Page 25 of Thick as Thieves
Fucking no way. He’s going to tell me to keep the fuck away from his mother. My panic is gripping my stomach. My breathing picking up.
“James, look?—”
He holds his hand up to me and I have a vision of him doing the same to Gabe last year. Oh My God. No, No, No, Please don’t say it. I’m looking at him, my heart pounding in my chest, my eyes pleading with him not to ask me to give them up before I’ve even had a chance to love them like I want to.
But then he smiles, and it’s as if the sun has just come from behind the clouds. “Ye of little faith. Really Uncle Xan? Or should I call you Papa now?” He stops and is intently regarding me, so like Jonno, gauging my reactions. “I can hardly call you Dad or Daddy, don’t you think?”
My brain is totally fried. I look at this kid, this utterly amazing kid, who even though I only met him a year ago, I feel like he is part of me. I’m speechless.
“A word of advice, though. Ask. Don’t fuck around and don’t let my dad have any great ideas, he has none. Just ask her. She’ll say yes or no, and then you’ll know once and for all.” He stands tall, managing to be imposing even with a baby in his arms. “I support her in whatever decision she makes, one hundred percent. I know you love her, are in love with her, and I know Dad loves her. But, please, for all your sakes, just ask her. Don’t plot, don’t plan.Ask.”
He pulls me in for a hug. Well, as best he can with us both holding babies. “I’ll tell my idiot father the same.” His voice changes from a little jokey to completely serious. “But you need to be sure, because she’ll get all the shit, not you two. You know how these things go.” Concern is etched on his face, but it’s concern for his mum, not himself. “So please be really sure. No messing around.” He whispers that last bit in my ear before pushing back and kissing me on the cheek.
“See, easy Papa, wasn’t it, when you communicate.” Grinning, he looks down at the baby in his arms. “Be sure for these two as well.”
And with that, he walks back into the suite, taking one of my sons with him.
Marcus has been watching us, and as I wipe away a tear from my eye, he gets a full panic on his face. He looks at James in horror and the little shit blows him a kiss. Walking up to him, James pulls his dad in for a hug, manoeuvring the baby between them. I can see his lips moving. Clearly Marcus is getting the same pep talk.
Two grown men, humbled by a nineteen-year-old kid, who I think has led a sheltered life in some ways but a worldly one in others.
Can this really happen?
I hear a whimper and look down at the boy in my arms, his eyes so like Evie’s, I melt on the spot. I have to be sure. These innocents could get hurt by me, my wants and desires. But I am a man in love, totally and utterly in love, and I know I will protect them until my last breath.
Tim knockson our door with Nev and Debs in tow. They’re followed in by Bucky, Fin, and Nicci. Marcus and I are seated with James, and I see Evie’s lip curl at Debs and Nev as she gives the twins to Betty. Oh, boy. Blood may be spilt at this rate. She crosses to sit with Bucky and I see him take her hand.
Tim starts the conversation. “James, you asked everyone here. What’s going on?”
”Before we start anything, I need you to know, Tim, that we as a band love the touring. We love the music we’re playing, and I’ve spoken to the finance guys and they’ve told me the numbers look really good.”
I can’t hide my smirk. Only James would be armed with details like that. If Nev thinks he’s dealing with a normal nineteen-year-old, he is going to find out really fast, he isn’t.
“But,” he goes on, “I don’t like the shit that’s being posted about Bucky and Nicci. I also don’t see why I’m being portrayed as a dumb as shit model type, and Fin as some drunk. Every photo of him has a drink in it. We’re not ‘bad boys’, we don't have to trade off that. It’s not a strategy that came up at the meetings about this tour. As far as we knew, we were seeing how the music played out. Fair enough, I’ll rip off my shirt, but it’s fucking hot. I like the eyeliner.” He smirks at the lads at that. “But if I want to cut my hair, I will. And I do not want to be photographed at this stage in some fucking uber ridiculous outfit for the sake of ‘fashion’.”
He then turns to Bucky. “Do you want to say anything, Bucky, or shall I go on?”
“No, I’ll speak for myself, brother.” Bucky, normally jokey and impassive, turns his dark eyes onto Debs. His glare could cut glass. His voice nearly a growl. “I’m not some fuck-up. And fair enough, I like to let off steam in clubs and am up for a laugh. But for you to film me out of my mind and post it? That shit ain’t right. You’re supposed to be supporting us, not exploiting us.”
“Same for me,” Fin piles on. “My mother thinks I’m an alky thanks to your posting, Debs. Can you stop? Post some good shots, maybe of me playing my guitar. At least I won’t have a drink in my hand then.”
“I’ve fucked up, I know,” Nicci offers. “I’ll try to be better.” He then sits back.
Then the big guns start. “Are you the manager?” Evie asks Nev. “Who appointed you? I thought it was Cameron.” She looks at Tim. “We agreed and signed off on Cam.” I smile inwardly at the intensity she’s hitting Tim and his team with.
“We appointed Nev for the tour, as Cameron’s wife was ill, but he’s overseeing stuff from the UK.”
“So he’s agreed to all this crap?” she raps out at Tim.
“No,” says Tim calmly, shaking his head. “Nev, do you want to run us through your thoughts and strategy for the band and tour, and what was authorised?”
Nev is now looking very uncomfortable with the lads and Evie staring daggers at him. “The label wants headlines. Half the antics have been real, a few we’ve manufactured, but most are real.”
James snorts.
“James, you’ve been in this business two minutes. I’ve been around for years. You need to cultivate interest.” Nev is trying to impress wisdom into the young lads.
“Are we not interesting enough, then?” He stands, turning to face Nev down now. “My Dads are here.” He points to us both. Spinning round, he points at Evie. “My mother is the mother of twins to a fucking rock star.” And then he goes on, “We hardly need to manufacture headlines. If you did your jobs, you could utilise all that. It’s all out there already.” He smirks at Bucky, his hands on his hips. “And to top it off, we have Marshall and we own Pinky the fucking pony, who has more followers than you, Dad.” The lads all start to laugh.
