“Dani—”
“A TV special. Do you know how many bands would kill to have their own TV special?” She doesn’t give him time to answer. “More than that, do you know how many bands would kill for a TV special at Madison Square Garden?”
“I bet you’re gonna tell me,” Brett mumbles, and that is his second mistake. She strides up to him and stands toe to toe. Her voice is a little lower, and that is not a good sign.
“You’re here because this band is the best. Collectively. Your fans love what you do. Your success is purely down to how they feel about you.”
His third mistake is to roll his eyes and yawn. The rest of us cringe, knowing he’s pretty much screwed.
“Oh, I’m sorry, am I boring you? Forgive me.” She grins sarcastically and cuts him down to size. “Listen to me, youself-centred piece of shit. Just because Koolum Law is a worldwide phenomenon, it doesn’t mean you stop working. If you want to remain part of this band, then you turn up like everyone else, you give it all you’ve got like everyone else, and you work your arse off like everyone else. You might chart on every continent, but you still answer to the people who put you there. You might be every girl’s wet dream, but you’ve got to answer to those girls if you don’t step up and give them the show they expect. So, get your arse in gear, get down from your imaginary pedestal, and do your job. You hear me?”
“Yeah, I hear ya.” It takes several attempts, but finally, he throws the guitar strap over his head.
Fuck, is he drunk? His jaw ticks, his teeth grind together, and his chest pumps up and down. It’s obvious he’s riled up and, as Dani is about to walk away, he opens his big mouth again. “Just remember who pays your wages, bitch.” Brett struts around the stage like a fucking peacock. What the hell has got into him? Yeah, he’s a cocky mother, but this is a whole new level of arsehole.
There’s a high-pitched screech from the heel of Dani’s trainers as she turns. “You wanna run that by me again, big man?”
He keeps his mouth shut and refuses to make eye contact when she marches over to him.
“You,” she says as she pokes him in the chest, “should just remember who put you where you are today. Individually, you’re nothing, but together, you’re dynamite. None of you are bigger than the band, and every single member is replaceable if necessary.” She points at each of us, but her finger finally lands back on Brett. “And you in particular would do well to remember that. Now shake off your hangover, stop being an arsehole, and get to work. We don’t havetime for your fucking tantrums.” She storms off stage, leaving Brett clenching his fists.
“Not cool, man.” Max shakes his head.
“Who the fuck asked you?” Brett sneers, which only confirms something is really fucking off with him today. I’ve never heard him speak to Max like that. Ever.
I step in. “Hey, get your head in the game. Don’t take it out on the rest of us just because the boss brought you down to size. Where were you anyway?”
He doesn’t answer right away, but there’s a sadistic smirk on his face when he stalks up to me, puts his hand on my shoulder, and says, “You wanna know where I was?”
“That’s what I asked.” Why is he acting like a dick?
His mouth leans over to my ear and the smell of whiskey fills my nostrils. “Watching live-action porn, starring your wife.”
Every muscle in my body fills with rage. My hand clenches into a fist. My arm is itching to arch back so I can aim for the centre of his pretty face, but there’s just one thing stopping me. Oz is watching. I can’t let him see me like this.
Brett breaks into laughter. “Jesus, man. Don’t take everything so seriously.”
I lower my hand. “Wanker,” I grunt and walk away. I calm myself down, then call over my shoulder, “If it wasn’t for the fact my son is up in the stands watching us, I would fucking end you.”
Brett knows my marriage is shaky and my wife is a no-go subject, but why he overstepped the line, I don’t know.
Soundcheck finally gets underway with our full band, but the frost between us is far from thawing. I feel his eyes constantly following my every move, and they are fucking venomous. I’m at a point where I want to get out of here as soon as possible because if I don’t, I will regret my actions.This is the furthest he’s ever gone with winding me up. He’s out of control, and I’m fighting the urge to kick his arse.
The atmosphere only gets worse when Brett refuses to take part in the interview later.
“I’m not feeling good, so if you want me in shape for the show, the interview has to go,” he says with a ridiculous overly British accent.
While I was talking to a few of the roadies, one of them let slip Brett was drinking in his dressing room. Fucking arse-wipe. He’s lucky Dani is letting him off those interviews, but then again, it’s safer if he keeps away. I bet something obnoxious would fall out of his mouth, which would guarantee the press getting a killer story. He’s overstepped the line in a big way today and I have a feeling in my gut there’s more trouble ahead.
We played out of our skins last night, and even Brett was at the top of his game, although he kept his distance from the rest of the guys. For me, the entire show was a total blast and one hell of an adrenaline rush.
At the final after-party, I turned my attention to thanking staff and crew for their hard work during our gruelling tour. All other thoughts were pushed out of my head until I reached the door of my four-bed apartment. It must have been nearly three a.m. when I crept inside. Ozzie was sound asleep, and I guessed Connie was too, but Chelsea wasn’t home for a second night. The sad thing is, I didn’t care what she was doing or who she was doing it with. What does that say about the state of our marriage?
It’s late afternoon when I hear the key in the lock andlook up from the movie I’m watching with Oz. His little face lights up when she finally walks through the door.
He runs towards her at full speed. “Mom!”
“Hi, baby! How’s my boy?” She bends down to his height and his tiny arms grip around her neck so tight. I guess he’s probably scared stiff she’ll leave him again. “It’s all right, baby. I’m here.”
