Miles Apart (The Not So Bad Boys of Rock Book 2) (10 page)

BOOK: Miles Apart (The Not So Bad Boys of Rock Book 2)
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Come
back to me, I’ll make everything alright.

 

My
heart was so full of love as he poured out his soul to me, showing me how
vulnerable he had been. Knowing that I had caused that pain was one thing.
Hearing the words he’d put together to express that pain was another thing
altogether.

“You’re
awfully quiet over there. Did you hate it or just fall asleep on me?” He asked,
nervously.

“I
loved it. I loved the song and the man that wrote it. I just hate that I caused
you that much pain. I love you Sebastian. I love you now, and I will love you
until the day that I die. Thank you.”

“No,
honey. Thank you.”

“Me?
What did I do that you are thanking me for?”

“Everything.
You do, and you are, everything. All that I am, everything good in my life,
it’s all because of you. I love you, baby. Now, go to bed.”

“Goodnight
Sebastian.”

 
 
 
 
 
 
 

CHAPTER ELEVEN

 
 

Sebastian~

 

The next week flew by, thankfully, and each day
brought me closer to Brooke. Tomorrow we would leave Amsterdam and head to
London. I’d told Brooke that we would be arriving late tomorrow night and that
I’d meet her at her apartment bright and early the next morning. We had plans
to spend the next week locked away, with the exception of rehearsals and the
concerts. After singing to her, and baring my soul completely, all I could
think about was holding her in my arms.

At
seven o’clock Chris rapped on my door, as only Chris could do. Not one to simply
knock, Chris drummed out a beat on the metal door that could easily have been
mistaken for a drum solo, and I almost felt compelled to ask him if he was
vying for Trav's position in the band.

“Yo!
Hipster King. Let’s roll!” I pulled open the door, shaking my head at the
ridiculous nickname they had labeled me with many years ago during a rather
questionable fashion stage I’d gone through.

“Yeah,
yeah. I’m here. You ready brother?” I slung my arm around his broad shoulder. I
loved this guy.

“Let’s
do this.” He called out, pumping his fist in the air for good measure.

 

Our sound check had
gone smoothly, and by
the time the warm-up band had finished their six-song set I was pumped and
ready to take the stage. We made our way around backstage, giving one another a
fist-bump for good luck. Chris bounded up the stairs first, taking his spot in
front of Trav's drum kit. Dek followed closely behind, making his way across
the stage to where his favorite electric guitar sat waiting. There were four
lined up behind him, each one used for a specific song. Dek loved his guitars.
Travis turned to me, giving me a one-armed hug and a rough pat on the back. I
gave a chin tip, and that gesture said it all. It basically said ‘Thanks man, I
love you.’ We joined the guys on stage, rounding out the set, and the crowd
went wild.

“Good
evening Amsterdam. Is everybody ready to have a good time?” The crowd screamed
around us, their collective voices echoing throughout the arena. Not feeling
that they were pumped enough, I repeated the question, yelling into the
microphone. “I said, is everybody ready to have a good time?” The response was
electric, priming Dek for the intro to our first song. More screams followed as
the crowd recognized the first riff of his guitar, and I started in on one of
our most popular songs.

 

I’ve
fallen just below the surface

And
now its getting hard to breathe.

I
fight like hell to rise above it

But
something pulls me underneath.

 

We
made our way through four more songs off our last album. The crowd responded
with the same enthusiasm we’d received at previous concerts. This is what keeps
us going, we feed off the energy radiating throughout the arena. I turn to Dek,
giving him a nod, and take the mic in my hand, walking around the stage. Dek
played softly as I started to speak to the crowd.

“Something
happened to me around three years ago. Something many of you never even heard
of. You see, I was a young man and I had a girl that loved me. But I didn’t
fully appreciate that love. Then, one night our car collided with another and
she was killed. That night changed my life. I became a shell of a man. Walking
around in a drug induced haze or a drunken stupor. For nearly a year I did
every thing I could to put my life at risk, never feeling worthy of more. And
then I met Brooke, the one woman that turned my world on it’s axis, and made me
look at things in a whole new way. I fell in love, and I fell hard. Guys, you
know what I’m talking about, don’t you?” I heard screams of ‘hell yeah, man,’ and
quite a few expletives. “Now, I’m on tour and she’s over in London, and I’m not
gonna lie, it’s hard. But the one thing I’ve learned from loving her is to hold
on tight and never give up. So baby, I love you, and this one’s for you.” I
began singing one of her favorites, “Heart Is On Fire.”

 

Taking a chance as we walk on a wire

Never let go until your heart is on fire.

Erasing the emptiness, like a hit man for hire

Never let go until your heart is on fire.

 

We
played through eight more songs, the crowd never tiring, before we left the
stage, screams for an encore echoing behind us. We were whipped, but this crowd
had been awesome and we didn’t want to disappoint.

“What
do you say guys?” Travis gave a head-tilt, and twirled his drum sticks through
his fingers. “Got a few more in you?”

“Hell
yeah!” Chris bellowed, bounding back out there as if someone had just given him
a shot of adrenaline.

“You
guys have been a fantastic audience!” I yelled, riling them up even more. “You
want to hear some more?” My cocky swagger brought on a multitude of wolf whistles
and muffled propositions. Laughter echoed wickedly through the microphone as I
moved over the stage.

“Yeah!”
They chorused back at me. It was music to my ears. I slung a guitar over my
shoulder and made my way over to Dek. We started in on one of our newer songs,
a hard rocking beat with a strong drum-line and lots of guitar solos for Dek.

 

A
shot rings out in the still of the night.

Man
goes down without a witness in sight.

Shooter
gets away while the blood begins to seep.

Man
calls out but no one hears,

His
voice. Is. Too weak.

 

Three
songs later we exit the stage as more chanting followed. This time we kept
walking, making our way through the maze that made up the area backstage. Stage
hands and roadies called out to us, telling us what a great show it was, as
they made their way to stage and begin disassembling the set-up.

“Great
show guys. Really great.” Davis entered the room, clapping his hands firmly
together. “I loved that encore kick-off. Sebastian, you and Dek really need to
do more simultaneous guitar playing. The crowd ate it up.” His toothy grin took
up most of the space on his face. Most days I couldn't stand the guy, but he
was good at what he did, so we kept him around.

“Yeah,
it’s all good, but I’m ready to pack up and move out. I need to get to London.”

“Yeah,
come on Davis, let’s get an early start, our boy has a girl waiting on him.”
Chris looked over and gave me a jaunty wink. I couldn’t help but shake my head.
Man, I love that guy.

 

Brooke~

 

I love Sunday mornings. Max only keeps the
restaurant open for brunch on these days, so that means I go in just before
seven and finish up at two. That gives me the entire afternoon and evening to
stroll around the city or hang out in my cozy little apartment. This afternoon
Reid and I are going to check out the new produce at one of the local shops.
We’ve developed a really good rapport with the owner, and he calls to give us a
heads up when something new or exotic comes in.

The
restaurant Reid works for is only a few doors down from Lardon’s, so it’s not
unusual for our regular customers to also frequent their establishment. Both
are known for their equally impressive dishes. I’ve dined there on a few
occasions and have to agree that Reid runs an efficient kitchen, plus, the food
was amazing. He’s only a few years older than me, but we graduated from
culinary school right around the same time. His early years in the kitchen
weren’t quite the same as mine. He had to work a bit harder to climb the
ladder, but his skills ultimately got him the position he holds today.

 

I’m currently standing
off
to
the side of the kitchen, observing Victoria as she expedites the brunch orders.
We’re busy this morning, which isn’t unusual, but today we have a large crowd
in from the states. I heard a rumor about a pharmaceutical convention being
held nearby so maybe that’s what brought in the crowd.

“Order
in!” Victoria called out, and everyone behind the pass turned their attention
on her voice. “Three covers. Two full English breakfasts, eggs poached. One
eggs Benedict, extra hollandaise.”

“Yes,
Chef!” The crew turned back to their stations and continued to crank out plate
after plate of delectable looking food. After a flurry of activity, Victoria
made the last swipe over a plate and placed it on the pass.

“Service,
please!” I smiled, proud to see that she was in complete control.

I
made my way out through the bar, pausing to say hello to the bartender, James,
before I did a circuit of the dining room. I greeted customers, asking them if
they were enjoying their food. I addressed a few concerns about eggs that were
poached too long, some not long enough. After seeing that each guest was
satisfied, I made my way toward the back offices. I moved forward, through the
French doors and past the coat room. That’s when I saw him leaving the men’s
washroom.

Him
being my father.

I
hadn’t seen him in thirteen years, but I was sure it was him. I wasn’t sure
what to do or say. I stood their mute, obviously looking like a complete
lunatic. He looked over at me, his gaze lingering longer than your standard
glance, before offering a polite nod and moving on.

He
hadn’t recognized me.

But
how could that be?

I
looked so much like him.

His
hair was blonde, and still cut short, like I remember it when I was younger. My
dad and I had been close once. When I was in first grade he would pick me up
from school three times a week, and we would always go out for ice cream, and
then to the park. I remember he used to read me bedtime stories and I would
make him change his voice as he read different characters. There were memories
of when he would take me to work with him and show me around his office, always
introducing me to his co-workers in a silly way, acting as if I had never been
there before.

Then,
one day it all stopped, and he and mom began fighting more frequently, until
one day he just didn’t come home.

To
this day I still don’t understand why he never said goodbye.

I
stood there staring after him, turning my body so that my eyes could follow
where he went. He joined a table of seven and immediately began laughing at
something that someone must have said. I watched him with his friends, acting
comfortably as if nothing had happened. Maybe for him nothing had happened, but
for me, time seemed to be moving backwards and suddenly I was that little girl
again. The girl who sat by the door night after night waiting for her daddy to
come back home. Only he never did.

I
felt a nervous flutter in my stomach and shook my head violently, trying to
snap out of the trance. Just as I was about to turn around he looked my way and
gave an uncomfortable smile, followed by a small wave.

I
started to lift my hand to return the wave but then thought better of it. I
stood up straight and turned away quickly, making my way back to my office, and
fighting like hell to hold back the tears threatening to escape.

Damn
him and his little wave. He didn’t deserve my return wave. Why couldn’t he have
just gone on ignoring me? Why couldn’t I have just walked away? And what did it
matter anyhow?

I
had long since accepted the fact that he had probably forgotten about me. Never
once had he tried to contact me. I asked my mom that very question every day
for nearly two months straight until she finally got angry with me and told me
to never speak of him again.

I
couldn’t really say why any of it mattered, other than the sheer curiosity of
finding out how it was that he could walk away so easily. I wanted to know if
he’d ever thought about me and wondered how my life had turned out. Well, part
of me wanted to know the answers, another part of me was terrified to hear that
he left because he didn’t love me anymore.

I
threw myself down into the chair in the corner and focused on taking deep,
cleansing breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth. In through the
nose…

“Brooke?”
I heard the hostess, Mary, call out just as a soft knock hit my door. “Are you
in there?”

“Just
a sec. I’ll be right out.” I answered carefully, pulling myself together before
I went out to meet her.

“Great.
There was someone asking about you at the front desk, so I brought them back to
see you.”

“What?”
I frowned, yanking the door open. “Someone was looking for me? Who was it?” I
snapped, suddenly irritated that she would bring a complete stranger back to my
office without checking with me first.

“I’m
sorry,” she stammered nervously, and began to back away. “He said that he might
be your father. I thought you would want to see him.” Her lips pursed tightly
together and she gave a small squeak as she turned and bolted for the front of
the house.

BOOK: Miles Apart (The Not So Bad Boys of Rock Book 2)
7.29Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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