22. Ford
Ford
Ford slammed the door of his rental car.
“Fuck.” He pounded his fists on the steering wheel.
What the hell just happened?
He’d kissed Sie; that’s what just happened. Then fought with her.
His lip quirked up as he recalled her shouting at him. That was the Sie he remembered. She was mild most of the time, but piss her off, and she wasn’t afraid to tell you. She always held her own around the band.
“Fuck,” he yelled and punched the steering wheel again.
Ford jumped when there was a tap on his window. Steve, the neighbour, stood there, a look of concern on his face. Shit, he didn’t need the police called on him. Putting his game face on, he wound down the window.
“Everything okay?” Steve asked. Worry clear in his voice and on his pinched face. “I was coming back from getting the paper and couldn’t help but hear you.”
Ford sighed in relief. At least Steve hadn’t overheard them arguing. He figured the old man would have phoned the police if he had, as the walls sounded thin between their houses.
“Yeah. Sorry. I hadn’t seen Si- Mai, in a long time. It brought up some things for me.” Ford plastered a smile onto his face, the same smile he used in hour six of interviews, when he would much rather be at home in bed.
“Yes. I can understand how she would bring up old feelings. She’s the whole parcel that young lady. Smart, kind, talented.”
Ford added in his head, beautiful. And only just stopped himself from swearing again. He was not going to think about her that way.
She left him.
She could be the most stunning woman on the planet, and it wouldn’t change the way he felt about her.
In love, a voice whispered in his ear.
Ford almost glanced over his shoulder to see who was in the back of his car, but didn’t, as he knew the voice was internal. After all this time, and everything she'd done, if someone asked if he still loved her, he didn’t think, if he was being honest, that he could deny it.
Squeezing his eyes closed, Ford steadied his breathing.
He still fucking loved her, after everything she did to him.
Fuck.
“Yeah. I’d better head out. I’m sure-“ Ford hesitated before he said her new name, it sounded so alien to him. “Mai will come and see you later.”
“She will. She’s a good neighbour. Nice to meet you, Graham.” Steve stuck his hand through the window, and Ford reached out and took it.
“You too, Steve.”
“It really is uncanny how much you resemble Ford.” Steve didn’t let go of his hand and examined Midnight Thunder’s frontman again.
“One of those faces, Steve.” Ford gave him a well-practised, easy smile.
“Hmmm.” Steve released his hand and stepped back from the car.
Ford started the engine and pulled away from the curb, giving a wave as he left.
The old man stood watching him until he was out of sight.
Ford paced nervously around the house he was renting as he waited for Donnie and the band to arrive. The original band, not Ryan, who was tucked up somewhere in Switzerland in an eye-wateringly expensive rehab facility. He was waiting for Scotty, Joel and Sie.
He stopped pacing to stare at Sie’s guitar that sat on a stand in the corner of the room. It had been his anchor in so many dark moments, as apart from her notebooks, it was the only thing he had left of her. And now he needed to give it back.
Picking it up, he began to play. Quietly singing along as he strummed Summer Days, the song that set him and Midnight Thunder on the crazy ride that was their lives.
He closed his eyes and lost himself in the melody, his mind back in her childhood bedroom as they made out whenever they could, and wrote music when her parents insisted that the door was open.
A car pulling up in front of the house had him placing the guitar carefully back on its stand. He turned to the door, checking his reflection in the glass and tousling his already tousled hair before he pulled it open.
He huffed when he saw it was Joel, Scotty and Donnie.
Fuck, he wanted to see Sie.
She was all he could think about since their argument. He wished he hadn’t gone over there and yelled at her, but he hadn’t known what else to do.
“G’day,” he called out to the men who shared the wild ride of fame with him, and Donnie, who was always there to steer the ship.
“Mate. You found Sie! I can’t believe it,” Scotty yelled out in return as he rounded the car.
Ford lifted an eyebrow and glanced at Donnie; it appeared their manager had been a little silent about his ‘guiding hand’ in finding their long-lost member.
“Donnie found her,” he stated flatly and glared at the other man, who grinned ruefully.
‘It doesn’t matter who found her. I can’t believe she’s alive! I thought for sure that for her to have left Ford behind, something awful must have happened to her,” Joel said as he grabbed his suitcase out of the back of the car.
“Yeah. Those two were disgustingly in love,” Scotty said as he strolled up the steps and slung his arm around Ford’s shoulders.
“Young love is weird.” Ford shrugged and gave Scotty a pat on the back.
It had been years since he’d had the opportunity to be with his friends without Ryan there to cause trouble, and for the first time in a long time, they didn’t irritate him on sight.
Maybe his annoyance with Joel and Scotty was more to do with Ryan than with the men who had been his friends for his whole life.
“Come on in. Make yourselves at home. Help yourself to anything out of the fridge. There are three spare rooms, so chuck your bags in whichever you want.” Ford stepped out of Scotty’s embrace and held the door open for his bandmates and manager.
“What time is Sie getting here?” Scotty asked Donnie as he strolled in the door.
“She should be here soon,” Donnie answered, his eyes flickering to Ford, who made sure he kept his face a blank mask. “A car picked her up about thirty minutes ago.”
Ford’s heart thumped. Kissing her was a huge mistake; once his lips touched hers, it was like coming home again. All the feelings he’d spent so long suppressing were becoming harder and harder to ignore.
He shoved the need for her down. She left him. He wouldn’t go running back to her the moment she came back into his life.
“Got any beers, mate?” Joel asked as he threw his bag down and wandered over to the fridge.
“Yeah. Help yourself.” Ford gestured towards the fridge that his friend was already rifling through. Glad to change the topic from Sie, he didn’t want to think about her.
But even as he told himself that, his eyes slipped back to the front windows of the house, searching the long drive to see if her car was approaching.
“Do you want a beer?” Joel asked the room in general.
Ford felt a little irritated when Scotty immediately said yes. It was only eleven in the morning, and they were cracking into the beers.
He caught Donnie’s eyes, who must have noticed the frown on Ford’s face, as their manager shook his head at Ford, warning him not to say anything to the others. To leave them alone to drink in the morning if they wanted to.
Ford had to look away. He was desperate to numb his feelings with alcohol.
But after his last stint in rehab, he'd made a rule for himself: no day drinking, which he needed to stick to, however much he wanted a beer right now. And alcohol would be a bad idea around Sie. He didn’t want to drop his inhibitions.
“Cheers, mate,” Scotty popped the top of his can and took a loud sip.
“So what’s the plan?” Joel asked as he threw himself onto the sofa, getting comfortable.
Donnie was all business. “I’ve got the photographer coming at two this arvo. That’ll give you guys a couple of hours to chat and catch up. I’ve got the shed out back set up with drums and your instruments, so if you fancy playing, you can.”
Ford blinked in surprise. When had that happened?
His gaze swung to Donnie, who kept his expression very innocent and didn’t answer the question in Ford’s eyes.
“This is photos only, and we’ll put a statement out to accompany them.” Donnie reached down and pulled his laptop out of his bag. “I’ve got a copy of it here for you all to look at.”
He held the computer out to Ford, who took it and sat down, reading what Donnie wanted to tell the public.
‘Midnight Thunder would like to make a statement about their ‘lost member’, Sie Harrington, as rumours have recently surfaced that she is living in a small town in Australia.
‘The truth is, Sie was never lost. She decided after the death of her parents that she did not want to pursue a career with Midnight Thunder; instead, she wanted to live her life as a private citizen. We have supported her through this endeavour of living her life out of the limelight. And would ask you to respect her decision going forward.’
Ford scoffed.
Never lost!
He lost her.
He was ripped apart by her disappearance, and Donnie wanted to explain it all in two short paragraphs.
Throwing the laptop down onto the sofa, he glared at his manager.
“Really? We sweep this under the rug?” he spat.
“What do you want to say to the fans, then?” Donnie’s voice didn’t even rise as he was used to dealing with temperamental musicians. It would take more than a small temper tantrum to faze him.
“I—“ Ford hesitated. What did he want made public?
Donnie didn’t let him talk, instead ploughing on.
“Do you want me to say that it ripped the heart out of the band? That we nearly lost you to drugs because of it. That you were gunning for a while to be a member of the twenty-seven club because you lost the love of your life. Because you lost your wife.” His eyes widened after he said that last sentence.
He obviously hadn’t meant to drop the news to the other band members.
“She was your wife?” Scotty swung his legs off the coffee table and leapt to his feet.
“Yes,” Ford muttered. “She still is,” he added.
“Shit. Why didn’t you tell us? Fuck, you guys got married?” Joel was on his feet too, taking a big swig of his beer, as he shook his head at Ford, disappointment shining in his eyes.
“Yeah.” Ford sighed, and his shoulders slumped. “You’re right, Donnie. If Scotty and Joel agree, the statement is exactly what should be said.”
“Married,” Joel prompted.
Ford opened his mouth to answer, but a soft female voice, one that he would recognise anywhere, spoke before he could.
“We were young and in love.”
Ford swung around to face the door. Sie had arrived while he was distracted with their statement.
And she looked—Christ, she looked like he always thought she would.
She wore black jeans, black baseball boots, and a black singlet that showed off her pale arms, which clearly never saw the sun.
Her eyes were ringed with eyeliner, just like she used to wear.
But it was her hair that arrested his gaze.
The blonde curls had been replaced with long, straight black hair.
The Sie he spent so many nights searching for in the crowd at their shows was standing in front of him.
He couldn’t stop his legs when they strode over to her, and before his brain caught up, he was right in her personal space, reaching out to touch her hair.
Her wide violet eyes shot up to his, and they gazed at each other.