Page 43 of Not Another Rockstar
“What was that?” Nick asked, looking between them.
“Nothing.” they said in unison.
Nick frowned, but luckily Anita coming in distracted him.
“Phoebe, nice to see you are up and about, but we were in the middle of something,” Anita said, picking up a green smoothie from the counter that looked like freshly mown grass.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Phoebe said. The atmosphere felt strained, now Anita was back. “I can take my food back to my room.”
“No, you should stay. You should have a say in this as well,” Nick said, and Axel suddenly walked out of the kitchen.
“Axel! We aren’t finished discussing the concert!” Anita called after him.
“What concert?” Phoebe asked. Wasn’t it too early to be thinking about performing again?
“I’m coming back!” Axel shouted down the hall, and Anita turned a shade of stressed-induced purple.
“I don’t know how we could perform without Cillian, and it’s far too soon to replace him,” Nick argued. “The fans would be furious. Axel replaced our last drummer, but that was a completely different situation.”
“No one is talking about replacing Cillian,” Anita said. “You could fill in. You are one of the original members, and the fans will respect your decision to lead.”
“Do you want to sing lead?” Phoebe asked her brother, not caring what the label or Anita wanted.
“I don’t have much choice, none of us want to disband,” Nick explained.
Phoebe’s gut churned; disbanding felt like another death.
“We certainly aren’t considering disbanding,” Anita countered. “The label thinks a concert in honour of Cillian’s passing would help calm the situation. Give the fans something to focus on and look forward to. With all the bad press recently, we could all use a boost of positivity.”
“It’s only been a couple of months?” Phoebe said. “Isn’t it a bit soon?”
“The concert wouldn’t be for another few months,” Anita said, clearly having already talked it over with the label since she was pushing it so hard. “No one is asking for miracles. It’s just a small concert, twenty thousand tops, to commemorate Cillian’s memory and give the media something to chew on.”
“Are you sure you’re ready for that?” Phoebe asked August and Nick, who didn’t look enthused by the idea. Phoebe sat at the table by August, who offered her a weak smile.
“The concert would be a nice way to honour him, but that’s not the whole proposal,” Nick said, crossing his arms.
“They want another album,” Axel said, returning.
Phoebe choked on her pancakes when she saw her notebook in his hand. August slapped her back, but it wasn’t food caught in her throat.
Nick downed his orange juice. “An album we don’t have because Cillian didn’t finish, or if he did, we can’t find any trace of it.”
“The album shouldn’t be a problem.” Axel placed the purple notebook on the island in front of everyone.
Phoebe wanted the tiled floor to open and swallow her. Axel glanced at her as she shook her head, begging him not to say anything. She couldn’t believe he hadn’t talked to her about this first. August got the notebook before she did, flipping through the pages. His scowl confirmed his suspicions.
“This isn’t Cillian’s handwriting.” August stared at the lyrics of a song on their last album. Phoebe couldn’t meet his eye. Nick stared over August’s shoulder, and she knew he would recognise her handwriting; she had a childish habit of putting circles on her i’s.
“Care to explain?” Anita asked, tapping her foot impatiently.
“I think Phoebe is the only one who can,” Axel said, not giving her an out.
She wished she’d never got out of bed that morning. However, her conscience told her she had to face the music at some point. Axel had given her weeks, but she’d kept putting it off, and now they were out of time.
“We wrote them together,” Phoebe admitted.
“You’ve been writing our songs?” Nick stammered.
