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“Are you okay?” I asked. “You’re quiet today.”
Jason turned to me with a smile. “I’m fine. Thinking about the interview I have to do in…” he looked down at his watch. “forty minutes. Hey, driver, can you step on it?”
The cab driver nodded but there wasn’t much he could do with so many people trying to get out of the airport at once.
“Are you nervous?” I asked.
“No, but I’ve got to be careful not to slip up. I don’t know what they’ll ask. One mistake and this whole thing will be over.”
He drummed his fingers on his thigh.
“How are you playing this? Are you supposed to be the poor, misunderstood rock star whose big brother holds a grudge against him? Or are you meant to be angry and hell bent on revenge?”
“Misunderstood. We need to keep the interest high, but also get some sympathy, too. Since Drew revealed pretty much everything I’ve ever done, I get to play the ‘I’ve made mistakes but I’m so sorry’ card.”
“Are these your words or Derek’s?”
He grinned. “What do you think? This is his invention. We’re just his puppets.”
Jason might have been amused, but I couldn’t help wondering why Drew hadn’t been given the same level of “training” about how to play his interview. Actually, I didn’t need to guess. Similar to his place on stage when he performed, Drew got pushed to the back of Derek’s priorities. Jason was the star, and him not fluffing his lines was way more important in his eyes.
“You don’t have to be a puppet to be successful, you know?”
“Ellie, why do you hate this so much? Like I said the other day, all the drama is just a stepping stone to get us where we want to be.” He reached for my hand and held on tight. “This will be over before you know it.”
“Aren’t you worried? You know how long it’s taken for us all to move on. This will be painful for you and Drew. Especially for Drew.”
His eyes dulled and his shoulders slouched, making me feel guilty for robbing the sparkle from his good mood with the reminder of how badly he’d screwed up and how much Drew had done for him, but his concern passed in seconds and he smiled again. “I’m not worried, and you shouldn’t be either. This isn’t for you to worry about. I know you don’t want all this crap to blow up again. I don’t want that either, but we’re are stronger now. Stronger than we’ve been in a long time. We can handle it. Please don’t worry. Enjoy this with us.”
I wanted to. But then I remembered how angry Drew had gotten on TV and how tense he’d been since, and that second of doubt that flashed in Jason’s eyes.
This couldn’t end well. It couldn’t.
“Whassup, Ellie.”
“Hey, Mack.”
I glanced around the Glasgow club’s dressing room with interest. The club’s backstage area was a vast improvement on many of the other places Razes Hell had played. Anything more than a few chairs in the dressing room was considered a luxury, and this one had tea and coffee making facilities, a vacuumed carpet, and - bonus - it didn’t smell of vomit. Jason booted me out of the cab we’d shared before shooting off to his interview, and left me to navigate the unfamiliar venue alone. I’d found Mack and Joey - Razes Hell’s guitarists – on the floor with several pieces of paper scattered in front of them. They were in the process of figuring out which songs they wanted on their second album and which to put on the backburner or scrap completely. Watching them choose album tracks had an uncanny similarity to witnessing children fight over toys. Best to get out of the way before they started pulling each other’s hair.
“Is Drew around?” I hovered in the doorway so as not to intrude on their selection process.
“He stepped out for some air,” Joey said. “He won’t be long.”
Unusual. If work had to be done, he’d normally be with his band mates, getting on with the job. I headed out to search for him, blinking as the darkness of the dingy bar messed with my vision. Drew definitely hadn’t been out front when I arrived. The only people near the entrance were roadies and a group of fans huddled together against the biting wind. I spun around in a circle, and as if I’d performed some kind of Harry Potter-esque spell, Drew appeared, his large frame heading through the club towards me. A shiver ran across my skin as he approached in his ripped, faded jeans and a KISS t-shirt. He rubbed his exposed arms to warm them from the cold.
“Hi.” I kept my expression perfectly neutral, as if seeing him had no effect on me whatsoever, although my pet butterflies stirred again. “Where have you been?”
“Out the back taking a breather. Do you wanna grab a drink?”
I nodded and sat down on a barstool, idly wondering why these places had to be so bleak. Black walls, black floor, dimmed lights above the bar so you can barely see your money when you pay for drinks. Being squished against sweaty strangers is awkward enough, and I’d accidentally groped more than one while searching for my purse in the dark.
“Everything okay?” I asked, as Drew leaned over and pulled out two bottles of water from under the counter.
“Yup.” He handed one of the bottles to me.
His eyes told a different story. He hadn’t been himself since his television appearance. I heard the frustration in his voice when we spoke on the phone, and I saw it on his face now.
Drew gripped his bottle with a firmness that made me want to trade places with it. Instead of uncrewing the lid, he pulled at the label, his fingers tugging until it peeled away.
