“I don’t think my little brother got the memo.”
Jay sighs. “The poor fucker. I hope she lets him down gently.”
“He’ll be over her by the next day. You know how Ro is.”
“I don’t know.” He runs his fingers through the bristle on his chin. “I think Grace Mills has done a number on both O’Donoghue men.”
I fucking hope not, for both our sakes. Things are already complicated enough.
Sometimes, I really wish I’d told Jamie what happened with Simon Lancaster when I was seventeen. I hate lying to him by default, but I can’t bring it up now. Jamie is still all cut up about Shauna. His oldest sister—and only sibling—died of a brain aneurysm last year.
It was completely unexpected and came out of the blue. Jamie was in a bad way for months. Almost got kicked out of Trinners for not going to class. Passed his summer exams by the skin of his teeth. He threw himself into the music and the band lifestyle in much the same way I did at seventeen, albeit much less self-destructive.
Now, his parents’ marriage is hanging by a thread. Although no one would be surprised if they finally went their separate ways, I know it’d hurt Jay. As crappy as his parents are, they’re the only blood family he has left. Them splitting up now, after allthe pain they put their kids through, would be like a kick in the teeth.
So, yeah, I can’t tell Jay even if lying to him doesn’t sit right with me.
Same goes for my family for different reasons. If I told the truth now, Ma and Da would beg me to attend therapy and find a way to let it all go. Ro would want me to take the money so we could use it for the band. Ash would beat my ass for involving her new best friend in my revenge plans. Not sure where my older brothers would land. But it doesn’t matter because I can’t tell them, and at this point, I most likely never will. It’s not like anything good would come from spilling the beans after all this time.
“Earth to fuckface.” Jamie clicks his fingers in my face. “You totally spaced out, mate.”
“I’ve a lot on my mind,” I admit as the first opening act runs onto the stage, encouraged by a loud roar from the crowd.
“I’m here for ya.” Jamie clamps his hand on my shoulder and squeezes.
The next three hours fly by. The gig is incredible. All the bands were great, but The Frames killed it. Jay and I kept to ourselves, and the others only sought us out at the end so Vivien could surprise us with backstage passes.
Ro is about to come in his boxers. He’s bouncing all over the place like a kid on a sugar high. I’m clenching my hands and growling every time he picks Vivien up and swings her around.
“You look like you’re seconds away from beating the shit out of your little bro.” Jamie elbows me in the ribs. “Relax, mate. She’s not into him.”
Then why is she letting him touch her all the time?
“Why do you look so fucking grumpy?” Ash asks, looping her arm through mine as we make our way to the backstage entrance. “Aren’t you excited?”
“You’d swear we were meeting the fucking queen.”
Ash rolls her eyes, dragging me along. “I know you hate all the celebrity bullshit, but you respect and admire The Frames. Bond with them over music, Dil. This is an opportunity to make some important contacts. Try to pull that stick out of your arse long enough not to blow things, yeah?”
Forcing thoughts of Vivien from my mind, I do as my sister suggests. I owe it to Toxic Gods to make the most of this chance. The guys are down to earth and not your stereotypical band. It’s not hard to gel with them. Over the course of a couple hours, we talk music and the industry over a few beers.
I turn a blind eye when Ash slips out of the green room holding hands with one of the crew, like how I ignore the clearly pissed-off look on Jamie’s face when she disappears out of sight. Cat and Vivien stick close together, and I never lose sight of the princess even when we’re deep in conversation with The Frames. A few crew members approach her, not shy in expressing interest. I’m hugely relieved when she dismisses all of them with a gracious smile.
On the way home in the taxi, I shoot Glen Hansard from The Frames an email with a copy of our EP. He said he wants to listen to it, and it didn’t seem like he was just being polite. Still, I’m a little shocked when he reaches out first thing the next morning to say he has already listened to it, and he’s impressed. He has a few contacts in Ireland and L.A., and he’s going to reach out to some people and then pass on their details. It’s extremely generous of him, and I only respect him more for it.
“Let me look at you.” Ma grips my forearms, inspecting me from head to toe in the kitchen of our farmhouse.
“Looks like the same troublemaker to me,” Shane quips, flipping me the bird behind Ma’s back.
“You look thinner. Are you eating enough?”
“Ma, you say this every time I come for Sunday dinner. I eat plenty. Stop worrying.” I kiss the top of her head as Shane’s fiancée, Fiona, appears in the kitchen holding their three-year-old daughter in her arms.
“Uncle Dil-Dil,” Chloe screeches, wriggling out of her mum’s arms. Her brown curls bounce up and down as she races towards me.
I crouch down and open my arms.
She flings herself at me, and I bundle her up, inhaling the strawberry scent from her hair and the warmth from her little body. “Me missed you,” she says, peppering my face with wet kisses as I stand with her in my arms.
