On impulse, I pick up my phone and start sifting through the images until I find what I’m looking for—a rare candid shot of Rick, his face split in a carefree grin as he strums one of my old guitars in the shitty living room of the house where we grew up. With its dingy yellow and brown seventies carpet and dark wood panelling, it isn’t appealing, but the joy on Rick’s face is.
“That’s Rick,” I say, tilting the screen towards Kyle. “He’s a good kid. Just a little lost, but he’s got a good heart. I’d do anything for him.”
Kyle studies the picture, then glances back at me. “You miss him.”
I swallow hard past the lump forming in my throat. “Yeah. I do. I miss a lot of things. Mostly I miss Rick like he was back then. Innocent. Happy. I hate not providing him with a real home.” I meet Kyle’s gentle gaze. “I’ve been chasing dreams for so long that—fuck, I don’t want to sound ungrateful—but sometimes… sometimes I just want to slow down. To have a normal life, you know?”
Kyle reaches out, placing his hand over mine. “I get it,” he says simply.
I twist my hand beneath his until our fingers lace together. Somehow, I don’t feel quite so alone.
My phone vibrates on the table between us, shattering the moment. I glance at the screen as Nigel’s name flashes up. “Hang on a sec,” I say, unlacing my fingers from Kyle’s to pick up the device.
Nigel’s text is brief and to the point. ‘Check your emails. Press commitments for after the cruise. World of Rock wants an interview.’
My stomach twists into knots. World of Rock. The same magazine that had a field day with the so-called drug bust. The one that painted me as a strung-out rocker on a downward spiral, and a liar.
“Axel?” Kyle’s voice breaks through my spiralling thoughts. “What’s wrong?”
I toss the phone back onto the table, my appetite vanishing. “It’s Nigel. He wants me to do an interview with World of Rock when we get back.”
Kyle frowns, his brow creasing with concern. “Isn’t that the magazine that you said…?” He trails off, but I know what he’s thinking. The one that dragged my name through the mud.
“Yeah,” I confirm, running a hand through my hair. “They’re probably just waiting to dredge up all the old shit again. Twist my words and make me look like some kind of junkie, and it’ll be terrible press for the drug-help line I was a spokesperson for.”
Kyle is quiet for a moment as he studies me. “Maybe it doesn’t have to be that way,” he suggests gently. “Your life, your music… it all comes with a certain amount of publicity, right? You can’t avoid it forever. What if you tried to get ahead of it? Lead the conversation, preempt their questions?”
I snort, the sound harsh and bitter. “And say what, exactly? ‘Sorry for being a screw-up, won’t happen again’?”
Kyle shakes his head, reaching out to lay a hand on my arm. “No. But maybe…” He hesitates, as if weighing his words. “Maybe it’s time to talk to Rick. He’s eighteen, Axel. Old enough to take responsibility for his own actions.”
I stiffen, my jaw clenching at the thought. Rick’s mistakes splashed across the tabloids for all the world to see? But beneath the knee-jerk urge to protect him, I know there’s some truth to Kyle’s suggestion. I haven’t really given Rick a choice in any of this, and he needs to deal with it if he’s to address his own issues and move forward. Plus, if I’m to set a good example, maybe people need to see that I empathise with the situation they may find themselves in, that it’s never too late to make change.
“Yeah,” I say slowly. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s time we had that conversation.”
Kyle squeezes my arm in a silent show of support.
Asnightfalls,Kyleand I, followed by Brian, make our way towards the grand auditorium. The corridors are full of guests making their way to and from dinner venues and bars, with a huge number heading towards the grand auditorium for the concert. The excitement in the air is palpable.
Brian steps closer as faces turn my way as people recognise me. “Hey, Zelman.” “Love your music, man.”
I nod and keep walking. Kyle’s arm brushes mine as he stands between me and the people in the corridor and I focus on that rather than the irrational fear that people are closing in.
“You’ve got this,” Kyle says, his voice low, his presence giving me comfort.
I take a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. Wren and a couple of the ship’s staff appear and guide us through a door that leads to a service corridor until we find ourselves backstage. I let out a sigh of relief—facing the people who are here to see me perform wasn’t that bad. Funny how having Kyle by my side made me feel more comfortable than Brian ever did.
I want Kyle to have the whole show experience, so drag him to the curtains. Peering from a spot hidden in the wings, the auditorium is a sight to behold—cavernous, ornate, and glittering with lights. Music is playing through the speakers and people are filing in to sit in the plush velvet seats, while servers deliver drinks. The stage stretches out to the left of where we stand, the band set up on one side. I’m up first and I’ll be performing an abridged set of songs accompanied by the ship’s house band, the same band who accompanied me at the pool party so I know they’re up to the task.
Off to the side, I catch a glimpse of Crystal Starlight, resplendent in a shimmering gown and towering heels. She catches my eye and winks. I wish I had her confidence. I’ve received a rundown of the proceedings and there was a brief sound check, so it should be fairly straightforward.
“Wow,” Kyle says from my side, eyes wide with wonder. “This is incredible, Axel. I can’t believe I’m about to watch you perform in front of all these people.”
“Knowing you’re here… it means everything.” I squeeze his hand. I ignore the crowd and focus on him.
“Nearly showtime,” the stage manager says, interrupting the moment.
“Go take your seat.” I press a quick kiss to Kyle’s cheek, and watch as he ducks from behind the curtain and down the steps to slip into his front-row seat. He’s wearing another pair of dark jeans and a shirt that pulls across his broad chest. I shake my head to clear visions of his naked body and head backstage.
