The Complete Rockstar Series (9 page)

E
llie

T
he closer it
gets to the end of term, the harder it is for me to concentrate. My mum had her surgery and has been getting the last type of chemo, which has made her weak and very sick most of the time, but the doctor says it’s shrinking the cancer. Dad has been working just as much as usual, maybe more now that Mum has had to take leave from her job.

I don’t care about going to uni anymore. My goal is just to finish school and get a job to help out my family. My parents fought with me on this and are insisting that I continue on to study nursing like I always said I would. How can I say no to my mum when she’s ill?

The problem is, none of my past goals seem important to me. Only my mum, my dad, and Adam. Everything else is just background noise in my chaotic life.

“Well, what did you think?”

“Huh? What?” I look up at Adam blankly as the rest of the band stares back from across the empty pub.

“I guess that answers our question. You weren’t even listening, were you?” Adam asks, coming over to where I’m sitting on a barstool.

“I’m sorry.” I wrap my arms around my body to keep myself from falling apart. Sleep has been hard to come by since my mum’s illness, so I’m pretty much always on the edge of falling asleep or crying from exhaustion.

“We asked, what do you think of
Sphere of Irony
for the name of our band?” Adam repeats, bending down to see my face.

“Great, it’s great,” I answer without thinking, my brain on full autopilot. A minute later, I realize it makes no sense. “Wait! What does it mean?”

Hawke laughs from behind his drum set. “These idiots just took something I said and warped it,” he says, smiling.

“Yeah,” Dax laughs. “Hawke said that when we play, we’re in our own little world, like being in a bubble. Then we made fun of him for saying ‘bubble’. He got shitty and asked if ‘sphere’ sounded snobby enough for our ‘uppity British arses’.” He makes dramatic air quotes around the last three words.

“Idiot.” Hawke rolls his eyes and taps out a riff on his drums. “Then I told them that they should leave the irony to me because they suck at it, and that was that.”

I smile at the four boys, no they’re men now, Dax, Adam and myself having turned eighteen years old in the past few months, and Hawke and Gavin turned eighteen last year. “It’s brilliant, really. I love it,” I tell them, and I mean it. I still don’t get it, but it’s good.

I’m rewarded with four giant grins and they get ready to play their next song.

Once they’re done with practice, they pack up their gear and I grab my handbag to leave. One by one, the guys say their good-byes and take off but Adam lingers, spending way too long to get his guitar packed up.

“Are we going home at some point?” I ask, watching him anxiously wander around the stage area.

“Yeah, I just wanted to talk to you for a second,” he says. Grabbing my hand he tugs me over to a booth in the corner, letting me sit and then shoving in next to me on the same side so I have to scoot over to make room.

I swallow nervously. Adam’s not real big on talking, so this has got me thinking the worst. My hand unconsciously goes to my mouth and I worry at my poor, ragged thumbnail.

Adam turns to face me, our thighs pressing together in the tiny booth, takes both of my hands in his, and gently pulls my thumb out of my mouth. He stares at me with those deep, hazel eyes, the flecks of golden brown even more pronounced today than usual.

“Ellie, Hawke has an uncle who’s a big deal in the club and music scene. Hawke sent him some of our stuff and his uncle says he can book us for some gigs.”

“That’s great, Adam. God, you had me all freaked out thinking you were going to tell me something awful!”

Adam looks at me strangely, then swallows nervously. “Ellie, Hawke’s uncle lives in L.A., where he’s from. The clubs are there, he can get us into some of the best places where music producers and important people can hear us play.”

As Adam speaks I can feel my heart physically breaking in two. The pain is so strong, that I can’t breathe, or blink, or move. Los Angeles! That’s practically the other side of the world. I want to clutch at my aching chest, but Adam keeps my hands wrapped in a tight grip.

“Sweetheart,” he continues, “I want you to come with me. You can go to university there, in California. Gavin says there’s loads of schools and you could probably get into any one of them with your grades.”

It takes my brain a second to catch up, but I finally piece together what Adam’s trying to say. “You want me to move to Los Angeles… with you?” I ask, still reeling from the thought of us being separated.

He clutches my hands firmly and brings them to his mouth for a kiss. “Yes. I want you to come with me,” he says, his gaze unwavering.

He’s serious. Dead serious. Move to the U.S. With Adam.

My mind scrambles to process what he’s offering. A chance to get out of the East End, to go to school, to stay together while Adam pursues his dream with his mates. It sounds too good to be true.

“But, my parents,” I tell him as a lump forms in my stomach. How can I leave them alone? With my dad working all of the time and my mum so ill?

“You said they want you to go to university. So you wouldn’t be around next year either way? You could come back during breaks and visit.” Adam’s eyes light up with hope. “It’ll work, Ellie. I know it will.”

“Kate did mention that one of her scholarships was to a school in Los Angeles,” I think out loud.

“Brilliant!” Adam says, a wide grin spreading across his handsome face. “You’re so smart, I’m sure you can get a scholarship there too.”

He makes it sound too easy. Maybe it
is
that easy. The deciding factor is my parents. I can’t leave without their blessing. I won’t, and that breaks my heart all over again.

W
ith only a few
weeks left in the term, I have to talk to my parents about Los Angeles. I’ve applied to so many schools, I don’t even remember which ones until the letters begin to arrive. I was accepted into almost all of them, with large scholarships to several. I’m scared to death to hear my parents’ answer. If they say yes, I won’t be around to help my mum go through the last cycle of her chemo. If they say no, I’ll lose Adam and be heartbroken. Either way I can’t win.

Gathering up as much courage as I can, I sit on a small armchair in our lounge and wipe my sweaty palms on my skirt, the sounds of the television squawking in the background.

“Mum, Dad, can we have a chat?” I ask, my wavering voice betraying me already.

My dad puts down his newspaper and they both turn their eyes to me, giving me their complete focus. Mum looks tired, really tired. Chemo hasn’t been kind to her.

“Yes, dear?” my dad asks, waiting for me to speak.

I close my eyes and spit out the facts as quickly as I possibly can. “Kate is going to Los Angeles to go to university. I’ve looked into scholarships and it looks as if I’ll get enough money to go to the same school. I’d like to go, but I don’t want to leave you two if it means not having enough help round here to get Mum to her appointments and what not,” I blurt out without taking a single breath, only opening my eyes when I’m done.

My parents stare at me after my rambling outburst. They look as if I just told them I’m pregnant with an alien child and am moving to Mars. I specifically leave Adam out of the equation. I don’t want them to think I’m leaving to shack up with my boyfriend, even though that’s kind of what I’m doing.

“So…?” I ask as I fidget with a fraying edge on the cushion of my chair.

Dad snaps out of it first, regaining his composure and closing his gaping jaw. “So you want to go to university in the U.S.? That’s what you’re asking?” he asks in a tone that gives me no hint as to what he’s thinking about my outburst.

I flick my eyes from him to my mum, then back again. “Yes,” I say, nodding in agreement.

My parents turn to look at each other, communicating silently somehow, in that way that people who are each other’s halves can do. Then they focus back on me as I twitch nervously on the tiny chair.

Inexplicably, the unthinkable happens. They both smile. Real smiles. Probably the first ones that have occurred in this flat since Mum’s cancer diagnosis.

“We think that’s brilliant, Ellie. Just wonderful. Our daughter smart enough to go to school in the U.S.” My mum has tears of happiness filling up her eyes.

Dad gets up and pulls me into a hug, “We couldn’t be more proud of you, Ellie,” he says, choking back his emotions.

“Really?” I squeak out. “You don’t think I should stay here and help? Because I will, I don’t want to leave you without extra hands…”

My mum cuts me off before I can finish. “Ellie, we want you to make something of yourself. Get out of this place. Our only wish for you is to not end up here.” The tears are now coursing freely down her cheeks.

I step over to her and sit next to her on the sofa, carefully wrapping my mum in an embrace. Her body is so small and frail now. Gone is her long golden hair, replaced by a colorful scarf tied around her head. Gone is the healthy, strong woman that raised me, replaced by a pale shell. But today, for the first time in a while, I can see a hint of the mischievous twinkle in her eyes that has been missing since the diagnosis.

She pats my cheek lovingly. “Be happy, Ellie. That’s all we want.”

“Okay, Mum. Dad.” I manage to get to my room and close the door before I burst into silent tears. I have no idea if the tears are happy, sad, or both.

A
dam

“
E
verything is working out brilliantly
, Dax.” We head toward my flat, chatting excitedly about the future the entire way. I forgot my notebook there and we need it to go over a few lyrics at band practice.

Ellie had to go home and fill out more paperwork for admission into the University of California, so we walked her there before setting off for my place. It’s all working out perfect. We’ll all be in Los Angeles together, even Ellie’s best friend Kate who got a scholarship to play football there. Apparently, unlike the U.K., girl’s footy is a huge deal in the States.

“Gavin and Hawke are leaving on Saturday, and we can get our tickets and join them after the term is over,” Dax says. “It’s going to be so cool. Playing gigs in bars in L.A. All those famous places we’ve read about.”

“Exactly!” I’m unable to contain my enthusiasm. “If Hawke’s uncle is even half as good as the two of them say he is, we’ll be signed in no time.”

It takes me a minute to unlock the door to my flat, but I finally get it open. When I walk inside, I stop short before I can take more than a few steps into the room. Dax slams into the back of me, cursing at my sudden halt.

“What the hell? Why did you…?” He cuts his sentence short when he sees exactly why I stopped short.

“Ahhhh, my piece of shit son is finally home!” booms the tall, lean man who stands a few meters opposite us.

An icy fist clenches my stomach and twists at the sight, sending a jolt of fear down my spine. “What are you doing here?” I hope the panic that I feel isn’t too obvious in my voice.

An amused look crosses the unexpected visitor’s face, his familiar hazel eyes trapping me like a mouse being toyed with by a cat. “Is that any way to greet your dad?”

My fists clench in anger at my sides. “
You
aren’t my dad. Never have been, never will be.”

Dax’s large hand grips my shoulder, holding me in place. Though I doubt he knows I’d rather turn back than leap forward and fight, I let him think he’s keeping me from attacking my dad. “Don’t let him get to you. It’s not worth it,” he whispers in my ear.

The man who gave me half of my DNA steps closer to us, my body tensing up at his proximity.

“Still hanging around with lowlife chavs, I see.” His eyes flick over to Dax then back to me.

Dax grips my shoulder even harder, his thick fingers digging into my flesh. Unlike me, Dax would probably love to have a go at my dad. Fighting’s in his blood. “Well, I guess that’s something I inherited from you,” I throw back at him.

My dad smirks. “Oh, I think you’re more like me than you’ll admit. Word’s out that you’re working for Danny again.”

“I’m not working for Danny,” I hiss, the anger building deep inside me, begging to be let out. “I
worked
for Danny, it’s not something I plan on doing again.” My eyes dart around the small room. “Where’s Mum?” I don’t know why I ask, I can’t say I care where she is most days.

He takes another step forward, now close enough for me to smell the whiskey that perpetually surrounds him, a smell that brings back memories of pain and terror. “I heard that you’re not working for Danny anymore because you’re too much of a nancy to prevent getting jumped. Maybe I didn’t do a good enough job teaching your sorry arse how to fight.” He takes another step. “And who cares where your pathetic whore of a mother is? She’s probably out selling herself for a hit.” His spiteful laugh echoes throughout the flat.

I grit my teeth together, simultaneously afraid of the man who beat me more times than I can count, and furious at his assumption that I should have been able to fight off three guys with knives. I hate violence, I loathe it. The fight with Callum made me sick to my stomach and gave me nightmares for weeks. All because I’m afraid of becoming exactly who I hate the most, my dad.

“I don’t fight… I’m not you. I’ll never be like you!” I shout, biting the inside of my cheek to focus on the blood in my mouth instead of raining fists down on this sorry excuse for a human.

My words cause something dark to spark in my father’s eyes. Something I’ve seen time and time again. I stiffen up, ready for the blows that always follow that look.

My dad lunges for me, and I’m prepared to take a punch to the jaw as I’ve done so many times before. Instead of the pain of a fist, I’m shoved to the ground roughly, so caught off guard that I can’t keep my balance. I scramble to get back on my feet, not wanting to be subjected to the brutal kicks to my ribs that he loves to inflict when I’m on the ground. I get up just in time to see Dax land several expert jabs to my dad’s body, and a final blow to his temple, sending him down…
hard
.

Dax shakes out his hands and turns to face me. “Let’s get your stuff and get out of here. He’s not going to be happy when he wakes.” His voice is calm and even, as if he didn’t just lay someone out.

My best mate cracks his neck and flexes his enormous biceps, not having broken a sweat or showing any signs that he just knocked my dad out cold. Then again, unlike me, Dax
does
fight. A lot. And his conscious is somewhat less developed than most people. Frankly, he just doesn’t give a shit.

I nod and head for my room, stuffing as much as I can into two big, ratty duffels. I grab my notebook and guitar and meet Dax at the door. Taking one last look back at the sad, dilapidated flat, my pathetic father splayed out on the dirty floor, I close the door.

I’m never going back to that life. I’m free.

“
S
o you’ll crash here
with me, and we’ll move up our plan and fly to the U.S. a few weeks early to meet Gavin and Hawke.” Dax paces his tiny room in a flat across town from mine trying to figure out our next move. He shares it with his oldest brother so there’s hardly space to turn around, let alone pace. I sit on one of the beds to stay out of his way.

“Dax, keep your hair on, yeah?” I watch my best mate as he realizes the consequences of knocking out my dad. “Let’s not go completely mental yet. I don’t think your parents will appreciate me staying here that long.”

I’m trying my best to calm Dax down, but I know as well as he does that he’s right. My dad isn’t going to forget what happened. The only things we have on our side are Dax, his three huge brothers, and the fact that we’re leaving the U.K. very soon.

Dax scowls at me, crossing his arms over his wide chest. “Don’t be ridiculous, my parents love you.” He pauses, scrubbing a large hand over the back of his neck. “Do you think your dad will tell Danny?”

“You know Danny doesn’t give a crap about our dad. Unless we nicked Danny’s drugs or money he’s not going to do shit about anything,” I remind Dax.

“Alright then. I have a fight tonight after practice, you coming? You can help out round the club if you want to make yourself feel better about staying here.” He finally stops his twitching to see what I’ll say.

“Why not?” I figure if I go with Dax, I’ll have a bunch of huge guys around me in case my dad gets any ideas. He can be a dangerous bastard and wouldn’t think twice about fucking me up right good, son or not.

Dax grabs his bag and throws a few things in it for tonight. “We might as well go now and I can warm up. Plus, I can tell my brothers to look out for your arsehole of a dad.” He hauls the bag up on his shoulder and opens his bedroom door, stalking out as I follow behind.

I don’t say anything. What would I say? He’s right, my dad is an arsehole, and because he defended me, Dax is probably someone he would love to see suffer. Not that Dax can’t take care of himself, but just like the punks who stabbed me, my dad is well connected with some really dodgy blokes. Two or three stints in lock-up will get you those kinds of friends.

Dax has three brothers, all only separated by a few years. I think his oldest brother, Ethan, is only twenty-two. Liam and Shaun are in the middle, twins. I can’t imagine growing up in this miniscule flat with that many boys, especially the Davies boys, because they are fucking enormous, each and every one of them. Their dad raised them to fight, and once they were old enough he expected them to do their share to earn money, even if it meant having more broken bones than they could possibly count.

We head out for the underground fight club that Dax’s dad runs and I pray that his brothers are receptive to helping us get out of the country in one piece.