The Complete Rockstar Series (45 page)

“Hey.” I drop into the chaise next to his. Adam turns his back to me, whispering into the phone.

What the hell? Has everyone lost their bloody minds tonight?

Adam disconnects the call almost immediately after I turn up, but makes no move to speak or turn around. I watch my best mate carefully, staring at his back…waiting. He’s all hunched over, shoulders rounded forward. His legs are spread wide with his elbows propped on his knees. Adam’s head of dark hair hangs down while one shaky hand rakes through it.

“Adam? You okay?” For a moment I wonder if he’s on the piss. He’s been doing really well the last few weeks, keeping sober, avoiding nameless slags. It would be difficult to see him backslide again.

Adam’s shoulders go up as he takes in a deep breath then they collapse in as he lets it out slowly. After what feels like ages, he turns his head so I can see his face. It’s blotchy and red and, I swear, I think he’s been crying.

“Fuck. What happened?” I jump to my feet, circling the chaise until I’m in front of him. “What the fuck, Adam? Who was on the phone just now? Did something happen to Ellie?”

My mate, who I’ve known for my entire life, who has had some really really shitty things happen to him in the past, has always tried to never let the pain show on his face. The man who’s always smiling, is honest-to-god fucking crying.

Hell, the only other time I’ve known him to shed a tear is when Kate told him about how he was smashed and he chased Ellie away at a party in L.A. a couple years back.

Adam doesn’t say a word. He simply wipes his eyes and leans back on the chaise, kicking his feet up onto the cushion. I watch, speechless, while he stares up into the night sky.

Unable to stand the tension, I throw back the rest of my beer and put the glass on a nearby table.

“Adam…?” I croak, afraid that perhaps Ellie has… No, she couldn’t be dead. He’d be headed straight for the bar to get rat-arsed if that were the case.

When he finally speaks, he carefully avoids any sort of eye contact. Instead choosing to stare out at the pool, the water lit up in the darkness.

“Life really sucks sometimes, yeah? I mean, you try to be a good person, try to do right by people, but shit just follows you around wherever you go.”

I’m not sure if I’m meant to answer or if it’s rhetorical, so I stay silent. This is how Adam’s brain works. It’s what makes him such a brilliant songwriter—his deep emotions, his caring soul, his heavy burdens. They clog up his mind, filling it with unwavering devotion to all things, both good and bad.

“Maybe good things aren’t meant to happen to good people,” he says despondently.

What on earth is he going on about?

“That’s not true. Look at us. We came from nothing—fuck, less than nothing—and here we are.” I hold my hands up, indicating the posh surroundings.

Adam turns towards me, his brows knitted together in a twisted grimace. “Yeah mate, look at us. You really think all this… this fucking shite is what makes us happy?” His voice is rising in volume, hostility radiating off of him. Adam gets to his feet, towering over my chair. “You’re no happier than I am! I’ve got bloody nothing, Dax! Nothing! And neither do you. We’ve both lost the only things that matter to us, and no amount of money will ever make up for it!”

He flips a nearby chair, sending it flying into a nearby flowerbed. Adam twists back towards me, his finger pointing accusingly. “You had it all, you bastard! You had what I fucked up and lost! And what did you do?” Adam’s lip curls up in disgust. “You tossed it in with the rubbish—tossed Kate as if she were nothing!”

I stand up to try and calm him down, but he explodes.

“Fuck this! Fuck everything! I can’t take it anymore! It’s nothing but fucking misery, every single fucking day!” Adam’s voice cracks as he chokes down a sob.

My arms reach out to grab his shoulders, to talk some sense into him. I have no bloody clue what this is about but I have to do something. Adam is self-destructing again.

He bats my hands away. “Don’t fucking try to tell me everything is okay you wanker, because it’s not!” he shouts. “You think pretending shit isn’t happening is going to make everything alright? How’s that working for you, Dax? Hmmm? Is bottling everything up making you fucking happy? Because I’m not seeing it! Your actions have consequences whether they affect you or not!”

I get in his face, good and angry now. “I have no bloody clue what’s got you so pissed! You haven’t told me what the hell you’re going on about! And leave me the fuck out of your crap! I’ll deal with my own shit however I want! It’s none of your concern. At least I’m not buried in booze and whores!”

His furious expression dissolves into utter despair. Lively hazel eyes turn glassy. “If you knew what you did, you’d want to…” he pauses, the fight draining out of him as if someone pulled the plug on a tub full of water. He swipes the back of his hand across his eyes. “Forget it. Fuck you. I need a fucking drink.”

Adam turns and storms off, leaving me shocked and gaping, my arms still reaching out towards where he was standing. I drop them to my sides and fall down back into a chair.

Not much gets Adam going like that. We haven’t had a proper row in a long time. I have no clue who he was talking to on the phone or what happened. I do know that it’s pointless to wonder. Adam won’t tell me until he’s good and ready. If I’m the expert in burying my emotions and locking them up tight, Adam is the expert at putting on a happy face and going through the motions.

For something to affect him this deeply, to have him lose it like that, hell… he’ll be drinking himself back into oblivion in no time. Just like me, he’s learned that the mask only stays in place for just so long. When it cracks and your true self is revealed, the result isn’t always pretty.

I lean over and pinch the bridge of my nose, a pounding headache coming on.
Bloody hell.
Between Lila’s shit and Adam’s drinking, I’m going to have my hands full.

I slump back, feeling ages older than my nearly twenty-one years. Maybe Adam is right. Maybe we’ll both be miserable forever. Maybe dealing with Lila’s obsession and Adam’s addiction is penance for being such a violent, unfeeling bastard all my life.

Fuck knows I deserve whatever suffering is thrown at me, if for no other reason than breaking Kate’s heart.

K
ate

“
K
ate
? I’m home!” I hear Abby enter the flat, the noise of her luggage rolling across the hardwood floor. “Kate? You here?”

I can’t bring myself to answer. I’ve hardly moved in the two weeks since… since… A whimper escapes my throat. The panicked feelings I’ve been having spread out from the pit of my stomach, worming their way into my limbs. I breathe slowly, in and out, focusing on holding myself together like I read on the Internet.

Using the Internet as a psychologist when I have a flatmate who has a degree in psychology. That’s what I’ve resorted to.

A knock on my bedroom door startles me. “Kate?” It swings open a crack, revealing my flatmate. “There you are.” She gets a good look at me and her brow crumples. “Why’s it dark in here? You’re still in bed. Are you sick?”

“No.” My voice is raspy, tired sounding. “Just having a lie-in, that’s all.”

Abby stares at me, the psychologist in her trying to piece together the picture she’s seeing. I pull the duvet up higher, trying to hide my swollen, red face. “Are you sure? Do you want to talk?”

I shiver. The last thing I want to do is discuss that night with my psychologist flatmate. She’ll have me in therapy in no time, reliving it over and over until I’m
empowered
or some bloody crap. All I want to do is forget. The Internet doesn’t ask questions.

“No. I’m fine, really.”

She presses me again. I know if I can’t get it together she’ll be dissecting every little thing I do in that analytical brain of hers.

“I-I…” I burst into tears, sobbing uncontrollably.

“Kate, what’s going on?” The bed dips down where Abby has sat next to me.

Still, all I can do is snuffle into the duvet, soaking it with tears.

“Hey,” Abby rubs a kind hand over my back, speaking in calm, soothing tones. “Kate. Tell me what happened while I was gone. You know I won’t judge you. Does it have to do with Dax?”

I shudder, inhaling a snotty, loud breath. “No. Not Dax.”

“All right,” she murmurs, her hand still making small circles on my back. “Then who?”

“I don’t want to say,” I admit. Knowing Abby, she’s march right over to the frat house and knock on the door, demanding to speak to Wes.

“That’s fine. So what did he do? I’ve never seen you this upset.” Abby hands me a box of tissues off of my desk.

“Thanks.” I mop up the mess of tears and snot, my sobs weakening to a silent clench in my heart. Steeling myself, I tell Abby about the party, how I drank too much, how I let Wes bring me home, and what he did.

Abby takes my hand, squeezing it tight. “I hope to god you reported it,” she says icily.

“I didn’t want to.” I fiddle with the used tissue. “But I did.”

“What did the police say?”

I shrug. “I had already cleaned up. He didn’t actually, you know,” my face burns with shame, “put it in me. There was no evidence. They spoke to him and that was it.”

“I hate this,” Abby whispers.

“What?” I look over at her, surprised to see the pure, undiluted loathing on her normally serene face.

“I hate that he’ll get away with it.” She scowls, turning to me. “Even if you saved your clothes, really, it would just be your word against his. What’s the point?” Her voice rises until she’s shrieking. “They always get away with it, Kate! I fucking hate it!”

My mouth falls open in shock. Abby swore. Sweet, easy-going, laid back Abby.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“Don’t be sorry. He’s the sick bastard that did it, not you. You have nothing to be sorry about,” she snaps.

“I don’t really want to talk about it anymore.” There’s nothing left to say. I’m drained. Completely drained.

“Well, you know I’m here if you need me.” Abby stands up. “Are you hungry? Want to order a pizza?”

“Sure. Let me clean up.” I haven’t eaten properly since she left for the holidays. I’m sure I’ll have to force the food down. Brilliant. Hopefully I don’t gag.

I turn the shower up as hot as it will go and step in, letting the water scald my skin. I’ve had dozens of showers since that night, but I never really feel clean. It’s as if I’m dirty all the time, tainted somehow. Even though Wes technically didn’t rape me, what he did makes me sick to my stomach every time I think of it.

Tears start flowing, mixing in with the water and washing down the drain. Each drop that falls represents something I’ve lost—trust, hope, my soul, Dax—the pain is so powerful it nearly doubles me over.

Dax is no longer the only man that’s touched me. I think that’s what hurts most of all.

Once I’ve stopped sobbing in the shower, I clean up and get dressed. It takes all of my energy to put on a pathetic sort-of smile as I head for the lounge. Abby already has the pizza open on the small table in front of the sofa and is dishing out pieces onto plates.

“Did you get out on Christmas at least? Or New Year’s?” she asks through a mouthful of pepperoni and cheese. I can tell by the pinched look on her face that my story affected Abby more than she’s letting on.

“Nah. I spent both days watching the telly. Loads of holiday movies on.”

I actually spent Christmas and New Year’s in bed. First, crying over Dax, then crying over Wes and what he did. The day after it happened, I broke down and rang Adam, letting him calm me down with his comforting voice. I don’t know why I called him.

Was it a subconscious way of reaching out to Dax? Maybe because he’s a tie to my home and that makes me feel safer somehow? I couldn’t ring up my parents and tell them. They’d never get over it. They’d make it their fault somehow. By letting me come to uni here.

Whatever my reasoning was, Adam was incredibly emotional over the whole thing. He’s a great listener, always has been. Adam is a very sensitive person.

It helps that both have our demons so we’re able to speak freely with one another. He still laments the loss of Ellie, trying to work through the guilt he feels for running her away after that posh party almost two years ago. I’m quite certain he’ll never be over that moment, never be over her.

I confided in Adam about the assault I suffered. He let me use him to vent my anger at Wes and at myself for getting so drunk that my judgment was impaired. Adam was the one who begged me to call the police, but by the time I did, several days had passed, any evidence long gone.

When I hung up I cried some more—not that I’ll be telling Abby any of that. She doesn’t need to know that I’m speaking to Adam.

“I really wish I had pushed you to come home with me. My parents would have loved to have you.”

She frowns and wipes her hands with a napkin. “I could have used someone there with me. My brothers were just awful. Jace is in those moody teenage years where all he wants to do is hide in his room and play X-Box or text his friends. Evan has been accepted to Columbia, in New York, so his girlfriend was all over him dropping hints about how she’s always wanted to live on the East Coast.”

I smile for the first time in two weeks. Abby’s family is perfect, even if her brothers are annoying sometimes. “Is she going to go then? With your brother to New York?”

Abby laughs so hard she chokes on her drink. “No! Christ, no. My mom and dad would kill him. School always comes first with them. They wouldn’t let Evan screw up his future with the distraction of having his girlfriend tag along.” Abby makes a face, as if she thinks her parents are being ridiculous.

Unfortunately, I do know about difficult choices. Just like her brother and his girlfriend. My choice to be with the one I loved was taken away from me. Only, the decision to split us up didn’t come from a parent doing what they thought was in my best interest. No, it came from the person I trusted with my heart, only to watch him crush it to bits.