Chapter 5
“Sierra, I need the numbers and performance data of the last video ads uploaded on all four media spots.”
I watch her walk over to her desk in those seamless bum leggings that are selling like mad in my online stores. The number of women I see in my gyms across England wearing them is absolutely bonking amazing.
“Hayes?” I look up to see my business partner, Liam, standing by the office door. “You’ve got a few visitors at the reception asking for you.”
I look at my watch and then at Sierra.
“I thought we canceled the endorsement for Max Ultra-Hydrate. What are they doing here?
“We did. They shouldn’t be here.”
“Um, Hayes,” Liam says cautiously, and a tinge of reluctance laces his voice. “It isn’t them.”
I look at him and cock my head curiously at him.
“It’s uh .. Jagger and Asher, your ex-bandmates from Sonic Revolution.”
It’s been years since anyone used that name to compare my past. I’ve done well to cast off my old teenage pop star image and reinvented myself into an online fitness retailer with twenty-six successfully running sports clubs all over England.
I’d like to call myself the Fitness Mafia King, but that would be too pompous. So, I reserve it as a playful moniker confined to the realm of my internal ego.
“Show them to the conference room,” I say, cringing at the old band name. It’s not a past I’d like to reminisce. The last time I saw them was at Asher’s mum’s funeral, and I attended out of respect. They’re both brill lads, and sometimes I do miss their company, but they remind me of a past I want to forget.
“Callum is also here. With them,” Liam says quietly, knowing my antagonistic feelings towards my younger brother.
Who doesn’t know about the fallout with my brother? I publicly wrote him off after his third stint at rehab. He was so slaughtered that he didn’t even realize our nan had passed until after her funeral when he appeared at our family home high on whatever the fuck he was on, asking why everyone was wearing black at a party at eleven in the morning. I threw him out before Mum caught sight of him, which almost triggered another bout of depression for her, especially given her fragile emotional state following her mother”s recent passing.
Callum is the last person I want to see.
“How is he?” I ask Liam. I don’t care about my brother, but I don’t want to deal with the bastard when he’s off his rockers high or on the piss.
He shrugs his shoulders.
“Dunno. He looks like he’s got more piercings and ink than when I last saw him.” I sigh at the image. “But he seems sober, mate,” Liam assures and disappears before I get the chance to tell him to deny their entry.
Turning to Sierra, she smirks and pushes the data sheet against my chest.
“I’ve emailed the analysis to you. And before you ask. I have better things to do than get involved with old bandmate business. If you don’t want your brother here, you’ll have to do it yourself. I’ve seen him perform in a couple pubs around Barnet on weekends. He’s still pretty good and seems sober to me.”
I look at her dismissively.
“You know you’re my PA. You’re supposed to make my life easier. Not complicate it,” I say, knowing I’m on a losing streak with her.
“That’s right, your PA, not your family counselor. Your bloody problem is that you hire people to sort out your problems. But this is one no one’s going to touch. He’s family. The other two are too.” She storms out of the office, leaving me with nothing but solid dread.
I”m not too fond of confrontation.
“Hello, fellas,” I say, forcing a smile at the two men and avoiding my brother with every inch of nerve in my body.
I give him a silent snarl.
Talk about nerves. Callum’s got a helluva lot of them showing his wanking face here.
Taking a seat by the table, I casually sit down to avoid any kind of friendly hug or handshake.
“The woman in the reception called you Hayes. When did you change your name back?” Callum asks, and I’m forced to look at him.
“Hayes is my birth name.”
He sneers, “I know that knobhead. I also know you hated it.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Callum. It’s been, what? Eight years since we’ve had any contact. What are you doing here now?”
Jagger shifts in his seat. “Mate—”
“Maybe if you gave a fuck what I’ve been doing these last few years…” Callum interjects, stopping whatever Jagger just tried to say.
“Maybe I have no interest in knowing what my junkie sibling is up to.”
“Arse—”
“That’s enough!” Jagger stands up, cutting us both off. “This isn’t why we’re here. Callum’s been in remission for years now. And I believe him when he says he’s clean. So keep whatever previous thoughts you have of him to yourself. He’s come a long way since.”
I bite my lower lip to avoid the snarl, just edging its way up my mouth.
“No offense, Jagger,” I say, feeling super awkward with all three blokes in this room. “But why are you three here?”
“Because he wants us to start a band,” Callum throws in with a smirk that’s laced with so much self-arrogance, I’d like to smack that grin off his face.
I recall his words and try to string some meaning to them.
“What the fuck is he on about?” I ask Jagger, ignoring my annoying twat of a brother.
He’s probably hallucinating.
“A decade has passed. Enough time for people to forget what happened and for us to gather the magic we once had.”
If there was ever a time for a jaw-dropping moment, this is it.
“Are you completely bonkers?” I stare at Jagger incredulously.
“That’s exactly what I told him,” Callum says with another shit-eating grin that I’d like to wipe off his face. “I told him on the way here, you’re too far up your fitness bum leggings to remember how to string a guitar note, let alone sing a tune. You’d never agree to return to music.”
I sneer at my brother. “You know nothing about what I’d do.”
“So it’s something you’d be willing to explore?” Jagger asks, eagerly surprised.
“Of course not,” I reply quickly. “Why would you think I’d be even remotely interested in going back to a life that nearly destroyed us?”
I finally observe my brother more carefully. He’s grown his hair since we last saw each other, and although it’s blonde like mine, it’s styled unruly, with some of the ends dyed in a red color that’s now partially faded. He’s got two new eyebrow piercings and finished the scorpion neck ink he started years ago. Both his hands are inked as well.
If he’s trying to look like a has-been rocker, he’s certainly achieved it.
“Well, nearly destroyed us,” I elaborate, giving my brother a dismissive glance. “Can’t really speak on his behalf.”
Callum huffs a sarcastic laugh, but I know I pulled a chord with his nerves. Rather than spit out some insult to me, he turns to the other two, dismissing me.
“Told you he wouldn’t even give you the time of day. Brother dearest lost his thrill; must be all those milkshakes he’s been drinking.”
“Protein shakes, you bellend,” I say, but I know Callum’s only trying to rile me up. I don’t even know why I bother with him.
“Because we were kids back then,” Jagger ignores my sibling tiff. “Teenagers with a dream, and we didn’t get to achieve it because we were too young and immature to deal with our problems. Music was always in your blood, just as it was in ours. I know you’re doing well with your fitness empire, and we’re proud of you.”
Jagger’s eyes gleam with a mixture of determination and a subtle plea as he leans forward.
The silence between us speaks volumes, carrying the weight of a decade”s worth of missed chords and unsung lyrics.
“Haze,” Asher begins, his voice a low hum in the room. ”Do you remember the days when our music echoed through every vein in our body? The energy, the passion, the raw magic we created together?”
My gaze softens, memories of those vibrant jamming sessions flood back. This room seems to reverberate with the ghostly echoes of our shared past.
“Those were the days, mate,” Asher continues, a wistful smile playing on his lips. ”We were unstoppable. The stage was our playground, and the music was our language. It wasn”t just about the fame or the crowds; it was about the love for the music, the friendship we shared.”
I sigh a mixture of nostalgia and regret lingering in the air.
“Things changed, Ash. Life happened.”
”Life happened, but the music is still alive in us,” Jagger insists. I watch Asher’s fingers idly strumming the table. ”I can”t shake the feeling that there”s more music left in us, more stories to tell. The world needs to hear it, Haze, and I can”t imagine creating it with anyone else but you lads.”
”We were more than just a band,” Jagger presses on. ”We were friends, brothers bound by the love for music. I miss those moments, those spontaneous jam sessions where everything just clicked. Don”t you miss it too?”
A glimmer of longing flashes in my chest. The memories of our shared laughter, the thrill of a perfectly executed riff, and the unspoken understanding between musical kindred spirits stir within me.
”Let”s give it one more shot, Haze,” Jagger urges, his voice earnest. ”Not for the fame or the fortune, but for the love of the music, the memories we cherish, and the potential of creating something beautiful once again.”
The room seems to hold its breath, waiting for my reply as my decision lingers.
“You talking about the original Sonics? Because I don’t think—”
“Nah,” Jagger interrupts. “New group, new songs, our way this time. The five of us.”
I take a deep breath at the number he’s just mentioned as my eyes widen. The memory of a name that belongs to a ghost of my past I’d rather forget.
“You’ve seen her?”
They know who I’m referring to as I see all three men grimace at the same time.
“No,” Jagger replies with pursed lips. “None of us know where she is. But I have a plan. If we’re going to approach her, it’s better if we do it together. This time, it’s all professional; we’re all grown-ups, aware of the mistakes we made.”
“Why would you even want to include her after what she did?” I stare at him with a subtle eye roll, unwilling to go down that particular memory lane.
“Because she’s the link to our music,” Jagger says. “Fuck it. She was eighteen and thrust into the media wolves alone. Our publicists tainted her as the black sheep to save the band. She was fired from the record label. We were her boyfriends, fucking swore that we’d never leave her if our relationship came out. So where the fuck were we when all this came crashing on her?”
“We were recording our new album. How the fuck did we know she wouldn’t turn up? This isn’t on us,” I say sternly. No fucking way am I taking any responsibility for what she did.
“But did she know that?” Asher asks. “According to the tabloids, she left her property two days after the media cried a scandal and never returned. By the time we realized what was happening and flew back to LA, her locks were changed, and a sale banner was already up on her property. The Vixens claimed to not know anything about her whereabouts and were fucking livid with us. They believed we were the ones who leaked the video.”
“But we didn’t, so that only leads to her,” I firmly conclude.
“Okay, we all agreed that maybe she leaked a video because you know how desperate she was to lose that image which the record label and Oliver insisted she keep. She was under contract to maintain her look. She couldn’t even gain or lose a fucking kilo,” Asher explains. “Maybe she thought an illicit video like that would elevate her to a less rosy kind of image, a dark one perhaps, but regardless, it backfired, and she went running. She was probably scared of the backlash it caused and maybe of us too.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Jagger says sternly. “This isn’t about rekindling any past emotions. That’s dead and buried. We want Eden Rivers as our lead vocals and lyrics co-writer. That’s all.”
I observe Jagger; he always had trust issues before Eden. He was the first to admit his crush on her and the last to enter our menage with her. Her final betrayal pushed him to disappear to the Middle East and Africa for five years to try and get rid of her memory.
Probably worked, too, because I can’t trace an ounce of longing for her lingering on him.
Asher was always quietest between us four, but he’s also the most sensitive and prone to heartbreak. He’s locked up his emotions well, but like Jagger, he seems to have moved on.
My brother’s the weakest link. I’ve seen the fury in his eyes at the mention of her name. If anyone still holds emotions, it’s him. He’s volatile. He might be in remission, but I don’t trust anything he says.
Eden Rivers may have broken me, but my brother is responsible for the stone heart I’ve adopted. I had to. Otherwise, he would have dragged me down that spiraling, never-ending black hole with him.
“What if we don’t find her?” I ask Jagger. “What if we do, and she wants nothing to do with us?” Because I’m pretty sure the latter will ring true. She disappeared for a reason, and I doubt she wants to launch a career she’s hidden from for ten years.
“Then we continue making music,” Jagger replies, confident this could work.
“Are we involving Oliver?”
“If he wants to be on board this venture, we will let him manage us. But on our terms. We only need his contacts to the labels.”
“Even if he agrees to manage us,” I look at Jagger and Asher. “We need a sponsor to finance the sample tracks. I doubt he’d be willing to invest in us this time round. The four of us are closing in on 30.”
“Speak for yourself,” Callum adds. “I’m 27. You’re the oldest in the group.”
I snigger at him. “When was the last time you used a gym?”
“I don’t need some posh arse gym to keep fit,” he replies with a kind of casual confidence that grates on my nerves. “Nor am I some vain wanker who needs the approval of millions of online likes to feel good about their physique.”
“Tut-tut,” I dismiss him without wanting to elaborate further.
“If Oliver won’t fund us, then we’ll find a sponsor,” Jagger interjects to the obvious blood boiling between me and my younger idiot sibling.
“Hayes Evans Fitness could be the sponsor,” I suggest. Then again, do I want to associate the business I worked my arse off to support this mad venture?
“Scratch that,” I say, rethinking my previous statement. “I’ll finance this venture without my brand’s name or image. But I’ll own fifty percent of the band’s revenue.”
“No, f’ing way,” Jagger draws his lips to a straight, firm line.
I push my chair back.
“Then I’ll show you fellas to the door.”
“Bullocks!” Callum blurts out, and I roll my eyes. What in the blazing hell has he got to say that’s of any worth?
“You wouldn’t have offered to finance if you weren’t even the slightest bit interested. Please don’t make it out like this is some savvy business deal. You’re eager to play again just like the other two are, and there’s that lingering curiosity about what’s become of her.”
“What a load of tosh,” I say, this time avoiding the eye roll as I refuse to acknowledge my wanker brother might be a little correct.
“I want fifty percent of the band’s revenue.”
“This isn’t about money, Haze.”
“Do you know how much I’m worth?” I stare at Jagger with a firm face. “This means leaving this company to run without me for an infinite amount of time. Possibly having to cancel some endorsements. That’s a loss of massive income, right there.”
“We can hire another rhythm guitarist. Eden was good with a guitar, and we don’t need a third person for vocals anyway,” Callum expresses his fuckery, and I watch the other two contemplate what he says.
“Fuck’s sake. You need me!” I say, not liking where this is going.
“Not when you’re going to own us,” Asher says, adding to their obvious gameplay. “I’d rather sell my flat. I can get a cool million for it in this seller’s market.”
“The café’s doing extremely well, and I’m sure Abby would get a loan to buy me out,” Jagger adds.
“I haven’t got much to add,” Callum interjects. “I blew most of my earnings on shit and blow years ago, and then there were the posh rehab bills, but I’m willing to do whatever extra legwork necessary to cut costs,” he says and winks at me, knowing that admitting his faults only makes me look like a bastard if I point them out.
“You’re as useless as the letter g in the word lasagna,” I mutter under my breath.
“Want to say that a bit louder, bruv?” He eyes me straight, “People who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.”
I sigh heavily and turn to Jagger.
“I have a business to run.”
“You have a competent business partner to manage your end who could hire a manager if need be,” Jagger explains. “I said the same excuses to Abby, and she shut me down fast.”
The air hangs heavy with anticipation in this dimly lit conference room, bathed in the soft glow of a single overhead lamp. All six eyes are fixed on me, their expressions a mix of curiosity and anxiety. I clasp my hands together, fingers intertwining in a subconscious struggle for resolution.
The three men exchange subtle glances, exchanging unspoken thoughts as they await my verdict.
Finally, taking a deep breath, I break the silence.
“I’ll privately finance everything, but I want thirty-five percent of gross earnings.”
“Twenty-five,” Jagger confirms. “We’re also leaving shit behind. We need to make this worthwhile for us too.”
“Fine, Twenty-five. I will use the name Haze in the music industry and manage Callum’s earnings. There’s no way I’m entering any venture and agreement with him and risking the fitness business.
I address him directly, “One sign of reckless behavior or substance abuse and you’re fired from the band. You know I’m good with my word. I’m just making sure you remain straight.”
“No fucking way, arsehole!”
I look directly at him. Years ago, there were so many things I wanted to say to him.
“You had the world on a string, but you couldn’t hold it together, so you fucked it up. I’m protecting my interests, which means ensuring you need to stay on the straight and narrow.”
His jaw twitches with irritation as he slowly swallows my words.
“Callum,” Asher says calmly. “As much as we believe you aren’t going back to your old ways, there will be temptations. Haze is only looking out for you. I believe he’s also good on his word.”
This isn’t about hating my brother or having one over him. I walked away from my responsibilities years ago, leaving him to sort himself out. This time, I need to keep my eye out for him. He’s an arsehole, but he’s also my younger and only sibling. Deep down, that guilt I have for walking away will eat at me if I don’t look out for him this time.
“So you want me to submit to a conservatorship?”
“Yes.”
His eyebrows knit together, creating a deep furrowed brow.
“Sod it, minging arsehole.”
I watch my brother get up and storm out.
Jagger holds his hand out to stop me from getting up.
“You’ll only make it worse. Let me handle Callum. You sort out your affairs here with the business and look to get us out to LA by next week. There’s no point trying to get an appointment with Oliver. It’ll be months before he has the time to see us. The four of us need to show up at his office. Could we get a PA sorted out for the band?”
“Would Sierra do? I could get an assistant to help her with the day-to-day business here.”
“Fine by me.”
Fuck.
A surge of sudden regret races through me as the weight of this decision settles in my mind. The gravity of the daunting journey that lies ahead has me grappling with a visceral mix of anxiety, remorse, and an immense sense of uncertainty.
What the bloody hell have I just committed to?