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34
February 28th (New York City, NY)
Dylan
Steve hoversby the window of the hotel boardroom, staring out at the Manhattan skyline. I’m half-asleep, hauled in here before I had a chance to eat. I’m feeling like shit today anyway. Towards the end of a tour, I always get sick, which pisses me off because it’s a huge fucking problem when you’re the singer and your voice is screwed by flu. A wide-eyed PA intern, a girl who looks way too young to be with us, tells me something happened and I need to see Steve immediately. Panicked that this could be Sky related, I go straight to him.
“What’s happening?” I ask the moment I walk into the room.
He turns. Steve usually looks tired this far into a tour, but today he looks worse. He runs a hand across his greying hair. “Shit’s about to hit the fan, Dylan.”
“What’s happened?” I repeat, mind running through scenarios. “Has something happened to Sky? Or Jem?”
He huffs. “No. Remember Lily Parker?”Oh, fuck.“Yeah, well she’s gone to the police about that little situation you guys had.”
Stunned into silence, I lower myself into one of the leather chairs around the mahogany table. The day started badly enough waking up without Sky—and now this.
“Why would Lily do that?”
“Who knows, but she did.”
Sky. The media will be swarming over her. “I need to go back to the UK.”
Steve laughs a short bitter sound. “Sure, but just so you know you’ll be arrested the minute you step off the plane.”
Fucking hell.The reality washes over me as I struggle to cope with the news. My body flows with anger and fear and all I want now is to talk to Sky. “I don’t care! I need to sort this out!”
“Don’t be an idiot.”
“Steve, Sky needed me last week, and I stayed here. Now she really fucking needs me.”And I need her.“She’s on her own over there—wait until the press gets hold of this.”
“No, Dylan. Don’t do anything until I’ve spoken to people and gauged how plausible Lily’s story is and what’s happening.”
Dragging my fingers down my face, I retreat to three years ago in my mind. “The story isn’t fucking true! Why? After all this time? I thought you sorted this back then!”
“Maybe you should’ve been more careful which girls you stuck your dick in,” he retorts.
His words are a slap, reminding me of the person I was. I’d used the same phrase myself back then—my respect for women was zero. Not now.
“Fuck you!”
I stand, throwing back the chair. I’m not staying here for a lecture; I’m over taking that shit from Steve. I burst out of the door, back along the thick, carpeted hallway to my room. Luckily, the Blue Phoenix entourage has a whole floor at the top of the hotel because I think I’m going to be holed up for a while.
I slam my suite door behind me, and stand with my head against the smooth, painted wood attempting to ground myself. Why? Why can’t the past stay where it belongs?
Grabbing my phone from the bedside table, I sink onto the bed and dial Sky’s number. Sky answers within two rings.
“Dylan.”
“Are you okay?” I ask gently. “Is the press causing problems?”
“No.” Her tiny voice reminds me of the lost Sky from Christmas. “I was going to call you. It’s Lily, she…”
“I know. Steve told me a few minutes ago.”
“I don’t understand. Why did she do this?”
“Do you believe her?” I ask, terrified of her answer.
