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16
Dylan
I sleepin the bed Sky slept in the night before, the scent of her driving me to distraction. Her strawberry hair scents the pillow, the sheets covering me once covered her and I imagine her curves imprinted on them and covering me. If I were certain I wouldn’t get a slap, I’d attempt to climb into my bed with her.
We sat together last night, and I fought with myself not to replicate the night on the sofa at the beach house in the summer. Or the kitchen. Or afterwards. Sky was on edge after the encounter with Jem, startling at any noise. There’s no way she’d respond well to any attempt by me to get my hands on her. I’m scared of frightening her away when I’m on the edge of getting her back. I need to wait.
Fucking Jem ruining this because I had to help him. I couldn’t drive past and leave him in a situation where he could get arrested—or wind up in the hospital. Now he owes me for getting Steve off his back, he’ll have to agree to talk. He needs to explain to Sky why he went to Lily and asked her to talk to Sky, and confirm to Sky that I’m telling the truth.
After discussing the future with Sky, my mind turned back to the situation with the band—we need to get together and talk without Steve. Perhaps then I won’t have to walk away permanently; we could plan time apart and not end Blue Phoenix. I think Steve has caught on to my plans—he saw me talking to Bryn. Now he’s taken steps to ensure the band stays apart or that he’s around when we’re together. Separate rooms, staff around all the time, and the continuing divide between Jem and me prevent any opportunity to discuss a future outside of the current world. I told Bryn, I can’t go on like this. We take control or I lose mine completely. I haven’t confided in anyone else, only Myf, and now she knows the full extent of my fucked up head, she’s threatening to interfere.
Sky isn’t around, presumably still asleep, when I wander to the back of the house. 10 A.M. Jem is slumped in one of the armchairs, also asleep, glass in hand and I watch him for a few moments. I don’t have the energy to give him what he needs; I lost the ability to do that long ago when his life would suck the energy from me. Jem is empty, filling his soul with drugs and alcohol because he has no one. How did we get here from being inseparable most of our lives? I hated him for months after what he did to Sky and me, but what’s the point? He’s a pathetic mess.
I poke him with my bare foot. “Sleeping beauty, wake up.”
He starts and almost drops the glass, before blinking at me and groaning. “What?”
The bleary face and bloodshot eyes age him; the swollen mouth from the punch last night adds to the vision of fucked-up rock star.
“How’s your face?”
He touches the bruised lip and winces. “Was that you?”
“No. You’ve some grovelling to do to Steve. Fighting outside nightclubs, you dick.”
I walk away to the kitchen and Jem, surrounded by a cloud of stale booze, follows. “Shit,” he says.
“Yeah, you owe me. I dragged you out before the police arrived and you ended up in a cell.”
“Steve knows?”
“Yeah, thank Sky for talking him down.”
Jem rubs his eye with the heel of his palm. “Sky? When was she back on the scene?”
“Shit, Jem. Don’t you remember anything about last night?”
“Up to a certain point, yeah.”
Turning to the coffee machine, I root around in the cupboard for beans, hoping Myf hasn’t used them all. She has a habit of using all my food and not replacing anything.
“You seriously think I’ll talk to you about Sky?” I say, not looking back round.
“I apologised, man. I shouldn’t have spoken to Lily.”
We had this conversation once before, the week after I arrived in LA for the tour. The press nearly had the Blue Phoenix story of the year; I was close to putting the dickhead in hospital for contacting Lily and fucking up the best thing that’s happened to me in years. The biggest insult, he said he couldn’t remember contacting Lily. Later, Jem admitted he did remember. I wouldn’t call admitting to contacting her an apology, but this prevented me bringing myself to his level and punching him.
Beans located, I switch the machine on and turn back to Jem. “I told Sky the story about Lily; I want you to tell her your side.”
He makes a derisive noise. “Why should I do that?”
“Because it’s time we put this to rest, Jem. Three years ago and look at this. Give me a fucking break.”
Jem’s semi-sober state allows him to register some of what I’m saying, but I don’t think he’s ready to hear the truth. Instead, he regards me silently.
“Let go of the anger, Jem. Sort yourself out before you fucking kill yourself.”
“I’m okay as I am.”
