Page 63 of Not Another Rockstar
“God, I’m starving.”
Phoebe’s grumbling stomach forced her out of bed. The sun beaming in through the sheer curtains reminded her of their plans to spend their last day at the beach.
The second skin masked her new ink in the bathroom mirror, and as much as she wanted to peel it off, she’d have to wait another twenty-four hours before she’d get to see it properly.
After a quick shower, she’d just finished drying her hair when she heard knocking. She’d figured Rowena might stop by. She tossed on a pair of denim shorts and Axel’s T-shirt from the bedroom floor and she started to head downstairs, but froze at the top of the staircase when she saw Anita thrusting a tabloid into Axel’s chest. What the hell was she doing here?
“Are you out of your mind? Coming here and letting yourselves be photographed on a cosy night on the town?” Anita snapped, storming through the front door.
“Nice to see you too, Anita, please come in.”
“Read this. There’s going to be nothing nice about this visit.”
‘“Brothers of Anarchy’s deranged fan sends a box of razor blades to the ex-girlfriend of the late Cillian Hunt after she moves into the house with remaining members.’”
Phoebe’s stomach dropped listening to Axel read the cover. She waited for him to follow Anita into the kitchen before tiptoeing down the stairs to listen in.
“Where’s Phoebe? She needs to be a part of this,” Anita barked.
“She’s upstairs, sleeping. I’ll tell her when she wakes up,” Axel said. “Why is confronting her important? Phoebe didn’t leak this to the press. She was scared and didn’t want us to overreact. You told her to lie low, but even leaving the country didn’t even make a difference.”
Axel’s defence of her only made her fall harder.
I was right—the media could’ve only found out if the person who sent the package leaked it themselves.Phoebe shook her head in disbelief. She’d hidden the evidence in the recycling bin, and that was sure to be long gone now.I should go out and explain,she thought, but she tugged at the hem of Axel’s T-shirt. Anita would have a heart attack if she realised they were together.
“Lie low?” Anita scoffed and pulled out her phone. “I think you’re trying to make my job difficult. Having dinner at a romantic restaurant, in public? The paps got some cosy shots of the two of you. You’ve gone viral! If I left my alerts on, my phone would explode.”
Phoebe heard Axel pacing. “It isn’t any of your business what we do or where we go. If the media want to take pictures oftwo people having dinner, then let them. We shouldn’t have to hide,” he countered. “We’ve done nothing wrong, and acting like criminals is going to make us all look like we’ve something to hide.”
“In the court of public opinion, giving your dead bandmate’s ex and best friend’s sister smouldering stares during a candlelight dinner will get us all crucified. To top it off, you ran off hand in hand.”
“She was wearing heels; I didn’t want her to fall.” Axel’s joke made Phoebe wince.
“After everything I’ve done for you, why must you sabotage us like this?” Anita snarled.
“I thought you’d be happy. The increased press coverage will mean more ticket sales for the remembrance concert you pushed so hard for.”
“Or the fans will boycott said concert because you’re disrespecting your recently deceased friend by shacking up with his girlfriend.”
Phoebe couldn’t bear to listen any longer. She didn’t regret anything about their trip. Why should she consider Cillian’s feelings in death when his pregnant girlfriend was currently moving into his apartment in New York? With Axel, she felt truly wanted without being asked for anything in return, and she refused to feel guilty about it.
“You’re crossing the line. Go home. We don’t need to be managed,” Axel said coolly.
Phoebe hurried up the stairs when she heard footsteps approach.
“If you were, maybe we wouldn’t have ended up in this position,” Anita argued, reaching the door. “Also, the police came by the house. They were curious to know why you’d both left during the investigation. And that there was no evidence of another person at the studio except for you and her.”
No evidence. She wasn’t surprised—Sheen had worn gloves in the video—but did the police think she’d made it up? Phoebe wished she’d given them the footage. Then again, she shouldn’t have to fight to be believed.
Axel muttered a curse under his breath. “Are you accusing us of something?”
Not wanting to hear any more, Phoebe hurried back upstairs. She wondered if she’d been hoping for too much, for one weekend with the man who was slowly healing her heart.
In the bedroom, Axel’s phone rang.Autumn. She recognised his cousin’s name, a famous concert pianist, who no doubt was calling about his name being all over the internet once again.
She picked up the phone.
“Axel?” Autumn asked.
