely underdressed. The low ceiling and white drapes give a romantic feel to the place. There are around ten tables, which are low to the ground and have jewel accented coloured cushions either side, instead of chairs. The walls are a vibrant magenta and gold, with multi-coloured lights over each table. Jack greets the hostess with familiarity, and the way he kisses her on the cheek makes me think there’s history between them. She greets us in accented English. She is very beautiful, Asian, with long black hair and has unusual pale green eyes. She is wearing a white silk blouse, black pencil skirt, and black Christian Louboutin’s.
“Jack, it’s so good to see you. Nate requested I seat you and your guest immediately, come.”
She completely ignores me and leads us to the back of the room in the corner. I sit down on the low purple cushion, and Jack sits opposite me, on the turquoise cushion.
“I will bring you a bottle of champagne; on the house, of course.”
She strides off, leaving Jack and me alone.
“This place is amazing.”
Jack smiles.
“Thanks, my brother Nate owns it. He’s also the chef. It’s his baby; I’m proud of him. Anyway, enough about my brother, tell me more about you, petal. You’re looking very beautiful tonight.”
I smile bashfully at his praise and idly tuck my hair behind my ear. I am about to speak when we are interrupted by the arrival of the hostess with a bottle of champagne. She is about to uncork it, when Jack stops her with a gentle brush of her hand.
“Some privacy, please,” he says, with an air of authority in his voice.
She nods curtly and leaves us alone. Jack smiles and cocks his head to the side, regarding me intently.
“Now, where were we?”
He picks up the bottle and begins to pour the champagne. He places the bottle back on the table after he finishes pouring and hands me a glass. He picks up his own glass and clinks it against mine.
“To good company and to getting to know each other better.”
I clink my glass to his and take a sip of the bubbly liquid.
So far so good.
8
Sam
We are about to go on stage at Earl’s Court in London in front of twenty thousand, die hard, Rancid Vengeance fans. Our loyal fans have supported us for eleven years, and we sometimes see the same faces in the crowd. It is extremely humbling. But, just lately, I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me. I never get nervous before a gig, fucking never. I'm usually pumped full of excitement, eagerly anticipating going out on stage and rocking the place to the ground.
Instead, I'm in my dressing room, staring absently at my reflection in the mirror. I look like crap, my face is deathly pale, my skin is clammy, and the green in my eyes isn't the same green that Peyton fell in love with. I’m a total fucking mess. The night I got up and left her keeps replaying over and over on a loop in my mind.
My hands are trembling, my heart is pounding like a fucking freight train, and I feel like I need to throw up. I take in a few deep breaths, in...out, in...out, and try to give myself a pep talk.
“Come on, Newbolt, pull yourself together.”
I slap my cheek hard, and I hear a soft chuckle behind me.
“Fuck me, Sam Newbolt giving himself a pep talk before a gig? Wonders will never cease!”
I turn and meet Brody's amused gaze.
“I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me, Brody,” I say wearily.
His face drops, and a look of concern washes over his features.
“Want to talk about it, dude?”
I shake my head.
“Same shit, different day, man,” I sigh.
He folds his arms across his chest and leans his hip against the dressing table as he regards me intently.
“Fuck me, you look like shit.”
I cock my pierced eyebrow at him.
“Cheers, mate. That fills me with such confidence, dick,” I say sarcastically, and he shrugs nonchalantly.
“I’m not going to fucking lie to you. When was the last time you had a decent night’s sleep, man?”
I shrug. I don’t actually know the answer to his question, because I can’t actually remember the last time I slept properly. I survive on four hours a night these days, if I’m lucky.
“Fuck knows, dude.” I scrub my hands down my face and squeeze my eyes shut. “I’m fucking exhausted, mate.”
Brody goes to speak, but he is interrupted by a robotic, female voice coming through the P.A system.
“Five minutes to show time, five minutes to show time.”
I take a deep breath, and Brody pats me on the back.
“Come on, Bolt; let’s give these fuckers a show!”
I laugh at his words and follow him into the corridor where Jax and Lucas are waiting for us. Jax has his guitar loosely slung across his back and his blonde hair is pulled into a low ponytail. He looks at me with concerned eyes, and he is about to speak when we are joined by our manager, Alistair.
“Boys.” He grins. “I know you won’t let me down but go out there and fucking own it tonight.”
He slaps me on the back and salutes the rest of the boys as he strides off down the corridor. Jax swings his guitar round to the front of his body so it hangs off his shoulders. Lucas expertly spins his sticks, throws them elaborately up in the air and catches them like a pro. Brody is leaning casually against the wall with his arms folded while chatting up a girl with short red hair.
She is running her long, blood-red nails up his arm and giggling at his jokes. She annoyingly smacks her lip
s together as she chews some gum. I suddenly start to think how blessed I am having these boys in my life, my brothers, my family, even though they aren’t blood. But how does that saying go? You don’t have to be blood to be family, right? These boys have been with me through thick and thin and everything in between. I’m extremely lucky to have them in my life; it’s a rare thing to have people like that that I can turn to.
“Sam?” Jax’s concerned voice cuts through my thoughts. “Everything alright, mate?”
