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Chapter 3
Teagan slammed out the final few measures of the song, and then, for fun, let his sticks roll on the snare. Fiona’s joyful laugh was a worthy reward for his shenanigans.
Sweat coated his shirtless chest, and when he swiped his hands through his spikey hair, more droplets went flying.
“Bloody brilliant, Fi,” he said before chugging down half a bottle of water.
With her soulful sound and mesmerizing stage presence, Fiona Flynn had impressed Teag back when they were first-year students at Berklee. Now that she’d grown into her talent, she was a powerhouse, her voice praised by fans and industry professionals alike for its style and range. Teag loved making music with her and with the rest of the band. It never got old.
“Good night, Tokyo!” he said standing behind his kit and throwing his arms in the air. His version of a victory salute.
Everyone laughed, since they weren’t actually in Tokyo, but rather the practice studio in Fiona’s basement.
“Next time,” Fiona promised, wiping her face with a towel.
“Nah, it’s all good,” he said. “I like our schedule.”
The last tour they’d done had been grueling. They’d traveled the world but had basically spent all their time inside a hotel room, or on a bus, plane, or stage. He wasn’t complaining. He really did get to stand up behind his kit and yell, “Goodnight, Tokyo!” while he was in Tokyo. Not too shabby.
This time, they’d be traveling for only eight weeks, and they were sticking to the US. Fiona had taken to motherhood like a duck to water and didn’t want to create chaos in her daughter’s world. Privately, she’d also confided to Teag that she and Jake wanted to get pregnant again right after the tour.
Fiona’s restriction on their schedule could have been detrimental to the band as a whole, but instead they were in even higher demand because of it. They were also free to work on individual projects, time permitting. Fiona was currently the voice of some Disney princess, and Teag laid down rhythm tracks for a few of his favorite studio bands.
He wiped himself down with a towel and pulled his threadbare Red Sox t-shirt over his head. Although an obvious transplant to Boston, over the years he’d become a baseball aficionado, and with a little coaxing from Fi, a loyal season-ticket-holding Sox fan.
“I’ll be back at six,” he said, pointing at Fiona.
Teag high-fived Diego, the bass player, and jogged out to his McLaren Spider. The early summer breeze kissed Teag’s overheated skin. He’d put the top down earlier, and when he hit the ignition, Zeppelin blasted from the speakers. Grinning, he headed to his place in the city to clean up and eat.
His top-floor brownstone sported, among other things, high ceilings, gleaming wood floors, granite countertops in the kitchen, and two Jacuzzi tubs, one in the master bath and one on the roof. Teag spent a lot of time on his private rooftop in the summer and fall. Looking out over his adopted city from that height, he felt like he belonged, like he’d accomplished something with his life. It was one of the only places where he could sit quietly alone with his own thoughts and feel at peace. Usually, he hated to be alone, but this place had turned into something of a haven for him.
Once he’d finished showering and warmed up yesterday’s takeout, he grabbed his phone and headed to the roof to call his mum. He’d convinced her to move stateside from their home in Melbourne, but he couldn’t get her to up to the Northeast. She’d made it quite clear that living through a cold, snowy New England winter was not on her bucket list. She’d read all about retirement communities in Florida, and when Teague offered to buy her a house anywhere in the world, that’s where she wanted to go. At least they were in the same time zone.
Although too young to be considered a retiree, she’d busted her ass as a single mom to Teag and his little sister for too damn long. Once Teag had made more money than God, she’d reluctantly allowed him to ease her financial burdens, although she’d still found herself a part-time job at a local flower shop. She couldn’t be expected to sit home all day and twiddle her thumbs, after all.
When she answered the phone out of breath, Teag laughed. “What are you doing now, mum? Running a marathon?”
“Don’t be cheeky. I’ve that 5k challenge coming up, and I refuse to cross the finish line last.”
“Right, of course, and good luck with that,” he said. “So, you know I’ll be leaving in a week for the tour.”
“Of course, I bloody know it. It’s on my calendar.”
Teag shook his head, grinning as he pictured his mom speed-walking through her neighborhood.
“All right, mum. I just wanted to check in. I’ve got your backstage passes for the Orlando show.”
“Thank you, sweetie. I’m looking forward to it. Have you talked to your sister yet?”
“No, but she’s coming down this weekend.”
Teag’s sister, Annabelle, only lived ninety minutes away. She’d started at Rhode Island School of Design the year after he graduated from Berklee. The band hadn’t hit it big yet back then, but once they did, Teag had paid off her student loans. Stubborn as a mule, she wouldn’t take a dime from him to help cover living expenses.
It drove him nuts that she’d waited tables for two years while launching her own business as a graphic designer. He could have helped her out, given her some start-up money, but she wanted to make it on her own and not leech off her big brother’s fame as she’d said to him on more than one occasion. The women in his life were definitely feisty and independent.
He finished the call, shoveled down the rest of his leftover chicken cacciatore, and checked the time. He had a couple of hours before babysitting duty at Fiona’s, so he headed into his studio.
The small space had excellent natural light and a stunning view of the Charles River. Like his sister, Teag was a competent visual artist, but unlike Annabelle, he was a much, much better musician than painter. Still, when he needed to quiet his body and mind, mixing colors on a canvas did the job.
