6. Othelia
Chapter six
Othelia
I groan as I wake in the fluffiest bed I’ve ever been in. I sigh in sweet relief at the glass of orange juice and Tylenol waiting for me on the side table, and down two tablets and most of the juice before dragging my hungover ass out of bed and into the bathroom.
Washing my hands, I make the mistake of looking up. The face looking back at me is not what I expected: my eyes are puffy and red from hours spent crying. The dark circles under them that are usually prominent after a long night of performing are now so dark they make my skin look unnaturally pale. A far cry from the rockstar that graced international stages just days ago, but at least my outside matches my shattered insides.
I snatch up my phone and collapse into the soft pile of pillows. As I power it back on, a swarm of notifications instantly fills my inbox. After Clay’s thirty-seventh message last night, I thought it was best to switch it off before it ended up in the bottom of Lennon’s pool.
I swipe to delete the new messages from Clay. Nothing he can say can repair what he broke in me yesterday and I’m in no state to even entertain the idea of having a rational conversation with him.
I debate calling Sloane, but the time difference means she’ll still probably be in bed. I shoot off a quick text letting her know as briefly as I can what has happened and I’m changing my flight to this afternoon, if they are cool with me bombarding them a week early.
The smell of bacon drags me from my cloud cocoon and I shuffle toward it, praying for greasy goodness.
“Hey there, sweet thing.” Charlie smacks my ass as she skips past me, wrapping her arms around Lennon, who looks far more put together than I could even imagine as he works on flipping pancakes on the stove. His hand reaches back and rubs her ass through her jeans.
“Too early for your cheeriness,” I groan as I flop onto a stool at the breakfast bar, resting my head on the cool granite.
Lennon chuckles as he pushes a plate of eggs, bacon, pancakes and toast to me, before grabbing a slice of bacon, leaning against the counter as he eats it. “What’s the plan?”
I pick at a piece of bacon that minutes ago seemed like heaven but now just tastes like ash. “I don’t know.” I shrug. “At this stage, I’m going to head to Chicago. Rian and Sloane are expecting me next week, anyway. I’ll just spend the week eating ice-cream and distracting myself with baby stuff, maybe catch one of Rian’s games. I just need to be as far away from LA as I can get. Take some time to figure out long-term plans.”
“You know, you’re always welcome to stay here, but I understand your need to get out of the city.” Charlie leans against Lennon. “OK, what do you need us to do?” she says, clapping her hands together.
“Don't hate me,” I plead. If I lost these people, I wouldn’t survive.
Charlie’s hands fall to her side and tears well in her eyes. “Why the fuck would we hate you?”
Trace and Jericho pop in through the glass sliding door after being outside swimming. Jericho is still drying his hair, water dripping off his body and onto the oak floor.
Charlie leans across the counter, gripping my hands, mouthing, “ never,” as the guys bicker.
“DUDE! You’re all fucking wet!” Lennon yells, tossing a dish towel at Jericho who snatches it out of midair, shoving it down his pants and rubbing it on his junk before sending it flying back in Lennon’s direction. Reflexes not quite as sharp, the towel flutters open before, in what feels like slow motion, it covers Lennon’s face.
“OH GOD! Fuck!” he cries out. Ruckus laughter breaks out across the room by everyone except Lennon, who runs his face under the faucet. “I can fucking taste your ball juice, Jericho!”
“Ball juice!” Charlie wheezes, doubling over and clutching her stomach as she laughs so hard tears form. I can’t help but smile at my crazy, chosen family.
Jericho reaches over to steal some bacon off my plate, smirking at Lennon as he continues shooting daggers in Jericho’s direction. “Anytime you wanna taste my ball juice, you just let me know!”
“Speaking of ball juice,” Charlie cuts in before cringing at the segue. “Not the way I was hoping to do this…” She looks up at Lennon and I swear little hearts fly out of their eyes. “We were going to wait for Tilly to get back from Chicago before telling you all, but I think maybe we need some good news.”
Lennon steps forward, moving aside his flannel shirt to pull a picture out of the back pocket of his jeans, sliding it along the counter towards the three of us standing on the other side.
“I’m gonna be a dad,” Lennon announces.
Our jaws hit the floor. I didn’t even know they were thinking about kids.
Trace is the first one of us to recover. “Fucking A, a new little drummer to join the tour!” He races around the island to pick Charlie up, spinning her in a crushing hug.
“Dude, you’re all wet,” Charlie giggles before he places her gently back on the ground, her pink sundress now covered in wet patches.
A pride shines in Lennon’s eyes as he leans against the counter watching Charlie.
“She’s gonna make a much better singer than drummer,” I say, joining him. A huge smile lights up both of our faces. Reaching up onto my toes, I give him the biggest hug I can muster. Even though my heart is shattered into a million pieces, this news clicks one part of it back into place. “Congratulations, Papa,” I whisper in his ear.
His face drops and he scrubs his hand over his face. “I’m so fucking nervous. There are so many ways I could fuck this up.”
I tilt my head. “You’re kidding, right? You have literally been the dad of the band since we got together. You always have our back and you’re always making sure those two don’t do stupid shit.”
I expect him to laugh or at least smile, like I do whenever I think about all the trouble we have gotten up to over the last decade—like the time Jericho and Trace got arrested for running through Times Square naked on New Year’s Eve—but his face seems to fall further.
“I’m sorry I didn’t do more to protect you.” He doesn’t have to say anything else. I know he’s kicking himself for not stepping in and calling Clay out on his bullshit. For not trying harder to get me to see how badly he was treating me. As much as I wish I could put the fault on someone else, the only person left to blame is me.
Deep down, I always knew I deserved more, but I wasn’t ready to take off my rose-colored glasses. God knows how long I would have kept them on if Clay didn’t rip them off me yesterday.
At this moment, nothing I say will make him feel any less guilty. Lennon loves fiercely and with all his heart. So instead of telling him how I feel, I press the side of my face over his heart and hug him tighter.
My phone buzzes with an incoming message and Lennon clears his throat. “It’s Sloane,” I tell him. “I messaged her before I came down.” Giving me a slight head tilt, he gestures for me to answer it.
“Tilly… help. Save me from Jer’s ball juice,” Charlie squeals and my lips tip up in a smile while Lennon’s press into a flat line.
“Go, save her,” I laugh. “I’m gonna take this.”
He nods, knowing I need my other best friend right now. Moving back into the kitchen, I hear him groan at Jericho. “I swear to God, Jer, if your ball juice touches my wife, you will never play guitar again.” Their banter dulls as I move out onto the patio, collapsing on a lounge chair as I unlock my phone.
Best SIL EVER
I am going to punch him in the dick.
A sobbing laugh escapes me as Sloane’s anger reaches me across the county.
Hottest Rockstar
Good morning to you, Sloaney
I’m not even sure where to begin explaining how messed up the last twenty-four hours have been.
Her answering gif of a kid hitting his dad’s junk with a wiffle bat makes me burst out with laughter. She always knows exactly what I need.
Hottest Rockstar
How could I have been so stupid?
Leaning forward, I cover my face with my hands as I weep. I knew talking to Sloane would bring it all back out again. She’s been my person for so long, my sounding board whenever I have new ideas, and my rock whenever life falls apart.
Best SIL EVER
Hey! That’s my best friend you’re talking about.
You were in love. That’s what we do when we love someone unconditionally.
When I don’t reply straight away, my phone vibrates in my hand again.
Best SIL EVER
You are the best human, Til.You always see the good in everyone.You make people happy, even if it’s you that gets hurt.
He didn’t deserve your heart,or the light you bring into the world.
Now you need to get your ass on a plane and come home to us.
Tears pour down my face. Even after everything with Clay, I’m surrounded by amazing people that accept every part of me.
Hottest Rockstar
I’ll organize a flight and be there as soon as I can.
Best SIL EVER
Good, ’cause honestly,I have been going through a pint of ice-cream a day and it wouldbe much less pathetic if I had anactual reason to be eating it.
I snort a laugh, wiping my face and inhaling a lungful of the sea air, the sound of waves crashing against the beach surrounds.
Best SIL EVER
There is a pint of cookies and creamin the freezer with your name on it.
Like literally with your name on it. Rian wrote it with sharpie so therewould be one left when you got here.
When a photo of a Ben and Jerry’s tub with OTHELIA written in block letters pops up, I can’t stop the smile across my face.
Hottest Rockstar
Sometimes he’s a good brother.
A voice memo comes through a few seconds later. When I click play, Rian’s voice echoes across the patio. “Uh, I think you mean all the time I am the absolute best brother.”
I react to it with an eye roll.
Best SIL EVER
Text me your flight details andRian will meet you.
Hottest Rockstar
Love you, Bitch
Best SIL EVER
Love you too, Jerk
Rian is there waiting for me at the airport when I land. As promised, I had texted him with my flight details before I left.
He leans against a pillar in workout shorts, a team t-shirt, and his favorite damn Nike slides—the guy goes just about everywhere in them. His shaggy blond hair is half tied up in a bun on top of his head and his eyes brighten as they see me approach. His smile softens as he opens his arms for me, wrapping me in a hug when I reach him.
“Tilly I’m so—” I don’t give him a chance to finish, throwing both hands out to stop his crushing grip.
“Stop, please don’t bring him up. I’m barely hanging on and if you keep hugging me, I will sob uncontrollably in the middle of the airport.”
His eyes widen, but he slowly nods. “Sloane is dying to see you.” His grin returns at the mention of his wife.
Dominic pushes my single bag behind me with the basic things I took on the tour. I had debated going back to the cottage, but the wound was too fresh to chance running into him.
As I left, Lennon offered to go with the boys to pack up my things and organize storage for them, but I haven’t decided if I’ll take them up on it yet.
“What the fuck was he thinking?” Rian asks, shaking his head.
“Yeah… I would have asked, but I got distracted by his dick entering someone that wasn’t me.”
His body stiffens for a second, but then he stops me by placing his hand on my elbow, before breaking into fits of laughter.
“I’m sorry, I’m trying to deal with this seriously, but oh my God.” His laughter is contagious and before I know it, I’m laughing too. Rian’s always had a way of making me laugh at the worst times; it’s definitely his superpower.
We thankfully make it to his truck without anyone recognizing me. Dom jumps into the back seat after we disagree on the merits of shotgun.
Rian tears out of the parking lot and heads towards home. I watch the city move by, not happy to be back, but looking forward to reuniting with Sloane and being far away from LA and Clay.
“Oh, did I mention Mom’s over?” he asks, refusing to look my way
My head snaps to him. “Seriously, Serena is there! Fucking great!” I whine, slumping back in my seat.
“Sorry, Till. She stopped by and I mentioned I was picking you up. She said she would stay with Sloane and keep her company while I was gone, then she mentioned food, and that’s Sloane’s freaking kryptonite right now.”
Instantly, I feel guilty. I know Rian has a much better relationship with our mother than I ever have. She and I don’t agree on anything. No matter the subject, she always thinks the opposite to me. Not to mention the never-ending comments about my body, choice of career and how I choose to live my life.
Rian has always been the golden child. Star NHL player drafted second overall. I’m the disappointment she refuses to acknowledge exists.
No matter how successful I become, it’s never been enough. So instead of constantly disagreeing, we decided, without actually declaring, that we just wouldn’t bother to have anything to do with each other. Life is easier that way.
The rest of the drive is quiet. I hum along to the songs, trying to clear the mess of my brain before the inevitable shit storm I’m about to walk into.
I groan as we pull up, hesitating before opening the car door. I see Serena waiting for us at the doorway, her anger already radiating off her. Her crisp navy pantsuit isn’t making her feel any less intimidating.
“Really, Othelia, could you not have ordered a car to pick you up instead of dragging Rian away from poor Sloane to come and get you? The world really doesn’t stop whenever you put yourself in situations you need rescuing from.”
My eyebrows raise as I freeze in the driveway. I can’t even make it to the door before the attacks begin. Sloane winces as she comes into view, her pink and purple hair tied up in a messy ponytail that makes her look more like an anime character than an expectant mother.
“I didn’t ask Rian, Mother . He offered.”
“Yes, he offered, because he is a good brother. Isn’t that what the help is for?” She gestures to Dominic who’s standing behind me with my luggage.
I grimace when I turn to him, mouthing, “ sorry . ” He gives a subtle shake of his head as he hands me my bag.
I walk past my mother to give Sloane a hug. She ignores my dismissal, instead choosing to check her reflection in the mirror, readjusting her coat and scarf before lashing back at me again.
“Such a disappointment to this family. Now it’s all over the news that you were seen in France drunk and hanging off a bunch of drop kicks, you and that Jericho, causing so much drama for everyone around you.”
I stop part way up the stairs and turn to face her. “What are you talking about?”
Sloane steps forward, running a hand down her swollen belly, a look of concern crossing her face. “Clay went to the press, claiming you cheated on him with Jericho and that you have spent the last few months drunk off your ass across Europe.”
My eyes widen as I drag my sunglasses down my face. “You have got to be kidding me.”
Sloane doesn’t reply, just shakes her head in disbelief. Standing next to me, Rian looks like someone just kicked his puppy.
“Well, I’m not surprised.” All our heads swivel to look at my mother standing there like a statue, white hair expertly pulled back in a chignon, her signature look, designer Gucci bag and Versace sunglasses, lips pursed into a scowl. If she actually smiled, I’d be concerned her face might carve in two, shattering into chunks of marble. “I’m surprised it took Clay so long to realize he deserved to be treated better. What with you spending your life gallivanting around the world, throwing parties and sleeping with God knows who?”
The room goes silent. Everyone in this room except her knows I would never cheat on anyone.
I feel my blood boil. How dare she accuse me of things she knows nothing about? I step down the stairs back towards her. Rian instinctively steps between us, like I might actually lose my shit and kill her this time.
“I’m a musician, Mother. I don’t throw parties. They are concerts and people pay a lot of money to see me perform. I work my ass off to be damn good at what I do.” My voice sounds firmer than the tremor I can feel moving through my body, but the rage makes my hands shake.
“Yes, well, it’s no wonder Clay felt the need to look elsewhere, with you being so occupied with your career.” The sneer in the way she says career is my final straw.
“Mom, that’s enough,” Rian says, trying to herd her towards her car.
“Okay, okay.” Serena puts her hands up in surrender. “I’m just saying, if she put in half as much effort into her appearance as she does spending time with those vagrants, then maybe Clay would be satisfied and proud to be in a relationship with her.”
She adjusts her bag on her shoulder, taking a few steps out the door. Glancing back at me, she digs the knife in a little more. “Maybe this should be a lesson, Othelia. Men aren’t interested in girls who are overweight and dress like whores. Maybe if you find someone else, you will think twice about the way you treat him.”
The door slams shut behind her, but as usual, the damage of her words slices deep within my heart.