Of course, if I quit the pub, it means hunting for a new job. Something I can do during the day, so Toni and I have more time together. Or, now I’ve decided to stay with Fifth Circle, I suppose I could do something to increase my income there.
The idea pops into my head—as if it’s no big deal. As if making a living as a musician isn’t an obsession I’ve been avoiding for years, but a simple matter of practicality. Of income minus expenses.
My quarter share of Fifth Circle’s profit—from live shows, sales, and streaming services—makes up about a third of what I need to support myself. We’ve managed that without even trying hard. If we put more conscious effort into growing our audience, and use the current momentum as Johnny suggested, is it so crazy to think I could achieve my childhood dream of making a successful career as a musician?
On the surface, approaching the idea from such a pragmatic viewpoint seems a world away from the larger-than-life rock god concept I’ve always held in the back of my mind. But if I look deeper, is it so different?
For me, being a rock star was never about having piles of money, or living in a mansion, or throwing wild parties. That was Zac’s ideal life, not mine. When I consider what I need in my life to be happy, the list isn’t so grandiose. I need my music, my band, and freedom of expression. I need an audience to connect with. I need my black leather pants because I’d rather die than forsake them. And I need Toni.
It doesn’t matter if the crowd fills a pub or a stadium. It doesn’t matter if I’m cutting corners to pay the rent in a dingy share house or if my bank account is overflowing. As long as I have all I need, and I do, I’ll be safe from the old obsessions of the past. This life I’m living may not be perfect, I have more growing to do and more goals to strive for, but I’m not afraid anymore. I’ve already succeeded in all the ways that count. This life—right here and now—this is my dream come true.
TWENTY-EIGHT
______
TONI
I knock on Rodney’s door so hard it makes my knuckles hurt. It’s the only way to make sure I go through with this. God knows, it’s long overdue. I hope Leif isn’t home. This apology is going to be hard enough without him trying to glare me to death.
The door opens, but when Rodney sees me, he scowls and tries to close it again.
I launch myself against the other side, pushing hard. “Rodney, please,” I yell through the wavering gap. “I’ve been trying to call you for weeks. You have to let me explain eventually.”
“So you can lie to me again?” he yells back. “Screw you, Toni. Screw you and the unicorn you rode in on.”
Scowling, I jam my booted foot in the gap. “You can’t screw me or my unicorn if you don’t open the damned door.” I give an extra hard shove in the instant he lets go. The door swings open and I tumble forwards, sprawling across the floor at his feet.
Winded, I roll onto my back and glare up at him. He stands over me with crossed arms and a petty smirk. I gasp in indignation. “You did that on purpose.”
He snorts. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Spinning on his heels, he flounces into the kitchen where he’s in the middle of using the uber-expensive coffee machine he and Leif purchased to prepare a latte. “Do you want coffee?”
Breathing out a sigh of relief, I join him in the kitchen. “Yes, please.”
He grunts in acknowledgment before getting out another mug. Then he reaches into the pantry for a bottle of instant coffee. “I save the good coffee for my real friends. You get the shitty stuff.”
Warmth creeps into my cheeks. “I will suffer it gladly if it means you’ll allow me to present you with my heartfelt apology.”
“Heartfelt,” he scoffs. “Do you even have a heart?”
“Indeed, I do.” I always knew it was in here somewhere. It kept me alive, and at times it would twinge with disappointment or loneliness. I never realised how much it could feel, though. How much it could hurt and love and appreciate, until I met Ned. “This silly old heart I have is a little banged up at the moment,” I tell Rodney. “Knowing I hurt you, my oldest friend in the world, that’s definitely a sword with a double-edge.”
“Good,” Rodney says pointedly, before handing me a mug and gesturing towards the dining table.
We sit and I take a sip of my instant coffee. I pointedly refuse to grimace.
“I’m sorry about what happened at the engagement party,” I say, getting straight to the obvious. “I never meant to ruin your night.”
He makes a sound of exasperation as he crosses his arms over his chest once more. “Don’t flatter yourself, Toni. You didn’t ruin anything.”
“Well, I didn’t mean to upset you, either.”
A single shoulder lifts as he avoids looking at me, a sure sign he’s starting to soften. “Well, you needn’t worry because the party raged on without you. I’ll have you know it was a tremendous success.”
“That’s excellent news.” I smile, relieved beyond measure, before asking, “Who ended up being the last to leave?”
Rodney lets out a loud groan, his posture finally relaxing. “Leif’s drunk Uncle Bert. He fell asleep on a couch in this tiny nook clear on the other side of the building. If he didn’t snore like a bandsaw we may never have found him.”
I can’t help but laugh at the appalled expression on Rodney’s face. “How terrible.”
