“Don’t worry, he’s just being a dick,” Lucas says, stepping closer. He places a hand on my shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of my head before turning towards the door. His phone pings, and he pulls it from his back pocket, typing furiously as he walks down the hall.
I wait a few minutes to allow the flush of my face to settle before rejoining the party.
Chapter 3
James
“Alright, good job, lads,” Oliver calls, clapping me on the shoulder. I give him a brief nod, slipping the strap of my bass over my head and settling it back into its case. The latches click shut, and I straighten, turning to pack up the rest of my gear.
During the week and on most weekends, I work as a construction labourer. Most of my time is spent digging, preparing worksites, mixing concrete and assisting other trades. But my side hustle, and my main focus is playing bass in a band, Atlas Veil, with my best mates. We mainly play progressive rock, but sometimes we throw in a classic rock or punk cover when we gig at local venues. While I also play the electric guitar, the bass is where my heart really lies.
We’ve just wrapped up another long day of rehearsal at Tom’s house and I’m exhausted. Oliver, Tom, Will, and I have been grinding nonstop for months—working twice as hard ever since we found out that our favourite band, Bound to Oblivion, one of the biggest names in rock, is holding auditions for an opening act on their European tour. The second we caught wind of it, we were all in—no hesitation.
This is the chance of a lifetime—playing for fans who love progressive rock and sharing the stage with our heroes. It’s our shot at recognition. We’ve paid our dues with pub gigs, weddings, and festivals; now we’re ready for the next step. We want to be signed by a major label, perform in stadiums around the world, in front of tens of thousands of people. If we nail this audition, we could be on the fast track to the big time. We submitted the audition application two months ago, and as soon as we got the approval, we dove into work, putting in the hours, day in, day out.
“You lot fancy a pint?” Tom asks, his eyes flitting between us, eager for takers. A cold lager sounds perfect right now. But no—I’ve got to show up at my brother’s engagement party. The problem isn’t the party or even April. It’s the fact that I have to celebrate my bloody brother.
“As much as I’d love to, I’ve got Lucas’s thing tonight,” I tell them.
“You mean his engagement party,” Oliver clarifies.
I grunt in response.
“Ah,” Tom says in an amused tone, “my condolences, mate.”
“Have one for me, yeah? I’ll see you next week,” I say, nodding at the boys as I grab my gear and head for the door. Oliver follows close behind me towards my car. London’s great for public transport, but I wouldn’t risk jumping on the tube with my bass. She’s my baby.
“I think I can manage that. Try to enjoy the evening,” Oliver says as I place my gear into the back seat.
“Yeah, man, I will,” I reply, turning to bump his fist before swinging open the car door and dropping into the seat.
Turning the key in the ignition, the speakers roar to life, blasting Bound to Oblivion’s latest album through the small space. I press the accelerator, reluctantly heading to my brother’s party.
It’s not a great distance from Tom’s place to Lucas and April’s townhouse in Fulham, but Friday night traffic in London is always a bitch. Not that I’m complaining about running late. In fact, I’m grateful for the delay.
I take a deep breath, letting the bass wash over me. My shoulders and fingers ache from hours of playing. Already ninety minutes late, I skip going home to change. Lucas can deal with me turning up as I am—he’ll give me shit for it, uptight prick, but fuck it.
As I pull up to Lucas and April’s, a groan threatens to slip from my lips. I can’t believe I’m doing this. The last thing I want is to pretend everything’s fine while my brother gets to play happy couple with his fiancée. I’d rather be anywhere else, but no—I’m stuck playing the part of the dutiful little brother, making small talk and enduring insipid conversations Lucas decides to drag me into.
Reaching across the centre console, I toss a couple of stray jumpers and dirty work vests over my guitar case, hoping to hide it. Stepping out of the car, I adjust my jacket and start walking.
I’ve got a party to get through, a smile to wear, and a brother to appease.
“Oh! Look, Peter, he’s here!” I hear my mum’s excited voice as soon as I step through the door. My eyes immediately find her as she hurries over. I spot Dad standing and chatting with a young blond woman as I bend to kiss Mum’s cheek and shoot him a nod in greeting before pulling her in for a firm hug.
Christ, I love this woman.
“Hey, Mum,” I say, offering a smile. I let her go and take in the room. The lively music fills the space, and the buzz ofconversation surrounds me. There are plenty of people here, most of whom I don’t recognise, except for April’s close friends—Gemma, Anna, and Anna’s husband, Mason, I think. I’m sure most of these guests belong to April. Lucas has never really had many friends—he’s always been a bit too wrapped up in himself to bother with other people. It’s not like he’s short on charm; he just prefers things to be about him.
My brows furrow. Is Gemma wearing lingerie?
I shake the thought away as the delicious smell of party food wafts through the air. The house looks gorgeous—April’s doing, no doubt.
“You’re a bit late, hon,” Mum gently chides, glancing at her wristwatch to make her point.
I roll my eyes. “We had practice. Got caught up. Sorry, I’m here now.”
Her eyes rake over me, from my messy hair to my scuffed shoes, and she purses her lips before leaning in. “You couldn’t have thrown on a shirt?” she teases.
