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37
Dylan
Another nightwith Sky and the world lightens further off my shoulders. I wasn't happy she wanted to leave today, but I understand I need to back off. I saw in her eyes what she thinks about my world—and my place in it. I can do this, fix what's around me, and walk away. Persuade Sky we can make a go of this—help each other feel our way forward in life. I'll finish the album then tell Steve I'm not going on tour. Does Sky understand that she gives me the strength to do this— pulling me away from the hollow Dylan blindly following orders? I smile wryly. The one following orders by coming straight back here after taking her back to Bristol.
We use the recording studio at my estate, polishing what we recorded in the Abbey Road studios over the last few months. We're behind schedule for obvious reasons but we’re almost done. Daydreaming about Sky as the reason I'm late, I walk through the double doors into the studio area. The sound engineer Paul isn't around and voices carry through from the control room.
Jem lounges on the sofa in the area we set aside for the constant eating and drinking that takes place between tracks. One booted foot resting across his knee, Jem swigs straight from a bottle of Jack. I grab the bottle and slam it on the table in front of him. I don't want to spend all fucking day here waiting for him to sober enough to get this done.
"Stop being such a fucking cliché!" I snarl.
"Fuck you, lover boy." He picks the bottle back up, fixing me with a look I've seen a thousand times. I know from the past how well hidden his real state can be—Jem isn’t only drunk; he’s as high as a fucking kite.
"How the fuck do we put the rest of the tracks down if you turn up at the studio off your face?"
"Don't be such a fucking hypocrite. You pissed off for a week and slowed things down."
Biting back a retort, I walk into the control room. Bryn rests against the mixing desk with a murderous expression. Liam studies the laptop screen, flicking through the progress of the tracks, and Honey sits on his lap, tapping a text on her phone. I really don't need to see so much of her tits—or the rose she has tattooed on one.
"Did Jem arrive like this?" I ask.
"Don't think he slept," mutters Bryn.
"I know he's bad again recently but he's a fucking mess. And the way he spoke to Sky at the party..." Bryn and Liam glance at each other. "What?"
Honey disconnects herself from Liam and sits on the edge of the desk next to Bryn. "She reminds him of Lily."
"What the fuck? And what do you know about Lily?" I flash Liam a look and he shrugs apologetically.
Lily, the groupie who wasn't. The girl from the darkest part of my past. We were off our faces that night and Jem made the biggest mistake of our lives. A week later, I made things a thousand times fucking worse by trying to fix the situation. The aftermath threatened the band until Steve made everything go away.
Jem and me have known each other since primary school, shared our hopes and dreams, and navigated this fucked up journey together. Lily changed things between us and we lost each other. What stories are out there for Sky to find? Unless Jem tells her everything, nothing she reads will make sense. Three years on and the whole mess is a fading bad memory. Only we know the truth.
Sky is nothing like Lily; this situation is completely different.
"Has Jem seen Lily again or something?"
Liam snorts. "Do you think I'd ever bring her name up?" He pauses. "You know what the whole fucked up mess did to him, and how he doesn't want girls like her coming into the circle."
"’Girls like her’?"
"Sweet, innocent but with a huge fucking knife ready to stab in your back. You should know," says Liam
I shake away memories I don't want. "If you knew Sky, you'd know how wrong you are."
"So she's not sweet and innocent?" drawls Honey, smirking.
"She's not an eighteen-year-old school kid!" I snap.
Something hard slams into my back and I stagger forward, catching the mixing desk to steady myself. Jem grabs me by the T-shirt and yanks me backwards. I spin around. Bad timing. His fist collides with my nose, pain splitting across my face and I stagger. Honey shrieks, hands at her mouth as she looks at me slumped against the wall. Jem's a good shot even when he's high; I'll give him that.
Bryn grabs Jem from behind, pinning his hands to his sides. "Don't be a dickhead, Jem."
Breathing heavily, Jem stares down at me as I hold my palm against my mouth. "That night was your fault. You were playing the fucking game too. So you're responsible for every fucking thing that happened afterwards."
Itching to retaliate, I remain slumped, not wanting to fight with him. "Not everything, Jem. You dealt with things in the wrong way."
Holding his face close to mine, the bourbon from his breath is enough to make me drunk on the fumes. "Well, if you don't fuck things up with Sky, I will. I fucking owe you one."
