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1
LISBON,PORTUGAL
TEGAN
My sour-faced brother stands in the doorway of his hotel room, arms crossed. The rock star in his uniform of scruffy T-shirt and black jeans, a canvas of ink covering his muscled arms regards me from beneath his curled hair. Unimpressed.
“What the actual fuck, Tegan?” growls Bryn. “Where did you come from?”
I flash him a smile. “London.”
“Yeah, I know where you live, but why the hell are you here?” His heavy brow tugs lower.
“Because this is where the taxi brought me from the airport,” I say breezily. “Nice that you're kicking the tour off in Portugal, I haven't seen much of Europe yet.”
Six years older than me, Bryn left town when I was ten, launched into the stratosphere with Blue Phoenix. On the day he left, Bryn promised my teary, snotty-faced self that one day I could join him and tour with the band.
Guess what day it is today?
Bryn composes himself, steps back, and opens the door wider. “Get in here.”
“Sure! Grab my bag.” I indicate my well-travelled rucksack, tiptoe to plant a kiss on his stubbled cheek, and head inside the air-conditioned room.
A muttering Bryn follows me into his suite. My last travels involved backpacker hostels: bunk beds in shoebox-sized rooms and grotty, shared bathroom facilities of a basic nature. Bryn's accommodation is a hotel suite the size of the small apartment I share with Phoebe. Well, technically I crashed on her sofa several weeks ago and haven't moved on.
Bryn forgets I travelled across Asia on my own, and chooses to ignore the lesson he learned when we were growing up: my big brother doesn't tell me what to do. In fact, anybody who tries to will discover I’m not a delicate pushover, however young I look for my twenty years.
I perch on the blue couch, sinking into the plush cushions and continue to smile sweetly as Bryn half-throws my rucksack across the room.
This is the mountain-sized guy people at school were scared of, but they never knew he’d go home and have tea parties with his kid sister and her dolls.
“So, you forgot to buy my plane ticket and book my room, didn't you?” I ask.
“I told you, touring with us is a bad idea.”
“Yeah, but you never gave a reason.”
“Apart from I don't want my baby sister on a Blue Phoenix tour!”
“Don't be ridiculous, I'm not a kid.” I shift and remove my phone from the back pocket of my jeans and check for messages. “Plus, you guys are tame these days.”
Bryn continues to hover by the closed door. “Yeah we are, but there’re plenty around who aren't. Some of the tour crew don't do this for the pay; they do it for the perks.”
I screw my nose up. “I haven't come here to be ‘the perks’. I’ll pull my weight. Give me something to do to help out with the tour, and I’ll do it.”
“Like what, Tegan?”
“I don’t know… anything. Find me something Blue Phoenix needs help with, or ask if Ruby Riot needs a bodyguard. Lots of girls want their hands on Jax. Dylan needs to watch his ‘king of the rock stars’ crown.”
Dylan, the lead singer of Blue Phoenix and the man who topped numerous ‘World’s Hottest Men’ lists over the past few years recently married. Now the world’s scrutiny shifted elsewhere – to the Ruby Riot guitarist, Jax Lewis.
“What?” Bryn misses my teasing tone. “Jax? You want to get close to Ruby Riot, don't you?”
Seriously? Seven years a rock star and Bryn thinks everything is about sex.
“I was joking! Do I look like I could hold a horde of salivating girls off the pretty-boy rock star?”
Bryn continues to regard me with suspicion and I sigh. “Is there anything to drink?” Before he can give his indignant response, I add, “Water. I'm tired after the trip. I'm not a big drinker.”
