Page 1 of Real Rocks
1
Saff
Fingers gently stroked the back of my neck; a male voice encouraging me to relax and go with the feelings…
To loosen up, forget about everyone and everything…
You don’t need anything but me…
Just once more...
Then everything went black…
I sat bolt upright in bed, trying to quell the nausea which roiled in my stomach. It was the same dream I’d been having ever since the messages started a couple of weeks ago. Tris snored gently beside me, blissfully unaware of my restlessness.
I hadn’t told him about the bad dreams.
I hadn’t told him about the messages.
I didn’t want to think about what he might do if he knew who was sending them.
Trying not to wake him with my tossing and turning, I attempted to get back to sleep. After an hour of fruitless struggle, I gave up and slipped out of bed. I grabbed a hoodie from the door handle of my wardrobe, pulled it on and padded downstairs to the kitchen.
It was coming up to five in the morning, the sky slowly beginning to lighten. I lit a cigarette, the ritual already having a calming effect on me.
Tonight, was the launch party for TheSB’s new EP. Thanks to Jonas and the PR team’s hard work, we were hopeful of some minor success. We were unlikely to trouble the top twenty, but the single we’d released,Smoulder, had been getting airplay on a couple of the independent radio stations, meaning more people were hearing it. My stomach felt like I was at the top of a rollercoaster, about to tip over the edge and feel the wind rush through my hair as I gripped the safety bar. This would be a first where the music—rather than me—would be the focus. Still an occasional feature in the gossip columns, now it was because of my loved-up relationship with Tris, rather than falling out of clubs with some other Z-list celeb.
I hugged my knees to my chest and watched the smoke spiral up to the ceiling, my mind in overdrive once more.
The past six weeks had been a crazy whirlwind.
Me and the band had been in the studio, working hard to get the EP into shape, recorded and mastered. We’d also recorded a rough and ready video to go with the single, thanks to a videographer friend of Tommo’s who was looking for his first break. With everything going on, as well as working closely with Numb Records PR team, doing all the right interviews, the time had flown by, making the fateful night of the party a distant memory.
The party, where I’d lapsed horribly and taken A-class drugs, ending up in hospital, should have been a distant memory. But for two weeks, someone had constantly been reminding me on an almost daily basis of what I’d done, threatening to expose my behaviour.
My phone was in the pocket of my hoodie and I reached for it, my need to read the messages as strong as ever. I kind of liked torturing myself with them. I felt I deserved it. Tris couldn’t know.
The last thing I wanted was for him to end up in prison again just for protecting me.
So I simply hadn’t told him.
As I thought of him lying in bed upstairs, asleep, my heart contracted and I squeezed myself tighter.
Tris Judd. My protector. My saviour.
It had started as a business arrangement. A random idea cooked up by my cousin which ended with me falling in love. After a relationship—and I use that word loosely—history which could be described as chequered at best, I’d finally found someone I wanted forever with. No more random one-night-stands, or gossip fuelling hook-ups in clubs.
Tris stayed here most nights now and I was eternally grateful. When he wasn’t around, I was scared. Scared Carl would come around to the house and try to get me hooked on something.
I knew it sounded stupid. It did even in my own head.
With a hard breath, I punched in my passcode and tapped on the message icon. Although I probably should have deleted them, I didn’t want to. They were a reminder of the night when things got too dark, before making me realise what I needed to see the light again. I scrolled through, reading every word as they drove a knife through my stomach. The sick feeling intensified and I only just made it to the sink in time before I retched.
“Jesus, Saff. You’re not pregnant, are you?” Jonas’ voice came from behind me as I wiped my mouth and straightened up.
“Good God, no!” That was the last thing I needed right now. I was careful about taking my pill. While a relationship may have changed me, I wasn’t ready for kids. It took me back to a conversation with Tris’ aunt about settling down and having a family, a whole football team of children. An involuntary shudder shot down my spine.
I hadn’t told Jonas about the messages either. Even though with one click of his fingers, not to mention the backing of Numb’s legal department, he would have been able to make it disappear. I was too ashamed to tell him.
