“She’s too old for you.”
“I’m almost eighteen, and she’s only nineteen. How the fuck is that too old?” Ro glares at me.
“She’s almost twenty, and you’re still only seventeen.” I’m splitting hairs, but so what? I need Ro to drop all fantasies of him with Vivien even more now I’ve decided on my plan. “Plus, she’s still upset after her recent breakup.”
Until I swoop in and glue back the fragments of her broken heart.Only to rip it apart again, the devil snarls in my ear.
“She told you that?” Ro arches a brow, sitting up under the duvet and running a hand through his messy dark hair.
“Ash mentioned it last night.” In between reaming me out of it for my shitty attitude. My sister told me Grace’s ex really did a number on her and she’s hurting bad. Guilt sits on my chest, but I force it to subside. I’ve made up my mind. I’ll just have to find a way to deal with it.
“I’ll help her to forget him,” Ro says.
“It’s not happening,” I bark, rubbing my throbbing temples. “Find your next girlfriend somewhere else.”
“Shut the fuck up, Dil. You don’t get to dictate every aspect of my life.”
“Hey now,” Jay cuts in. “We don’t come to blows over a woman. Ever.”
“He doesn’t get to tell me who I can and can’t like. It’s bad enough I have to deal with his bullshit about the band.”
“Bullshit?” I sit up straighter and outright glower at my little bro.
“We have a real chance, Dil. Everyone says it, and the feedback from the EP is phenomenal,” Ro says.
We released a six-track EP three months ago which was very well received. Momentum and sales are building all the time, so my brother isn’t wrong.
Ro’s eyes widen, like always when he’s talking about the band potential. “We could make it big, bro, but you need toadjust your mindset. We need to strike now! We need to hire a manager and try to get a recording deal. We’re never going to get anywhere if we just focus on Ireland. Think outside the box, Dil. We need to expand our horizons and start thinking bigger.”
“He makes a lot of sense,” Jay supplies.
“I’m not disputing that.” We’ve had this conversation several times lately. “Or the fact we could make it big. All I’m saying is, do we really want that?”
Ro snorts out a laugh. “What the fuck kind of question is that? Who the fuck doesn’t want to be rich and famous with girls hanging off their every word? Who doesn’t want to make their passion a reality and travel around the world living the dream? Come the fuck on, bro. Stop talking shite.”
“You’re looking at it with rose-tinted glasses, Ro. Being rich and famous has a dark side,” I say. “Celebrities have no fucking privacy, and trust goes out the window. There’s a reason so many famous people are addicts. They turn to drink, drugs, and sex to block out all the dark shit. Can you honestly say you want all that? You want to leave Ireland and barely see our families? Live overseas, hidden behind gates and walls because you can’t leave your house without being besieged?” I drag my hands through my hair. “Doesn’t sound like a dream to me.”
Maybe I’m hesitant because I’ve seen how Reeve’s and Vivien’s lives have played out over social media the past few years. Hell, you only need to look at Vivien to see the burden it’s put on her. The girl flew halfway around the world to avoid the spotlight, and Ronan wants to shove us into it at warp speed?
I’m not convinced, and the thought of moving to America and potentially running into Simon and Reeve is something I have to consider too. It could work to my advantage. I could twist the knife and make Simon nervous every time I gave an interview. But I have a feeling if we got a recording deal without me having signed the NDA it’d somehow disappear or end up adisaster. I don’t think Simon Lancaster will let me build a music career in the US without signing my freedom of speech away. He’s powerful enough to make things difficult if I don’t play things his way.
It's a tangled mess, and it’s not like I can explain it to the band.
“Not every celebrity becomes an addict, and we never do hard drugs,” Ro replies.
It’s the one rule I laid down when we moved into the city two years ago. Weed and booze are one thing, hard drugs quite another. It’s a slippery slope, and we’ve collectively agreed as a band to never go there.
“I’m just saying you need to think about it more, and we should learn to walk before we try to run. We’re getting more radio play and starting to earn decent money from the EP. Let’s start releasing more of our material and let it build organically from there. If something comes of that, then grand, let’s roll with it, but I don’t think now is the time to get too ahead of ourselves.”
“That makes sense too.” Jay plops his sock-covered feet on the coffee table.
“You’re sucking all the joy out of my life,” Ro huffs, yanking the covers back up over him and lying down.
“Dramatic much?” I tease.
“Fuck off, Dil.” He shoves his middle finger up at me, but there’s no heat behind the words.
Ro doesn’t hold a grudge for long. Unlike Shane and me when we get into disagreements. We’re both as stubborn as one another and can last days cold-shouldering each other. Ro gets over his anger as quickly as it comes on, and it’s hard to ever stay mad at him. He doesn’t understand I’m trying to protect him, as much as myself, because he’s high on life with the band and enthusiastic and excited for the future. I am too, but with caveats.
