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She shot me a concerned look. “You’re doing great. Let’s just take this one day at a time.”
“Can’t wait to get back to normal,” I huffed.
Except, what would my new normal be? Sober and clean would be a whole new ball game and I didn’t know if I could hack it.
“Axel and Phoenix are looking forward to hanging out with you, now you’re so much better.” Hayley’s mouth curved into a warm smile.
I stuck out my bottom lip. “Yeah. Whatever.”
Having mates ’round without enjoying booze was about as appealing as an audience with the Pope.
Golden sparks flashed in Yankee Girl’s amber irises. “They care about you.”
“I know,” I said, but still I wallowed in self-pity. “It will be like partying during prohibition.”
“You don’t need alcohol to have a good time,” she responded.
“Wine, women and song, the adage goes,” I shrugged. “At least I can still fuck and make music.”
Her heart-shaped face flushed. “Don’t you have any hobbies or play any sports?”
“I’m a musician. Playing music and rehearsing is my life. I exercise in the gym. Never had time for anything else.” I paused, shot her a look. “How about you?”
“Mountain biking. I love it.” She lifted her gaze. “I was thinking of collecting my bike from Dad’s place and exploring the trails around here while you were detoxing, but I didn’t think it appropriate…”
“Why not?”
She released a sigh. “I already took enough time off to visit with my father.”
Before I’d gone batshit crazy on the plane, she’d sat with me and told me about her dad’s condition. “How is he?”
“Worse.” Her brows drew together. “He’s forgotten I ever existed. Thinks I’m my mom.”
“Must be hard for you. Are you an only child?”
“I am. How about you? Any siblings?”
“Just a sister,” I said, and left it at that. No need to go into my family background. Not now. Not ever. It was something I avoided discussing at all cost. I paid my dad thousands a month so he wouldn’t sell my story to the gutter press. “Come on, Yankee Girl. We’re supposed to be swimming. Keeping active prevents me from shaking so much.”
“I’ll race you,” she suggested.
“You’re on.”
And, fuck me, she took off like a bat out of hell and beat me to the other end of the pool.
Later, after we’d gone up to our rooms to change, we met in the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of soda and a couple of glasses, and returned to the decking.
This was my favorite place in the house and my favorite part of the day. It was a world away from the tower block where I’d grown up in the East End of London. The totally sick view of LA spread below never failed to give me a buzz. I breathed in a long, slow breath and inhaled the sweet lavender incense of the pine trees to my left for what seemed like the first time ever. I hadn’t realized my sense of smell had been taken from me by booze. Maybe there were other advantages to being sober than keeping my place in the band. And I could still anaesthetize myself with sex.
I pulled the drumsticks from my back pocket and twirled them in my hands. “So, Yankee Girl.” I held her with my eyes. “There’s one thing I wanna get clear with you.”
“Oh?” she countered.
“I like to fuck. I like women and they like me. Even when I was wasted, I was good at it. Can’t wait to find out if laying off the booze has improved my performance.”
“I’m not gonna let you fuck me,” she said after a beat.
“I was kinda expecting you to say that.” I tapped the drumsticks against my thigh. “So, here’s the deal. If I can’t drink and take drugs, I can at least score some ass. Maybe not straight away. I mean, I only just got sober. But, when we go back on tour and hit the clubs after our concerts, I’ll be wanting to bring chicks back to my room.”
Her eyes widened, but her gaze held firm. “You don’t need my permission, buddy. My job is to make sure you stay away from alcohol, not women.” She appeared on the verge of saying something else but bit her lip instead.
We lapsed into silence as darkness fell. Rivers of lights twinkled in the city below us. I shot her a look, but she was staring into the distance, her arms folded across her enticing rack.Chapter 6HayleyI was dancing to ChiMera’s “Up the Beat,” earbuds plugged in while I made breakfast in Pierce’s amazing kitchen. Filled with expensive appliances, pristine white cabinets and a large island in the center, it wasn’t a sterile environment—spice racks and colorful pottery brought color to the otherwise functional look—and I enjoyed being in here.
I’d gotten into a routine since Carolyn had left two days ago, coming down from my room first thing in the morning to set out an array of fruit and cereals, switch on the coffee maker and make freshly squeezed orange juice. It was fine by me, Pierce and Joe always cleared up, and I loved the looks of appreciation on their faces when I made pancakes or French toast.
