Page 22 of Not Another Rockstar
“Love you, Mum. Make sure Dad stays away from the news.”
Phoebe hoped they wouldn’t receive any more harassment. Her dad had already suffered two heart attacks in the last five years, and she didn’t want all the hate online to increase his stress.
“I’ll do my best, but you know how he worries,” Mum said. “I’ll let you get some rest, and make sure to keep up with the physio. I’m sure you’ll be back painting in no time.”
Phoebe wished she had her mother’s unwavering optimism as she stared at her scarred hand.
After hanging up, curiosity got the better of her and she looked up the video on her laptop. On the screen, Phoebe’s lavender hair stood out amongst the crowd of fans—the band’s fans; they certainly weren’t hers. She cringed as she watched herself turn when her name was shouted, the carton exploded as it hit Axel walking behind her. He got the worst of it sincethe carton rebounded off him and splattered on her. He’d been kind enough to help her wipe the egg out of her hair. The bands’ security quickly blocked the bystander’s camera. The last thing they caught was Axel arguing with one of the security guards, while the rest of the band bundled into the waiting cars.
Keys turned in the door, and Phoebe closed her laptop. She half expected Cillian to walk in with pink roses, her favourite, as he did when he came home from every tour. She felt a rush of overwhelming sadness as she remembered he wouldn’t be walking through the door again.
“I’ve got your groceries, and I’m never picking up your birth control again,” Nick said, removing his baseball cap. “I’m your older brother, and I’ll take a bullet for you, but never again.”
Phoebe chuckled, delighted by his embarrassment. “You insisted on helping—and speaking of discomfort, you’ve been ignoring Mum’s calls?”
“With cancelling the rest of the tour and speculation about the next album, I haven’t had a chance to call her back.” Grimacing, Nick put the groceries down on the kitchen table behind her sofa.
“She sends her love,” Phoebe said, putting her laptop on the table. “Did you know they were being harassed?”
Nick hesitated, scratching the back of his head. “Anita told me Mum called her about the threats. They’ve filed a report with the police just in case.”
He’d already dealt with it. Of course their parents went to him first. He was the eldest, if only by two years.
“I thought we agreed no more secrets?” She raised her eyebrows as he unpacked her groceries.
“Sorry, last time,” Nick promised, tossing over her favourite salt and vinegar crisps. She was getting better at catching things with one hand. “Thank you for covering for me with Mum. Speaking of avoiding people, I couldn’t take being at home amoment longer.” He reached into her fridge for an energy drink, a habit they both shared. “Axel is locked up in his basement. I think his drumsticks have become surgically attached to his hands. August is wandering around the place like a lost puppy, and Bart won’t leave Cillian’s bedroom door. No one is used to being this idle, and I’m beginning to agree with Anita about pushing ahead with the next album.”
“Without Cillian?” she asked, realising that only two of the four OG members remained.
“I don’t want to do it without him, but none of us want to disband. Moving forward might be the best way to heal,” he said, sounding unsure.
She wondered how long it would be before he discovered there were no songs for the next album. She swallowed her secret, feeling like a hypocrite. They’d promised to stop keeping secrets.
“Don’t rush into anything,” she said. “Maybe wait until after the funeral before making a decision.”
“You’re right—the others think the same. I think I just want the distraction. Anyway, Cill’s mum wants me to pick out something for him to be buried in. I can’t even open the door to his room, never mind go through his things to look for the songs he was working on.”
“I’m sorry, I wish I could do something to help.”
Phoebe doubted he was sleeping, given how he chugged the energy drink.
“I hate to ask this, given how everything happened. Did Cill ever mention what he wanted in case he…” Nick drifted off, collapsing beside her on the couch.
Phoebe swallowed the golf ball in her throat. “We were too focused on building our future. You know him, he never liked to think anything could go wrong.”
Nick scrubbed his forehead as a silence filled the space between them.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” His apology tumbled out. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Cillian’s cheating. I never wanted you to find out like that.”
She cradled a pillow to her chest. “Let’s not.” She didn’t have the energy for this conversation.
“I want to say that I’m sorry,” Nick said, staring at his hands. “I should’ve gone after you that night and made sure you got back to the hotel. I didn’t think you’d want me to get involved. I thought Axel would be the best person to help you out, and they would’ve killed each other if I left them alone. I didn’t expect Cillian to keep drinking.”
“I accept your apology, but you couldn’t have known what would happen. We all agreed you’d never have to pick sides, to ensure our relationship wouldn’t get in the way of the band’s future. What happened wasn’t anyone’s fault.” She patted his shoulder, and he finally looked at her. She hated seeing him so torn up. “You were trying to protect me, and even if you’d told me, I don’t know how I would’ve reacted. Maybe I would’ve forgiven him or given him another chance. There’s no point in focusing on what could’ve been. Besides, I’m glad you sent Axel after me. Otherwise, I would’ve made an arse of myself in front of the press. Even if I hadn’t been there that morning, Cillian could’ve still driven the car.”
“I hate that Cillian put me in a position where I had to lie to you. I swear that he promised he was going to end it with her and tell you.” Nick dragged his hands through his fire-engine red hair, and she was amazed it didn’t get tangled in his rings.
“I believe you.”
