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Nine MonthsEarlier
I knewthis full-blown American tour was a bad idea. I knew it. He might think he can fool the public, his band or even his little sister but he can’t fool me. My beautiful broken prince. When the news hit five months ago of his mum’s accident, I guess the lines really started blurring for Max and me. There’s always been this spark between us. If we were honest with each other, we both know the other one is interested.
Well, I suppose I’m intrigued, and I think he’s curious.
But the dedication to both of our careers has always won over the possibility of any type of relationship between us even if our hands and lips have both brushed on very rare occasions.
But like they should, our careers took providence.
But after Sarah died, I felt I needed to give him more. We spent hour after hour curled up on the sofa at his mum’s house in Croydon. Listening to music, watching movies with his sister Cassy. Just hanging out. A hell of a lot more than a manager should do with the lead singer of the band she manages. But there was a need inside me to protect him. I know what it’s like to lose a parent. My dad died of a drug overdose and it’s in no way the same as being in a car accident, but the shock is the same.
“What are you thinking in that head of yours Max Baines?” I ask tentatively from the downtown San Diego bar booth we’re both holed up in. I reach a finger out towards him and run it slowly down his cheek as a soft, sad smile covers his lips.
“I don’t know Ali, I barely feel like I’m surviving let alone living. There are hundreds of thousands of people screaming our names every night on this tour, that made me feel like a king amongst men before, like their saviour. Each one meant the world to me, that they were there and singing our songs, wearing our merch. But they all blur into one now.” He says sadly. “I feel so un fucking grateful that I’m not even paying the slightest bit of attention to them. I’m like some faceless obedient mess of the guy I used to be before.”
“Max.” I whisper his name.
“Ali, you know I can’t bear it when people feel sorry for me, especially not you.” He says sadly.
“I know, I just appreciate how fucking hard this tour is for you.”
He nods, in some form of agreement. I’m not sure he’s admitted that to anybody but me in his life.
“And, please don’t tell me it’s okay to not be okay or any of that wall sticker shit! Ali, I don’t know how much of this I’d be able to cope with, without you here breathing life back into me.”
“Pretty sure you’re dressing room this tour has been like a revolving door of drug dealers and groupies. None of them make you just the slightest bit happy?”
“Really?” He says, I’m not sure if the shock in his voice is mockery or not.
“Yeah, really.”
“It’s circumstantial. A service that is provided and I’m expected to partake in. None of it means anything to me, you know that.”
I nod. In some fucked up way, it’s a rock stars prerogative to get lost in a world of loose women and narcotics.
“Just promise me something?” I hear the pleading in my voice as he leans back in the leather booth and fixes me with an intense stare from his brooding hazel eyes.
“Anything.” The sincerity in his voice has goosebumps covering my exposed arms.
“No Smack.”
“You know that’s the one thing I don’t touch.” He promises me, and I believe him. I really do. Max is a rock star, he’s the biggest and the best of the lot. But he’s not a junkie and more importantly he’s not a fucking idiot. Heroin is not on his radar.
“I thought you were going to warn me to stop sleeping around like you did on our first tour.” He lets out a laugh, to diffuse the tension of the conversation. He’s always been good at doing that. I smile at him, it’s a weak smile but it’s all for him and he knows it.
“I think what I told you is if you keep fucking random nameless chicks without wrapping your cock up that it might fall off.” I laugh.
“Yes, those are the exact words you used, yes.”
“But did you listen, no you fucking didn’t.”
“Yeah, I did, well a little. The more famous you are the more particular you can be, see.” He cocks his eyebrow at me.
“Is that so?”
“Yeah, I reckon it is.” He says with a smirk.
“And has your dick fallen off yet?”
