Chapter 8
It’s been ten bloody years, and we’re about to see the girl who destroyed our band, our music, and almost ourselves.
And, for some reason, my heart can’t stop beating like crazy, almost as if it wants to break free from my chest and run off before she comes inside and marks herself on it.
I stand up and pace the room. I feel someone else doing the same.
We hear the footsteps approaching the door. A mixture of human and pattering of what I assume is a dog. There”s a sudden bark and growl.
“Down boy,” she says firmly. It’s my first time hearing her voice in person after a decade. It’s become deeper, more velvety smooth. Or was it always like this?
Catalina appears from nowhere and approaches the door as it opens, her stumpy frame blocking the view.
First, a dog enters, a German shepherd and Catalina takes the leash and leads the animal inside.
And then….
Dammit.
Here she is, standing at the door frame, bathed in the warm glow of the sunlight filtering in behind her.
Different but almost the same.
Fuck, I’m standing here like a right git, in silence, captivated by the sight of a stunning woman.
She was a teenager the last time I saw her, but now she’s all a woman. As she enters, she kicks the door closed behind her and throws her handbag on a leather bench next to the door.
Her physique is similar to how she was, just filled out a little with more womanly curves. Ones, I’d fucking love to reintroduce myself too.
Oh, for the love of humanity!
I need to stop.
“Eden,” one of the guys says. I’m unsure who spoke because I’m focused on the dark-haired beauty before me.
Her once long blonde hair is still the same length, if not longer, but the color’s a dark brown, almost black, contrasting sharply with those mesmerizing bright green eyes. Her fair skin is now honey-tanned as if she’s spent a lot of time outdoors in the desert.
“Boys,” she acknowledges us with that familiar voice I remember so well. I wonder if she’s kept that strong Brooklyn accent she used to have. The one our publicist told her was revolting and even forced her to have speech classes so she would drop it when she spoke in public.
“Your hair’s so much different,” Jagger says, his voice softer than usual. “You look good, Eden.”
She remains poker-faced. She’s not about to reveal anything about herself.
“It’s her natural color,” I say. We all knew blonde was a color they insisted she keep. I remember how she once suffered a scalp burn. One can only imagine the amount of chemicals needed to get her dark roots to the blonde shade they wanted her in.
She strolls closer to us, eyeing each one carefully, silently scrutinizing us.
There’s no missing the black ink on her tanned skin, either. I don’t want to stare, but I can’t help noticing the different-sized stars that playfully grace her right shoulder and dip into a design into her back neck, while in the front, it falls into some florals that peak out from the neckline of her sleeveless top.
She’s wearing a fitted black vest, and her round breasts look impressive against her tiny waist, making them look larger than they are. My eyes quickly travel south as I don’t want to be caught gaping at her. Her curves are accentuated by the fitted, faded black denim jeans that sit low on her waist while a black belt with an antique silver skull decorates the buckle.
Fucking phenomenal.
“You’re not here to discuss my hair color,” she retorts. “I already know why you’re here. I want to know what possessed you to think you could just come and invade my life after so long.”
“Why did you disappear, Eddie?” Asher asks. Just like my thoughts earlier, Asher let our affectionate name slip for her.
She recoils, and I’m not sure if it’s the question or the name he just used.
“You threatened my best friend, then come here to invade my life after ten years to ask why I left?”
Her eyes are wide, and her lips pout angrily. I can see that she has never lost that fiery side of herself. It was always cute and sexy, but now there’s a tinge of lethal danger in it. Maybe it’s this dark look she’s sporting, but I fucking love it.
“We weren’t in LA when news broke out. Trust me, Eden, we would have immediately been by your side.”
A mixture of skepticism and suspicion is etched across her face. Her emerald green eyes, always warm and inviting, now harbor a glint of doubt as they narrow ever so slightly.
“Jagger’s right,” I blurt out before she can rebuke him. “We were called back to London and told you’d be joining us after an interview appointment you had with some teenage fashion magazine. The place we were taken to was one of those retreats that had no wifi or phone service. We had no contact with the outside world. Oliver wanted us to focus on the next album without distractions, but by day three, we became suspicious when you never showed.”
“That’s when we started to worry that something may have happened to you,” Asher adds. “Days had passed when the story about all five of us broke out to the media, but we didn’t have access to our mobiles or the outside world until after we quit the property.”
“As soon as we got cell service, our mobiles blew up,” Jagger takes over. “Only then did we see your messages among the hundreds of others. Haze and I were on the next flight to LA when you didn’t respond to our calls, and your service provider informed us that you had canceled your mobile account. We assumed you were bombarded by the press, so you closed the line. Never did we expect that you’d disappear into thin air. Callum and Ash flew over a day after us. We hounded the Vixens for info about your whereabouts but were met with so much vengeful hate. Lea even had a court order thrown at us so that we wouldn’t approach her again because we threatened to harm her.”
“But you did threaten to harm her, asshole,” Eden mutters, furrowing her brows at Jagger, reminding me of the sort of cunts we were to her friends. But we were so desperate to find her, and our frustration got the better of us.
“We had no choice, princess,” I assert, not just in defense of Jagger but for all of us, the unintended endearment escaping my lips. “You severely underestimated the feelings we had for you. The only mistake we made was when it became clear you were determined to remain hidden; we gave up too fast. But we were young, maybe immature, and confused about what was happening back then. Being older and some of us a little wiser…”
I avoid looking at my brother, “We should have made more of an effort, but we were scared to, just like you—”
“Except, we didn’t fuck off like you did,” Callum interjects. “We stayed, weathered the storm. Some of us emerged unscathed; others didn’t fare too well from the damage.”
My gaze shifts to my brother, and a pang of remorse stirs within. Regardless of the shit he threw at me back then and the number of times he lied about getting clean, I should have been there for him. He’s an angry lad but also prone to self-destruct when his emotions get the best of him.
It dawns on me that as much as I won’t succumb to self-blame for what happened to Callum, acknowledging that he bears sole responsibility for his actions, I also recognize that I should have remained by his side. Offering a supportive shoulder might not have changed his choices, but I should have been there nonetheless.
But would he have cleaned up his act had I made it easy for him?
He very obviously seems on the straight and narrow, but that element of distrust lingers on my conscience. That cynicism sits right up there with the regret I have of turning my back and closing every door I could on his face.
“We didn’t know Eddie,” Asher says. “It’s the truth, luv.”
“Except Oliver and the publicists did,” I add, not wanting to revisit this shit again, but we never had proper closure with Eden about this. “They had a heads up from the press. So they threw you in the line of fire and protected us. Someone had to take the fall, and they believed to let you have it. It took a while for us to figure it out, but when we did, we had a good word with Oliver.”
“And rearranged his face,” Callum adds with pride. Maybe we all feel a little proud for shoving it into that bastard.
“And then he fired all of us. Threw us to the curb. Sonics became history. Except now we have this against him. If his publicity stunt comes out, no band would want to trust him or work with him. He’s just returned to Tone Wars for another two seasons after stepping down for two years to focus on some new project he’s got going. If it gets out that he was flipping playing with the careers of winning contestants from the show, he’ll be publicly shunned and thrown off a show he was the original mastermind of.”
“It was ten years ago,” Eden remains stoic. Once prone to curving into a trusting smile, her lips now maintain a thin and tight line. “Why are you telling me all this?”
“Because he’s agreed to manage us again.”
Her eyes blow up wide with disbelief.
Seeing her reaction, I open my mouth, but Jagger beats me to it.
“He has industry contacts. Record labels open doors for him. We’ve been gone far too long for anyone to give us a chance without him. He can make mountains move for us.”
“And you want me part of this new venture,” she states as a matter of fact. “Why me, after all these years?”
Despite the attempt to mask her emotions, I quickly pick up on the subtle cues that betray her lack of faith in what we’re telling her. The furrowed brows, guarded posture, and restrained nature of her response collectively paint a portrait of a woman deeply skeptical of our words and suspicious of our underlying intentions.
“Because the connection we shared was like no other we’ve ever had,” Jagger explains. “We made music, and the world spun around our feet. Remember the gigs we played together? The energy, the connection with the audience? You were a huge part of that, darling. This time, though, we’re older and smarter and doing things our way. Oliver’s agreed to give us a chance.”
She crosses her arms defensively over her chest, creating a barrier as if to shield herself from potential deception.
“Why would I ever trust you again?” She lets her arms down and rests a hand on her forehead.
“Scratch that,” she adds quickly, casting us all a skeptical once over. “Why the fuck would I ever want to have anything the fuck to do with you again? All four of you betrayed me, and I let my guard down and trusted you.”
She gazes at us, and I watch her demeanor change from zero to a hundred in the space of seconds.
“I’ve heard you. Now get the fuck out of my home, you fucking perverts,” the contours of her face form an intricate dance of defiance. “The only thing you have is a talent for is porn videos. You only need me for some publicity stunt. Bring back the whore and then dump her when her cunt goes dry. How many more copies of that video do you have up your goddamn sleeves? You think you can come here and lure me on some sentimental memory lane, and I’d jump into your beds for another video. Fuck you, assholes.”
The venom spitting out from her mouth leaves me stunned for words.
“Oh, you have a lot of nerve, you daft cow,” Callum retorts sharply, and before I can intervene, he moves swiftly, closing the distance with her in an instant.
“I’m sorry I offended you with my common sense, dickhead.” Eden tilts her head up and stares him straight in the eye.
“I’m so done explaining what happened, and not once did you ever apologize for what you did. You think your career was ruined? We were never the same after you fled. So you tried to change your image with that video, but it backfired. Boo-fucking-hoo. Did you ever bloody ask us if we wanted to be in that stunt of yours? But we faced the drama, the press hounding us all the while nursing a fucking big hole in our chests created by you, siren. I’m done with you!”
“Good for you! I hope karma slaps you in the face before I do!” Eden retaliates bitterly.
She inches even closer, mirroring the same fierce anger as Callum. “I was finished with you the moment I realized you released it to get me fired from the band. You were always the loudest about not wanting me in the group in the first place. Always adamant that a woman had no place with the Sonics. So you planted this video and threw me to the wolves.”
Hold-on. What?
“Whoa, stop right there!” Asher and Jagger step between them.
“I think you’re both talking about two different things on the same topic and haven’t even realized it.”
They both turn to us, and Callum immediately steps back, realizing he needs to tone down his frustration. He licks his top lip and then bites down on his lower lip piercing to ground himself as his eyes burn into Eden.
He’s pissed off. We all are, but after what she’s just revealed, we realized how bad the five of us still are with communication.
“You think we secretly made that video?” Asher asks, and I can see the pain all over his face.
“Well, I certainly didn’t. So that leaves it to one of you,” she says, dragging her eyes away from the fixed angry stare she has on Callum.
“You had more of a reason, princess,” I retort. “You hated how they were controlling us. But they forced a lot more shite on the girls. Don’t pretend you had nothing to do with tainting that sweet Cinderella story they spun the public with. You hated it more than anything.”
She takes a step back to distance herself from all of us. It’s a little painful to watch her want nothing to do with us, especially when we once shared a closeness with her that we never had with any other girl.
“Screw you, Haze,” she spits out angrily. “I would never have betrayed you like that.”
“Nor us with you, darling. So that’s why you left. You thought we did you dirty.”
She shifts her weight subtly, a subconscious attempt to maintain control. There’s more to why she fled, and she has no intention of letting up.
Damn it! Why couldn’t I see it before? Eden’s never been shy of confrontation. She’d bulldoze any of us down if she thought one of us had something to do with the video. Seeing her face up against Callum just now tells me she was never afraid of us.
Eden’s not a tiny woman, but compared to us lads, we can be pretty intimidating, yet she’s never been shy about expressing her fiery side to us.
“Music’s in your blood, luv,” I say. “There’s no bloody way you got scared of a video surfacing you in a bad light. Even if you couldn’t continue as front woman, you would have found a way to continue making music. You have a talent for songs; you would have worked behind the scenes for other musicians, yet you chose this solitary lifestyle.”
“Yeah,” Callum adds. “So this is your chance. Our chance to make music together all over again. Relight that magical flame we had as a team.”
Not exactly where I was going with this but I can see Eden’s face softening.
“I can’t trust you,” she persists. “We can’t work in a team because I can’t trust you.”
“I get that. But take our word at face value. We had nothing to do with that video.”
“If you didn’t and I didn’t, then who did?” she says, and I see her beginning to close herself off again as she takes a step away from us.
“Eden,” I catch her attention. There won’t be an affectionate name here because I’m serious about what I have to say.
“I don’t know what’s up with all the security inside and outside this property, but there’s more to why you left LA, and that’s okay if you don’t want to tell us. But we are serious about the music. Just music. That’s all we want.
“Your isolation here probably didn’t make you aware that our old single Shadow’s Solitude was covered by a new musician and hit the number one British charts for several weeks in a row.”
“And it’s god awful,” one of the lads adds.
I chuckle, “Yeah, it is. Unfortunately, the gyms’ DJs have to play it on a loop.” I roll my eyes.
“Gyms?” Eden asks curiously.
“Yeah, that’s a discussion for another time.”
“How have you not heard about this single?” I ask curiously. “You and Brittney still talk. She handles all your royalty checks. I would have assumed she told you about it.”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but all talk about you, and our old music has been banned, and my royalty checks are donated to a specific charity.”
She’s buried everything about her past.
“Is that why there’s nothing in this room that indicates Eden Rivers, the legendary musician, lives here besides your guitar and music sheets?”
“My guitar was the only thing I took when I left LA with Catalina.”
“And Storm,” she adds. “I picked him up at the dog shelter the same day I drove out.”
I turn and see Asher crouching on the floor next to the dog, which has already warmed up to the bastard.
“He’s got arthritis on his back hips. That’s why you take him to get physio,” he says as he pats the dog and whispers something in his ear. The dog makes a low-pitched sigh as if he’s responding to whatever Asher is saying.
Bloody dog whisperer in the literal sense.
“Storm doesn’t usually take to strangers. And how do you know about his arthritis?”
“Because Asher has a unique ability to communicate with dogs more than he can with humans,” Callum says with a hint of sarcasm.
Asher remains by the dog but looks up at him with a raised brow and turns his attention back to the dog.
”I make a connection to canines based on understanding and trust. And the fact that I volunteered for years at a dog shelter back home.”
Even though Eden remains a passive stance, I catch a flicker of warmth that passes through her for a split second as her eyes remain fixed on Asher. It’s quick, so I don’t know if the other two caught it.
“So what do you say, Eden? Wipe the slate clean? Join us on this new venture.”
She raises a brow at me.
“What if I don’t agree? Will you still make your music?”
“It won’t be the same, Eddie,” Asher says, getting up. “The magic we made was with you, and it would be a huge shame you let this opportunity pass u. But the four of us are itching to get back into the studio, and that’s where we’ll be headed after this. The rental lease for Haze’s old place in Brentwood ended last month, and the couple living there moved out. It has five bedrooms, and Sierra had it furnished for us in no time. One bedroom is yours if you want it.”
“Sierra?” she flickers her eyes at him. I’d love to know what she’s thinking.
“My PA, back in England. She’ll be helping us out remotely while we’re out here.”
“So?” Jagger asks while we all eagerly await her reply.
Gone is that irritation on her face.
“No,” she says bluntly, much to my sudden feeling of disappointment. “I have no interest in playing music or starting any new venture with you. So I’d prefer it if you just left.”
“Eden, don’t bullshit us,” I say, quickly jumping to change her mind. “There were five music journals on that armchair before Catalina scooped them up.
I sing out the first verse of the song I found in her journal. The one I know affected her more than the other songs.
“Stop it!” she angrily barks, tension building quite fast between us, but I need to break her and convince her it”s for the best that she considers our offer.
“That song is about us,” I retort. “It’s the pain you felt of betrayal. Trust me, Eden, I have the same trust issues as you. But I’m here because I want to make music again, not to recreate something that obviously never worked. We were never meant to get into a relationship, but shit happened and we did. I don’t want to rehash a relationship with you. I want to play music with you.”
Her eyes widened like a surprised owl.
“So you’re saying if I agree to this, it’s just music?”
“Eden.”
We all turn to Catalina, whose voice suddenly bursts into the room from nowhere.
“You know you cannot go back to LA,” she says to her. “You might as well tell them the truth and stop stringing them on.”
Eden painfully looks away from us.
“Eden can never return to LA, so you’ll all have to leave now.”
What the bloody fuck?
“You should go,” Eden asserts firmly, regaining her composure.
I can’t help but wonder what it is that keeps her away? She seemed genuinely interested for a split second until Catalina reminded her of something.