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DION
The place was grimy. Bare brick walls had been painted black, no doubt to hide the filth and God knows what else had splattered up them over the years. It was as far removed from the lavish stadium tour we had finished six months ago as anything could get. And I loved it. Here I was in my element because it was in places like this that I could relax and truly be me. I didn’t have to put on any airs and graces. I didn’t have to be polite to every single adoring fan who demanded my time and attention.
In bars like the Wooden Spoon, I could simply be Dion Granger. Fucked up rockstar extraordinaire.
And I had fucked up a lot in the last six months. I was still messing up almost daily. Not that anyone said anything. Not since my manager had called me into his office and called me a fucking liability after not one, but two gigs pulled out of using me. My band mates had other, much less polite words for me, and I couldn’t blame them for a single one. I’d found my way to sober, with the help of Elodie, but it just so happened I was a cantankerous son of a bitch without a drink inside of me.
Who knew? It seemed I didn’t have a personality without the rock and roll lifestyle. All I had was anger and bitterness. I was ok with that; I’d made my peace with it. It was just everyone else that seemed to have a problem with my new ‘attitude’.
“Don’t spoil this for Elodie and Jax tonight.”
At my right elbow, Louis shifted. To any casual passer–by, he might have looked uncomfortable sitting next to me, but I knew differently. Nothing ever bothered the latest member of Dionysus Rising. Even though he had been playing with us for less than a year, he was a member of the band. A pretty solid member. I liked the tattooed drummer, and I respected him. But neither of those things gave him the right to talk to me like he just had. Like I was a child he had to remind to behave.
Side eying him, I let my fingers play over the empty glass in front of me. It had contained water, but as the night wore on, I would probably move onto the heavier stuff. Fresh juices and all that jazz. I was the king of rock and roll, after all.
If Louis noticed my eyes on him, he didn’t bat an eyelid to acknowledge it. He just continued to stare straight ahead, his freshly bleached blonde head nodding away to whatever song was booming from the speakers. Something poppy, with candy sweet lyrics and a catchy beat.
“I’m not going to spoil anything,” I finally gritted out. And I wouldn’t. I was pretty damn sure I wouldn’t. Jax was like a brother to me, and I loved Elodie. If it hadn't been for her, I wouldn’t have gotten sober. That Louis even thought I would do anything to jeopardise their special night was ridiculous. I wasn’t that much of an asshole, no matter what everyone thought. They had worked too hard on this, and I could keep my mouth shut and my opinions to myself for one night. “The fuck…” Shaking away my anger, I tightened my hand on the glass. And not for the first time since I got sober, I wished it was full of something other than sparkling water.
I needed a drink. I always needed a drink.
“I didn’t mean anything by it, Dion. Everyone knows you wouldn’t.”
I continued to stare at him. His flesh covered in ink, the almost too bright hair. Louis was the epitome of what he was, a rockstar. And a damn talented one at that. But sometimes I just wanted to smack the smug, panty–dropping smile right from his face.
Finally, he turned his face towards me. “You’re a moody son of a bitch, Dion. Cheer up a little. Life isn’t that bad.”
I stared at him in shock. Not because I didn’t agree with him. After all, my life was pretty awesome to anyone looking in. No, it was the way he said the words that made my mouth go suddenly dry. It sounded so much like her. Like the woman who had started all of this. Was it really only seven or so months ago? It felt like a lifetime, not less than a year. But so much had changed in that time, and not just for me. All of Dionysus Rising were morphing into different men.
We were as close as ever, but at the same time, drifting apart. Erik would have called it maturing.
And it had all started with her, or more specifically, the first time I had set eyes on her at the Summit Awards. The awards ceremony where we had picked up Rock Song of the Year. It had been the pinnacle of my career and the moment it had all started to go wrong.
Because it had been the day that she had ripped my heart out and stomped it under her perfect little foot. Before that day, I’d never in a million years thought a woman could hold so much power over me. How wrong I’d been.
“Is she coming tonight?” The words left my mouth in a rush. I hadn’t asked about her for months. I deliberately didn’t ask about her, even when she haunted my thoughts.
“Who?” Louis made a show of looking bored, but I knew he knew who I was talking about. He always got that disinterested look on his face whenever her name was mentioned.
Levelling my eyes on him for a second, I suddenly couldn’t bring myself to say her name, either. My eyes skirted away, taking in the grimy night club laid out before me.
“Your sister,” I finally managed. I already knew the answer to my question. This place, the gritty darkness where I felt most at home, wasn't the kind of place she would ever frequent. Not ever. It just wasn’t who she was.
“Don’t worry, I don’t want to know.” But I did. I always wanted to know what she was doing. The girl had broken me in ways I couldn’t even say out loud, although I’d penned them in words. Private words in a song that would never see the light of day. Everyone knew I had been working on new material, but that particular song…nope…they weren’t getting it. It was too personal, too private, and too painful.
“I have no idea what she’s doing, Dion, and that’s the honest truth.”
He didn’t sound like he was lying. Yet I couldn’t help but ask. “But you wouldn’t tell me even if you did, right?”
His answering shrug didn’t fill me with hope.
“Where the hell are they?” The voice was loud and instantly recognisable.
Lifting myself slightly off the bench I had sprawled on, I half raised my hand in greeting when I saw our bassist’s face above the crowd. His smooth, classically good–looking face was drawn tight with worry.
“Dion, you mother–fucker where are you?” He bellowed over the music again, turning this way and that as he scanned the crowd.
I had only a moment to wonder what he was mad at me for before he spotted me and came barrelling towards us.
