“You didn’t have any desire to pursue your music professionally? You sure as hell have the talent.”
“Nope. Never.” Parker sipped his sparkling water, the hint of colour returning to his pale skin.
“Not even when Harvey went down that path?”
Parker twisted in his seat to face him, tucking one leg under his butt. “When Harvey formed his first band, he tried to convince me to join them. I did one gig—half of one really—and nearly puked. I really,reallymean it. It wasn’t pretty. I was sixteen, and you’d think I’d be cool with it. Being in a band is every teenager’s dream, right? Not me. I was so anxious, I could hardly focus—spent most of the set trying to keep my guts from landing on the stage. Thank God it was only a small party.”
“But you played okay in front of all of us?”
“Yeah, but I wasn’t really up on a stageperformingfor you. You guys were doing your thing, you were playingwithme, we were having fun, just jamming. It was easy for me to get lost in the music. But up on a stage, under the bright lights, with people paying good money to buy tickets to seemeplay. That’s a whole other kettle of fish.”
“Ah, I get it. Stage fright?”
Parker nodded. “Performance anxiety, fear, phobia… you name it, I’ve got it.”
“But you said yes?”Why on earth would he have agreed to perform if the stage fright is that bad?
“I’m hoping the years and some maturity will make managing my anxiety manageable. Plus I’m doing it for Harvey. And the band, of course. Harvey’s worked so hard for HyperOctane to be successful that it wouldn’t be fair if everything fell apart at the last minute. This is an unforeseen and unfortunate hurdle for Harvey, but he’ll recover soon and be back before you know it. I want to do everything in my power to keep the forward momentum so Harvey can step right back in and his dreams still be on track.”
Well, fuck!Rafe couldn’t believe that Parker honestly didn’t want to be here, or at least didn’t want to be performing with the band. He genuinely wished it was his brother who was heading to Rocktoberfest and not him.
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
“With the stage fright, you mean? Nah.” Parker shrugged. “It is what it is. Although it probably wouldn’t hurt if you kept a bucket handy.”
Rafe laughed. “I can do that.”And hopefully I can do more.
16
After basically falling unconscious into the bed the night before and having a restless night’s sleep—Jesus, jet lag was a bitch—Parker wasn’t sure if he was tired or stressed or both when he woke. His body clock was all over the place, but his mind was a mess too. Sleeping next to Rafe had been both the best thing and the worst thing he’d experienced for a while. He’d been so aware of the man sleeping next to him, of his body heat and his breathing patterns, that the times when Parker was awake were unbearable. He wanted nothing more than to curl into Rafe’s warmth and doze off, but they were out of sync in their waking/sleeping cycles, and Parker didn’t want to take advantage of a sleeping Rafe. Plus, he didn’t want to risk waking him as they both needed to grab the shut-eye when they could.
The two of them left the hotel bright and early the next morning, Parker walking in a bit of a daze. Rafe had tried to convince the other guys to come with them, but jet lag meant there was no dragging Gibbo or RG from their two-bedroom suite. There was no answer when they’d tried to call Nigel and then to knock on his door, so they’d left a message and headed out.
They’d left Sydney on a bright spring day, and the temperatures here in Santa Monica were similar to those back home, although they were heading into the cooler months here in the US, while Sydney was heading towards summer. The breeze was light, and seagulls—huge bloody things, nothing like those back in Australia—screeched overhead as they walked across the road to the pier.
“Have you been here before?” Rafe asked as they wandered under the sign announcing the Santa Monica Pier.
“No. I’ve never been to the States. I spent the last few years in London though, so I’ve seen a lot of the UK and Europe.”
“That must have been awesome. So different to Australia.” Rafe’s hair blew in the wind, and he tried unsuccessfully to tuck a stray lock behind his ear. Parker resisted the temptation to reach out and give him a hand. Instead he shoved his hands into the pockets of his cargo shorts. Their arms bumped as they continued across the bridge.
“It’s nice to be back.” The last thing Parker wanted to do was get into a discussion about London that might lead to any sort of mention of Stav. “There’s no place like Australia. It’s home, you know?”
“You should write a song about that.” Rafe elbowed him in the ribs.
“Idiot.” Parker chuckled, then looked at Rafe. He was cool and confident as he sauntered along, boots clacking on the timber boards now they’d reached the actual pier. “What about you? Have you been here before?”
“Twice. Once on holiday, and the second time to check out more of the music scene. It’s a great place to visit, but I don’t think I could live here full-time, though.”
That surprised Parker. “I thought your big dream was to burst into the charts over here?”
“Don’t get me wrong. I’d love a Billboard Top 20 or to have a Grammy or two sitting on the mantle—”
“Along with all those ARIAs.” Parker remembered Harvey’s excitement when the band won their first Australian Recording Industry Association award. He’d been so proud of his brother.
Rafe grinned. “Yes, along with the ARIAs. But I like the laid-back lifestyle in Australia, playing the pubs, just hanging out. Living here in the heart of LA, well, it’d be great for short bursts, but it’s not really where I want to put down roots, so it’ll be interesting to see what happens in the future.”
“What about the other guys? You think they’d move?” Until Rafe had mentionednotwanting to move, Parker hadn’t given Harvey leaving Australia any consideration, he just hadn’t equated US success with leaving Australia. The idea of putting so much distance between them again hurt.
