21. Mai
Mai
Mai put a shaking hand up to her chest as she stared at the front door that Ford just stormed through.
He kissed her.
Her hand rose to her lips, which were slightly swollen. She had kissed other men in the sixteen years since she walked away from him, but nothing had ever felt like that.
Lifting her hand, she mopped at her tears trickling down her cheeks. She wouldn’t kid herself into thinking, not even for a second, that there was any love behind his kiss. The way he pushed her away after it. He still hated her.
A glint of metal by the baseboard caught her eye. Frowning, she bent down to see what it was.
Her heart stopped beating when her fingers closed around the silver ring. It had been half a lifetime since she’d last seen this ring, but she would recognise it anywhere.
It was Ford’s wedding ring.
Slumping to the floor, she pulled her knees into her chest and put her head down on them, gently rocking back and forth as she sobbed.
His visit was such a blur—him shouting, her shouting and swearing. It was so long since she'd allowed her temper to flare that badly, maybe the last time was when she had been with the band.
Since then, she’d cultivated a mild and meek personality.
Maisie Jones didn’t swear much.
Maisie Jones didn’t allow herself to become upset.
Maisie Jones always turned the other cheek.
Not Sie Harrington. Sie was a spitfire. She didn’t say a huge amount, but if she disagreed with you, you knew about it.
There had been so many stand-up rows before shows, with her firmly and loudly stating her opinion about how things should be: the set list order, the staging. She didn’t let herself be walked all over just because she was a girl.
The only thing she hadn’t been forthcoming about was her stage fright, and in hindsight, maybe her temper around the shows was her performance to hide her own fears.
Why did she shout at Ford?
She knew better.
Ford needed to vent, to release the anger that he felt toward her.
And now things between them had degenerated so much that he threw his ring onto the floor of her hallway.
She didn’t remember him throwing it down, but things were such a blur; he must have.
He was telling her once and for all that he was done with her.
The rational part of her brain tried to tell her that it was fair. He should be done with her.
Pushing those thoughts away, she allowed herself to sob and feel sorry for herself. She didn’t know what she had wanted to happen.
Well, maybe she did. She wanted his forgiveness.
Now that he was back in her life, she didn’t want to let him go. She wanted, she wanted—. Mai’s head came up, and she stared at the ring in the palm of her hand. She wanted everything she’d lost.
Not lost, she didn’t lose anything; she threw it away.
She had been such a fool, a hot-headed young woman who thought she had all the solutions, and what had she solved? Absolutely nothing. She’d messed her life up so badly.
Her mind prodded her a little, saying that wasn’t true.
She had done a lot of good things. She could recall so many of the babies that she’d worked hard to give their best chance at a normal life, and the families who gripped onto her hand as she gave them news about their tiny, vulnerable new family members.
She had a folder full of cards from these families. Some tragic—announcing funerals—but many, many more joyful, with photos of happy smiling toddlers who were alive because of her and her team’s hard work and dedication.
Mai allowed herself a few more minutes of self-pity before she wiped her eyes and got to her feet.
Pulling out her necklace, which she always wore hidden under her shirt, she undid the clasp and slid Ford’s ring onto the chain next to hers.
Then she tucked both of the silver bands back under her shirt.
He might not want it anymore, but she would never take it off.
It was all she had left now of their time together.
Walking slowly to her living room, she grabbed her laptop, then flopped down onto the sofa, setting the computer in her lap and opening the lid.
Sie was alive and well, and it was time to see if the rumour mills on the internet had picked up on it.
She typed ‘Sie Harrington’ into Google, and the first entry that came up was the band’s Wikipedia page. She clicked on it and scanned the information. There was mention of her as an original member of Midnight Thunder vanishing, but nothing about her now. She closed the article and kept scrolling.
And there it was, four pages deep into the Google search.
Two lines in an article about Taylor Anderson’s baby shower—she was secretly a little irritated that they hadn’t thought to mention Clara, the one actually carrying the baby—there was a line about a woman with a voice that caught Ford’s attention.
A voice that they likened to Sie Harrington.
Mai leaned her head back and looked at the ceiling. Was she ready for Sie Harrington to come back from the dead?
A big sigh escaped her. It didn’t matter if she was ready. It was coming for her.
Picking up her phone, she stared at it, debating with herself whether she was really about to do this. She went into her contacts, scrolling through until she found the one she was looking for.
Donnie.
Pressing call, she waited for him to answer.
“Sie, good to hear from you.”
“Hi Donnie. Ford just visited.”
“Okay,” her ex-manager said slowly.
“We had an argument. Can you check that he’s alright?”
“Sure. Are you okay?”
Mai took a couple of shaky breaths before she answered. “I’ve had a long time to get used to the life I live. Ford hasn’t.”
“No worries. Is that everything?”
Mai debated for a moment not saying anything, then steeled her nerves. “I think it’s going to get out to the press soon about who I am. Do you think we should get ahead of it?”
“Ahead? Like a press release?” Donnie questioned.
“Yeah. I don’t know. Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s not your problem. Anyway, can you check on Ford?”
“Of course. Give him time, Sie. It’s been a shock for all of us.”
“I know. Thanks, Donnie.” She squeezed the bridge of her nose. She shouldn’t have phoned him.
“I think a press release is a good idea,” Donnie said quietly.
“You do?” Mai was surprised. She half thought Donnie would tell her that she wasn’t a member of the band and that she was on her own to deal with the media, who were bound to come calling.
“Yes. I need to think about this. We have to spin this carefully, or the horde are going to come for you.”
Mai’s blood ran cold. When she left Midnight Thunder, they were well known locally, but now they were household names in every country in the world, with a dedicated following.
“Horde?” she croaked.
“Yeah. The paparazzi and the average Joe with a phone, looking to make a quick buck or five minutes of internet fame. Off the top of my head, I’m thinking we should imply that we’ve always known where you are but have been respecting your privacy.”
“Okay,” Mai agreed. Donnie had a brain for publicity; she had a brain for medicine, so she would go with his expertise.
“I need to speak to the rest of the band. Make sure they’re on board and happy to stick with this story. That we always knew and were letting you live the life you wanted.”
“Even Ryan?” Mai guessed from the interaction she witnessed backstage at the concert that there was a rift in the band.
“Bloody Ryan. Did Ford tell you he's taking a break from Midnight Thunder? And it’s because of that dickhead.”
Mai shook her head, then recalled that Donnie couldn’t see her. “No. Only what I heard at the concert.”
“Ryan’s still behaving like a teenager despite being nearly forty.
The mess you saw backstage before the show is pretty typical for him.
He doesn’t take any responsibility for the shit he gets himself into and is so far gone up his own arse that he can’t tell when people are trying to help him.
Ford has had enough of him. Scotty and Joel aren’t far behind. ”
“Oh!” They kept any sign of the band being at odds out of the media very successfully.
“Yeah, good thing Ryan is too much of an idiot to know what contract he’s on still,” Donnie muttered, and Mai was sure he'd forgotten he was talking to her.
“Donnie?” she questioned.
Donnie swore, “Shit. Right, um, yeah. Well—” he trailed off.
“What’s wrong with Ryan’s contract?”
Donnie didn’t speak for a long time, and Mai’s quick brain began to fill in the gaps. “Is he actually part of the band? Or is he still a session musician?”
“He’s part of the band,” Donnie said quickly. Maybe too quickly.
“Yes. I know that. But I’m asking you, is he legally part of the band?”
Donnie huffed a deep breath. “Ford, Joel and Scotty don’t know I did this.”
“What did you do?”
“When we replaced you, I never got a good feeling about Ryan. I made sure that the money side of things was split fairly, so you and Ford shared the songwriting portion, and Ryan got his fair share, the same as the rest of the band.”
“But?” Mai prompted.
“But, I got him to sign a sessional musician contract. With equal shares of everything compared to the other guys. But he’s never changed the contract.
He’s still just a sessional musician with Midnight Thunder, not a legal member,” Donnie said, his voice laced with something she thought might be guilt.
Their manager had always been a straight shooter. She had no idea he could be so underhanded.
“So they can drop him whenever they want, and he has no rights?”
“Yup,” Donnie confirmed.
Mai’s brain froze in shock, then she had another thought. “Am I still a legal member of the band?”
“Yes,” Donnie muttered.
“Oh shit.” Mai shot bolt upright. “What?”
“Yes," Donnie said louder. "The contract you signed meant you were only removed as a band member if you were replaced.”
Mai knew where this was going. “And Ryan never replaced me; he was just a sessional musician.”
“Yes,” the manager said.
“Shit,” she breathed. She’d left so long ago, and somehow, all this time, she’d been a member of a world-famous band.
“Ford won’t tour again if Ryan sticks around.”
“Right.” Mai squeezed her eyes closed, trying to ward off the impending headache.
“I’ve sent him to rehab. He usually lasts about two weeks before he decides to leave, but at least it gives us two weeks to discuss with the rest of the band what we’re going to do.”
“About the press release?” Mai queried, as it didn’t sound like that was what Donnie was talking about now.
“No. The future of the band. Now you’re back.” Donnie sounded so hopeful that Mai felt bad when she replied.
“Donnie. I’m not back. I’m living and working in Burra Creek. I’m not a member of Midnight Thunder.”
“Give it a bit of time. The boys will want you back. Even Ford.”
Mai laughed bitterly, her free hand pulling the necklace that now contained her and Ford’s wedding rings out from under her shirt. “Donnie. Ford will never want me back.”
“Let’s give it some time and revisit that statement,” Donnie said.
“I have a life. I’m not rejoining Midnight Thunder. I can’t.” Even thinking about performing with them gave her palpitations, the old stage fright about playing a stadium rearing at just the thought of it.
“You don’t need to work anymore. You’ve got enough money to last you fifty lifetimes.”
“Donnie. I know I don’t need to work anymore, but I’m not giving up my job. I like working. I make a difference.” She'd worked too hard to give it all away.
Donnie scoffed, and Mai’s anger began to rise. Was he putting her job down?
“You help, what, a handful of individuals. Your music, it’s touched millions. Hundreds of millions of people’s lives have changed because of your music. The messages of hope, love and life that you send them.”
Mai shook her head vigorously. “It’s not real. None of that is real. What I do every day is real. The babies I treat and their parents, they’re the ones who matter.”
“I’m not trying to minimise your job. I know it’s amazing. I’m trying to get you to think of things on a bigger scale. With Midnight Thunder, you could affect lives on a global scale.”
Mai thought for a moment about what he said, and a seed of an idea planted in the back of her mind. Maybe with all the money, she could start to affect lives, at least on a national level. She pushed that thought aside and refocused on Donnie.
“It doesn’t matter. Ford will never play with me again, even if I wanted to. So what are we going to do about the press release?”
“I’ll speak to the boys. Make sure they’re on board, but like I said, the best course is, we will address the rumours that Sie Harrington has been spotted, and confirm that this is the case, then we’ll imply we’ve known all along where you are and have supported you in being a private citizen and request that your privacy is respected. ”
“Will we need to release any photos?” Mai couldn’t think of anything worse than photos of her being plastered everywhere.
“Yeah. We should release one. It’ll decrease the desire for people to get a photo of you if they have something official from us.”
“Fine,” Mai sighed, her mind already whirling. The fans of Midnight Thunder would want to see Sie Harrington, not Maisie Jones, so she was going to give them the rock chick they wanted.
“I’ll talk to Ford, Scotty and Joel and let you know.”
“Thanks, Donnie. I appreciate this.”
“No problems. Talk soon, Sie. Bye.”
“Bye.” Mai hung up and threw her phone down on the sofa next to her.
Shit, this is not what she wanted. She didn’t want to be resurrecting a young woman who she left behind, but the alternative was to show the whole world who she was now, and she didn’t want to do that either.
Grabbing her phone, she opened a web browser, searching for a long, dark wig.