Reflex Page 4

  That had also been the night they’d signed her to work on the new album. Of course, by October that had gone tits up. First her dad had needed constant care, and then her oldest brother, Ewan, had arrived home from the Arctic with frostbite. She had another older brother, and two younger ones, but they’d all magically zipped out of town at the same time leaving her holding the bandages.

  Their dad was gone now, passed at the start of the year, and Ewan was no worse for wear after his ordeal, but she’d lost out, both on the Black Halo contract and her relationship with Spook.

  Goddammit. She needed to hear his voice, to know he was all right.

  Alle hit call, but the connection went straight to voice mail. “Fuck,” she muttered.

  Her brother’s monstrous black fur-baby lifted its head and zapped her with a school teacher stare.

  “What, you don’t approve of my language? Well, I don’t approve of you spraying all over the furniture, or being sick in my shoes.”

  The cat didn’t blink.

  “I’m worried about him, okay? You didn’t hear what I did. That crowd was insane. For all I know, he’s missing a couple of limbs by now, or they’ve pulled out all his hair.” Or he’s been squashed under a mass of writhing fangirls and suffocated. That sort of shit happened when crowds got out of hand. “I know Xane said he was okay, but I don’t trust him not to be lying. It’s fishy. He’s usually more forthcoming.”

  At the mention of fish, the cat was at the door mewling. “That’s right,” Alle chastened it. “Think with your belly. It’s no wonder you’re the size of three average moggies.”

  She let the beast into the hallway. Ewan strolled past her on his way to his room from the bathroom. “Thought you were asleep,” he muttered.

  “Not so far.” Nor did she expect to get a whole lot of rest.

  He gave her another once over. “Something up?”

  “Kinda. Maybe. I don’t know. It’s probably nothing.” She leant against the door meaning to push it closed, but Ewan slapped his hand against it, bringing the movement to a stop.

  “If you’re fretting this much, it’s probably not nothing. What’s going on, sis?”

  Alle sucked her lips.

  “Is this a Death By Chocolate moment? Do I need to go and boil some milk and see if my polar bear jumper is clean? Mm?”

  Slowly she nodded, and tears welled in her eyes.

  “Hey, baby sis.” Ewan wrapped her in the sort of hug only a large beardy man could give. “Come downstairs, and I’ll get on it. Whatever it is, you know this’ll make it right.”

  Maybe not entirely right, but she appreciated the sentiment. She’d know that her big brother was there for her, and that she didn’t need to worry alone.

  It only took him a couple of minutes to have her tucked up in the snuggle chair in the bay window with a drink that was so laden with squirty cream and marshmallows it required a spoon to tackle it. He’d gone way overboard on the raspberry sauce too. The polar bear jumper came down to her knees, and smelled a bit musty. Either he’d dragged it from the back of a drawer, or rescued it off the floor. Either way, she didn’t actually mind. It smelled of him. Kind of earthy with a few base notes of aftershave.

  “So what’s the deal?” Ewan settled beside her in a pair of joggers and a T-shirt with a misshapen neck. He gave his full beard a scratch.

  Alle explained what had happened, omitting the details of the conversation she and Spook had been having when the mob descended.

  “Okay, let me get this straight. Xane Geist of Black Halo texted you to say Spook, also of Black Halo, is fine. So, is it Spook you’re worried about, or are you fretting because you think he’s avoiding talking to you?”

  “What? No. Ewan, you didn’t hear how bad it was, and I don’t know, there’s something off about it all. I don’t think I’m getting the full story.”

  “Or maybe, it’s late. They’re an hour ahead, and he’ll call you when it’s convenient.”

  “But—”

  “Jesus, you’ve got it bad for him, haven’t you. I knew you were still in touch, but I didn’t think it was an active pursuit. Are you sure about this, sis? A metal head, really? Not just that. A pretty boy known for his chastity. He doesn’t sound like your type.”

  “You don’t know him. You’re just going off the media portrayal, and we all know how fake those are. He’s sweet, and kind, and—”

  “He’s sweet,” Ewan cackled, flopping against the sofa back with a spot of cream clinging to his moustache. “For fuck’s sake Alle, get real. Spook Mortensen, sweet? That’s like saying you’d take the guys from Dir en Grey home to meet your mum.”

  “Well, I would, if that wouldn’t be weird since we buried her a decade ago. Ewan, I like him. He’s different. A little odd, sure, but a good sort of odd. Not calling after this—it feels wrong. Call it gut instinct. He’s not the sort of guy to just pass something on via a friend. I think he’s hurt, or he’s blaming me. The only reason it happened was because he was on the phone to me. Otherwise he’d have been tucked up safe in the dressing room.”

  “Snorting cocaine off groupies’ naked tits.”

  “No!” She smacked his leg.

  “Oh, right. I forgot. He’s the pure one. The angel surrounded by darkness.” Ewan wiggled his fingers for emphasis, like that was supposed to signify black magical influence or something.

  Alle put her cup aside and wrapped her arms around herself, which was surprisingly comforting in Ewan’s cable knit. She knew he was only teasing to try and lighten her mood, but her insides were in too many knots for that. If only they’d actually seen one another in recent history, and their relationship was more defined. Then she could have called as many times as she liked and not felt awkward about doing so. She had sent a text – one single lousy one – even though Xane had sort of implied not to. Unsurprisingly, there’d been no reply.

  “Are you in the studio in the morning?” Ewan asked, irritably scratching at his beard and finding the cream decorating it. He wiped it off, which led to the cat trying to lick his fingers.

  “Last day with Ronnie,” she confirmed. “Then nothing until the arse end of next week, and that’s some local band.”

  “You know you don’t have to stay local for me anymore. I’m fine. Already plotting my next adventure, in fact.”

  “And when you go, who’s watching Malice?”

  Ewan’s lips pursed as he scratched his favourite moggy’s head.

  “Besides, I like it at DeathScythe. It’s a good atmosphere. And set up.”

  “But not yet attracting the calibre of groups you’re talented enough to be working with.”

  They would be, given time. “I’m doing all right,” she protested. She was. Okay, she’d not worked with anyone on par with Black Halo, but not every group could be world class, and actually, she probably got more input into the arrangements working with the newcomers, middle-grounders, and those on the fringes. After all, the fringes of society were always where the new waves started.

  “Go to bed, princess. I need to crash. Eight out of ten cats say Prince Almost Charming calls tomorrow.”

  After bending to give her a kiss, and clear the cups into the dishwasher, Ewan turned off all the lights bar the lamp, and went upstairs. Alle lingered in the armchair.

  It was twenty past four when she woke cold and stiff in the chair, Malice balanced on her shoulder, meowing pitifully into her ear.

  After letting her out and standing around to see if she wanted letting in again, Alle finally climbed the stairs and set her alarm for two hours’ time. Naturally, she made the mistake of checking her phone.

  Still nothing from Spook.

  She didn’t sleep another wink.

  -4-

  “Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me!”

  Spook was functioning on autopilot, one foot in front of the other, centre of the herd, eyes down, concentrating on the sensation of the glass clamped in his hand until Ash’s exclamation bludgeoned his ear
s. He looked up, far from alone in his reaction, to find the rest of Black Halo sneering and shooting death glares in one particular direction.

  He almost didn’t want to look, but it was always so damned hard not to stare at a road crash.

  Ava Leigh. Ava fucking Leigh. As Ash had so succinctly put it, someone was having a fucking laugh – a particularly cruel one at their expense. She and her employer, Bang! Magazine had been behind the exposé of the band last summer. The one that had led to Ash being labelled a druggy, Xane and Luthor both being outted as bi, and which had massively contributed to Elspeth’s exodus from the band. More importantly, and relevant to the current situation at the conclusion of a tour dedicated to Steve Matlock’s memory, was the fact that Ava’s reportage had dishonoured that memory by turning what had happened into a tawdry soap opera. There was no justifiable reason for her inclusion in this event. None.

  Little surprise then that Xane’s immediate response was to turn on their management, demanding an explanation.

  “What is that miserable cow doing here? She’s been out to destroy us ever since she failed to convince Ash and me to bone her.”

  “Oh, pipe down your ego, Xane.” Sally Kettering, their PR woman, waggled a finger in his face. “Bang! Magazine is massively influential. They have a huge online readership. Excluding them would be counterproductive.”

  “Do you think any of us give a fucking damn about that? Get rid of her.”

  There were rumbles of agreement from the rest of the guys. Spook certainly wasn’t interested in her prodding at his exposed underbelly.

  “Keep your voice down, and don’t be so ridiculous.” Sally leaned forward and tapped a nail against Xane’s bare chest. “Suck it up, playboy. I’m not asking you to screw her, just play nice and schmooze her along with the rest of these lovely people, okay?”

  Xane laughed in her face. “Play nice? Yeah, that’s totally what I’m known for.” His eyes narrowed, which, combined with his cat’s eye contact lenses, gave him a look that would have cowed a sensible person. Sally Kettering had never been that. She did take a pace backwards, which landed her on Rock Giant’s toes. The big guy gave her a nudge forward.

  “Honestly,” she huffed. “You’re all such drama queens. Just because she exposed a few truths you’d rather people didn’t know. You all live in the public eye, for heaven’s sakes. There’s no such thing as an entitlement to privacy. That, and if you don’t like what people dig up about you, then maybe you should refrain from providing them with juicy fodder to begin with.”

  “And I suppose juicy fodder is how you’d regard my recent experience at the arena,” Spook remarked, shocking them all with his words if the collective sounds of indrawn breaths were to be relied upon.

  “Of course not… That was… We’re all glad you weren’t hurt.”

  “Have you looked at his face?” Ash muttered. “You’ve a weird definition of unhurt.”

  Collectively, the group all seemed to draw a little closer to him, which had the regrettable effect of amplifying the shakes he thought he had under control. Dammit, the glass in his hand was empty. He needed another hit.

  “Not more seriously hurt,” Sally corrected herself, which failed to appease any of them. She waved her hands at them, as if she could shoo them backwards. “In any case, perhaps you haven’t noticed your album sales are soaring and your last single is still high in the download charts four months after release. Do you not think that’s even a little bit down to your notoriety? Bang! Magazine did you all a favour with that exposé. It got people invested in your stories.”

  “Unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable.” Xane turned his back on her and walked away, drawing the rest of the band along with him. “Guys, I’m thinking it’s time we considered a change of management. Buggers are supposed to work for us, not against us. I mean seriously. What are we doing here?”

  “You know Sally’s positively itching to spin what just happened to the press, don’t you?” Ash remarked, leaning in to Spook, as they took up a spot by the panoramic window overlooking the harbour full of anchored yachts.

  Spook clenched his fingers tight around the empty glass and bore the intrusion into his space.

  “Honestly, it wouldn’t surprise me to learn she had a hand in arranging Elspeth’s kiss ‘n’ tell exclusive.”

  “Let’s hope that’s not true,” said his fiancée as she snuggled into Ash’s side.

  “If it is, I’m going to string both her and Graham up by their fucking underwear,” Rock Giant muttered.

  Someone handed Spook another drink. It was noxious looking, with an umbrella in it and gold spray around the rim of the glass. He disposed of the decoration, and necked the contents, which left an unpleasant artificial strawberry taste on his tongue. The burn in his gut was sufficiently numbing though.

  “How about we all give Ava a wide berth,” Luthor suggested, shoving his long fringe back off his face, and demonstrating the clearest voice of reason. “We can discuss management another time, when we’re not all burned out from touring. And someplace there are fewer eavesdroppers.”

  “You’re suggesting we stick this out?” Rock Giant muttered. “Not sure I’m seeing the point. Who the hell even are these people? Bunch of suits I don’t give a shit about. Kind of feels like this shindig is a back-slapping exercise for them to celebrate a bunch of achievements they had fuck all to do with. Most of these gits wouldn’t even recognise our tunes if they were played to them. We’re just their golden ticket – the one that gets them a new Audi and yearly membership of the Old Gits Golf Club.”

  “Luthor’s right,” Ash said. “Switching management is a discussion for another day. It’s been a long year. It’s hardly surprising our tolerance for bullshit levels are at an all-time low. What do you say we all give it an hour?”

  “An hour of free cocktails doesn’t seem so bad,” Liam said, claiming another from off the tray of a passing waiter. Spook raised a brow, and it was promptly passed over.

  “What happens at the end of an hour?” Rock Giant asked.

  A bemused grin spread across Ash’s face. “I’ve no idea about you, big guy, but I’ve a sleepover booked with a gorgeous and mysterious lady on that yacht, right there—” He jabbed a finger against the glass. “The Andiamo, she’s called.”

  Xane clapped him on the back. “Sounds fun, but I’m pretty sure you mean a shag-athon with your fiancée.”

  “Watch it, Xane. Are you suggesting I’m not gorgeous or mysterious?” Ginny jabbed him in the stomach. She barely reached his nipples even in her heels.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  Ash’s lips quirked, but his expression seemed more wistful than amused. “I can’t deny that was what I had in mind when I booked it. After tonight, I reckon I’m good with snuggles and some decent shut-eye in a bed that isn’t a box. I’m all toured out.”

  Ginny looked less than pleased with that announcement.

  “Hey,” he pulled her back into an embrace. “I’m just saying maybe we’ll save the shagging for tomorrow and have a nice long lazy lie in bed.”

  “Babe,” she replied. “I’ve new fishnet stockings you haven’t seen, but sure, we can put that off until tomorrow.”

  That got a laugh all round, even Spook felt his lips tug upwards at the corners. Truth was they were all so easily manipulated, slaves to their desires. Except him. He couldn’t let himself slide down that slippery slope, no matter how hard Alle tugged on the rope she had wound around his neck.

  “Have you a new pair for him to admire for every day of our rest break?” Rock Giant enquired.

  Ginny tapped the side of her nose. “Wouldn’t you just like to know?”

  “What are you planning on doing, Spook?” Liam asked. He’d acquired another cocktail, actually two of them. One of which he rather expectantly handed over. It looked like a muddy puddle, and tasted of rum and orange.

  “Shagging the red-haired temptress that wants into his pants if he’s any sense.” Rock Giant
patted him on the back. “Reckon you’ll get a sympathy fuck off her no problem at the minute. Chicks get soppy over injuries.”

  “I can punch you if you want to test that out,” Spook suggested. Paul wasn’t to know he had no space for her in his head at the moment. On the other hand, there was an ache in his bones that punching something might fix. The snakes were back again too, slithering over his skin in a way that made him want to tear off his flesh.

  Paul squinted at him, while the rest of them laughed. All of them bar Xane, whose gaze slid over him in his typically perceptive way.

  “Do you wanna—” his friend began.

  “I want another one of these,” Spook announced, holding up his empty glass. He split off from the huddle in the direction of the bar. No, he did not what to effing talk. Not about what had happened at the arena, and especially not about Allegra. Förbaskat! He’d told Xane that already. There was no need for him to repeat himself. Twenty… forty minutes, whatever it was, hadn’t changed his mind on that point, nor would another forty or a hundred and forty. Not a thousand million and forty.

  Jaw clenched, he motored on to the bar.

  Xane caught up with him as he neared the highly polished counter. “Spook.” He swept a hand back through his black waist-length hair.

  “What?”

  The retort earned him a slow blink, and an even slower shake of the head. “Nothing. Get your drink.”

  -5-

  Xane sighed. Bloody Ava Leigh was stalking him. Every group he stopped to talk to, she immediately latched onto. Every time he moved anywhere, she was on his heels.

  The two times that hadn’t been the case, he’d had to stage a bit of drama in order to lure her back from cornering Spook instead. He couldn’t risk Ava getting near him, not when Spook was teetering on the edge of an emotional precipice. Not to mention completely rat-arsed by now. Luckily, Ava’s nose for a story meant she hadn’t been able to resist the lure of gasps when he’d flashed the record label’s European branch CEO a glimpse of his pierced nipples, or the whistles and catcalls when he’d snogged Luthor in full view of the room.