“Clo is leaving with my daughter in ten days, and I don’t know when I’ll see either of them again. I’m fucking distraught, Ash, and right now, drowning my sorrows in a whiskey haze sounds like the perfect solution.”
We have a new album to record and a few festivals to play in the coming six months, so Ro can’t ditch L.A. for Wicklow like his selfish fiancée is doing. I’m not completely heartless. Iknow it’s tough for Clodagh here with a two-month-old when she knows no one, but her parents and her sister have only just returned to Ireland after weeks in L.A., and she hasn’t given it a chance. She is bailing before she even attempted to settle here.
Ro has bent over backwards for her. Buying her a house in Santa Monica so she has the beach at her fingertips. Installing an indoor pool, jacuzzi, and personal treatment rooms when she asked for them. Organizing a baby shower and inviting the girlfriends and wives of some of the crew and industry people we hang out with in the hopes she could make new friends. Flying her friends and family in via private jet so they could surprise her. Purchasing supplies for the vegetable garden she said she wanted to grow, even though they all sit gathering dust in their garage.
I feel for my brother. I know this is not what he planned when he proposed to his pregnant girlfriend last year. He saw them building a future together, and it wasn’t via a trans-Atlantic long-distance relationship.
I don’t think they’re a good match, but I haven’t said it. It’s not my place to interfere. I hate seeing my brother upset, and I’m trying to be there for him because I don’t see how this will end well.
“You two are going to be the death of me.” Ash shakes her head, but there is only sadness in her gaze. “This should be a joyous occasion. They have nominated you for an Oscar. A fucking Oscar.” Her eyes latch on to mine. “Remember when we used to stay up until the early hours of the morning to watch the ceremony even though we had school the next day?”
“I remember.” I hated the pomp and ceremony, the hypocrisy, and disgusting display of wealth and smug self-satisfaction. Still, I endured monotonous hours of “Live on the Red Carpet” and the long-drawn-out awards show purely for my sister. Ash loved dissecting the women’s outfits and droolingover Hollywood’s leading men. I usually spent the night trying not to give myself eye strain and combating a permanent headache.
“This is a big deal, and I want you to enjoy it.” She folds her hands in her lap, pinning me with a familiar glacial look.
“I’d enjoy it ifshewasn’t there withhim.” Fuck, the whiskey is making me more talkative than usual. I’m pretty good at acting blasé and pretending I don’t have feelings for her beyond loathing. It’s all such a lie. Jamie is the only one who knows the truth, and it’s the one secret he has kept between us.
“It’s been almost six years, Dil. When are you going to let go of the hatred?” Ash asks. “I know she hurt you by running straight back to him. My heart ached for you, but it’s in the past. Time has moved on, and you’ve got to let it go. She hurt me too, but life is too short to bear grudges. She’s moved on. You need to move on, too.”
“I don’t want to talk about them. It’s giving me a headache.” I grab the bottle from my little brother and knock back a few mouthfuls as our car joins the line of limousines waiting to pull up in front of the theatre. Crowds line both sides of the street, monitored by LAPD’s finest. Security is tight for the event, both inside and outside the venue.
“Fine. Have it your way, but I’m warning you both now to be on your best behavior tonight. Remember, your actions reflect on the entire band. When we step out of this car, you’ll both leave your women troubles behind.” Her sharp gaze dances between me and Ro. “I mean it.” She snatches the bottle, daring me to fight her on it, but I just shrug and smile. She doesn’t know I have a naggin of whiskey in my inside jacket pocket. “This is a special occasion, and nothing is going to dampen the mood. Got it?”
52
AGE 26
My fingers twitch with a craving to slip the small bottle from my jacket and knock back a mouthful of whiskey. But I’m not brave enough to risk my sister’s wrath. Cameras are filming as the VIPs take their assigned seats. The ceremony will begin shortly, and the security personnel have advised us to remain in our seats, so I can’t even sneak out to the jacks.
The only thing worse than enduring hours of this bullshit from behind a TV screen is being forced to suffer it live with cameras watching your every expression and following your every move. Fuck plastering a fake smile on my face. I glare at the camera every time it comes near me and sneer at any asshole who attempts to look my way.
I’m not here to make friends in Hollywood.
I’m here for the band and Ash. Full stop.
Ash glances over her shoulder and then whips around, gripping my arm as she leans into my ear. “Don’t look, but they’re approaching. Just keep your cool.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t punch him in public,” I drawl, lowering my voice only because it would anger Ash if I didn’t. I don’t care if any of the surrounding pussies hear what I’ve got to say.
Ash inhales sharply as a vision in red sweeps by us. Reeve stops at the row in front of us to do some ass-licking. I know their seats are in the front row because Ash already confirmed we are eight rows behind them.
Should be interesting when we’re up on that stage.
Viv can’t escape me when I’m staring her in the face.
For years, on and off, I have tried to orchestrate a meeting at an industry event. At first, I did everything to avoid them in LA. But I’m a masochist. I want to torture myself by seeing them together up close. I want to torture myself by seeingherup close. My regular daydream was confronting her in front of her precious husband.Does he know who I am?He knows I exist, but did she ever tell him I was the man who held her together in Ireland after he shattered her spirit?
I’m guessing not, and I’m petty enough to want him to know.
Nowadays, whenever I see their names on an event attendance list, I add mine. Yet when I show up, they’re never there. At first, I presumed it was a coincidence until I realized she was doing it on purpose. Ensuring there was no opportunity for us to meet face to face. Which answers my question.
Reevedoesn’tknow.
I wonder if I should tell him tonight.
Although it might be more fun to let her stew.
Ignoring Reeve, I stare at Vivien. Tension is evident in her shoulders as she faces the stage, with her back to us. It’s probably not noticeable to most, but I know her. I know how to read her body language and she’s definitely aware of me. I can’t see her face from this angle, but she looks stunning in an unforgiving red silk and chiffon gown. It hugs her enviable curves and shapely arse. Her dark hair is up in some kind of elaborate bun, showcasing her elegant neck and the expanse of tan skin across her upper back and shoulders.
