Page 45 of Rock Star

Now we were finishing our final set at Wembley. We’d arrived before the crowds and Jake had kept a firm eye on us so there’d been no chance for anyone to snort coke. I was glad of that—my resistance might have crumpled despite Firebird—I was so climbing the walls in anticipation of performing then seeing my dad.

The spotlight fell on me as I stood motionless at the end of the catwalk. Knowing my parents and family were in the private box I’d arranged for them made this part of the performance fucking hard, but I’d discussed this with the band, and we’d voted to carry on.

I stared down at my hands and took a deep breath. As per usual tears pooled behind my eyelids and I swallowed the lump in my throat before speaking into the mic. “Thank you for coming to our concert tonight. You’ve been a great audience. I hope you’ve enjoyed the show.” My voice wavered and I steeled myself to continue. “ChiMera has dedicated the European leg of the ‘Ghost in the Heart’ tour to my sister, Ella, who passed away last October.” I paused, sucked in more air. “Her favourite song was ‘The Alchemist’. In a minute, our technicians will dim the lights. You can switch on your phones and join in if you like.”

My heart almost burst out of my chest when over one hundred thousand people began chanting in unison, “Ella, Ella, Ella.”

Holy shit!

I waited until they fell silent, then Foxy’s signal came though my in-ear monitors, the spotlights dimmed, and we started singing, “Don’t waste your time with explanations. People only hear what they want to hear.”

The crowd sang at full volume and my skin prickled as thousands of phone lights lit up the stadium.

“This one was for you, Ella,” I shouted, warmth spreading through me.

The fans roared their approval.

I raised my arms and pointed toward the box where my family was sitting. “And for you.”

Our set ended like it always did with ‘Live, Love, Lose’. Gold confetti tangled in our hair while we took our final bow. I thanked the audience again, and then I thanked Vanilla Sky for supporting us as well as our entire crew who had made the tour such a success. Credits rolled on the screens behind us, naming every single person who’d worked with us the past couple months.

The audience screaming their appreciation, we ran to our dressing rooms to cool down and prepare for the after-show party.Jake had booked the Family and Friends Room for the celebration. The crew helped themselves to food and drink, served by caterers. A crazy ‘school’s out for summer’ atmosphere filled the place… although we still had to play Glastonbury, we’d need a much smaller entourage there.

I stared across the crowded room.

There was Dad, standing next to Mum.

My heart thumped against my ribs.

Our eyes met.

He’d aged since the last time I’d seen him on that terrible day, the day when we’d stood next to each other at Ella’s graveside.

My Dad, Blake Wainwright, billionaire property developer.

I grew up with the proverbial silver spoon in my mouth, spending summers at St. Tropez and winters in the Caribbean. It was thanks to Mum’s down-to-earth influence that I hadn’t turned out a complete dickhead.

I lifted my hand in greeting and my chest squeezed.

After a painfully long minute or so, Dad returned the salute.

A step in the right direction, but how far?

I waited for him to come up to me.

The seconds ticked by.

We eyed each other like two rams about to lock horns.

Who would break first?

Dad’s face reflected his indecision, and I took that as a sign to make the first move.

I strode up to him and touched my hand to his arm. “Hello.”

He rubbed at the middle of his forehead and closed his eyes with a grimace.

“Hello, son,” he said gruffly.

I smirked. “So, you’ve decided to speak to me at last.”

He blinked his eyes open. “I enjoyed the concert.” He paused. “Despite everything, I’m proud of you...”

“Thanks.” A slow smile spread over my face. “That means a lot to me.”

“Your mother told me what Ella revealed to her…”

“I’ll do everything I can to find out more.”

“What good will that do?” He exhaled a long, slow breath. “She’s gone. Nothing will bring her back.”

“I know.” I set my jaw. “But I won’t have closure until I’m fully in the picture.”

He nodded, once, and I saw the need in his eyes.

Dad wanted closure too.

We all did.

Mum came up with my half-brother Noah, his wife Gwyneth and his dad Declan. They pumped my hand and clapped me on the back, telling me how much they’d loved the show.

“Come and meet Phoenix,” I said, leading them to where she was standing next to Hayley and Camila. “She’s the love of my life, but don’t say anything to anyone yet.”

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