Chapter 15
Angus
I don’t know what feels worse—the things Jonny said or the fact that Ryleigh won’t even look at me. I’ve made a whole mess of my life, and it doesn’t look like there’s a way to fix any of it. Tate and Sam think Jonny will get over it but there’s a distance in the band that’s never been here before. Tate’s coming around, and while Sam and Mick are polite, they’re also not going out of their way to spend time with me.
It’s been a week since the news of my real identity broke and we haven’t partied together once. Everyone on the tour has noticed, and Bobby’s started hovering like a mother hen. I appreciate his loyalty, but he’s always known who I am. The others don’t seem to know exactly how to behave.
There have already been tons of opinion pieces out there about why the heir to the Holland-Burke dynasty is playing rock and roll, why I changed my name, and whether or not my father is financing the band.
Ryleigh’s interview will answer many of those questions but that probably won’t come out for a couple of months. I don’t know anything about her schedule or the publication dates, and I’m not in a position to ask either. I could probably ask Sasha to find out, but that’s not usually how it works.
In the meantime, I’m trying to navigate new territory with the band.
We’ve always been tight knit, our friendship trumping everything else. We’ve gone through a lot to get to where we are now, battling dozens of music industry hurdles. I thought we were solid.
Until I fucked it up.
What do I have to do to get us past this?
I don’t have any answers, which frustrates me because all I want is to figure out how to make Jonny and the others forgive me.
One good thing is that the guys from Nobody’s Fool have been polite, not showing any outward signs that they’re upset with me, but it’s hard to know for sure. My guess is that as long as it doesn’t impact the tour, they don’t care one way or the other.
Sasha has told me repeatedly that everything is going to be okay, but it doesn’t feel like it. I’ve never seen Jonny this upset about something, and the other guys are a lot more subdued than usual.
My family isn’t happy either, but they’re the least of my worries. They’re never happy with me, so that’s just par for the course.
This shit with the band hits harder.
I spend my nights alone now, in my room catching up on sleep or sometimes drinking with Bobby at the bar.
Ryleigh is keeping a wide berth, which is exactly what I wanted.
Except it’s not.
The memories of her screaming my name.
The look in her eyes as she deep throated me.
How it felt when her pussy squeezed my cock as she got off.
I jerk off to those memories every damn night, and it’s been impossible to stop thinking about her—and the night we spent together.
I want her.
Again.
More.
So much it’s driving me batshit crazy.
But for once in my life, I need to do something selfless.
Ryleigh doesn’t need to get caught up in my shit show of a life any more than she already is. She’s here to do a job, and I don’t want to do anything that might impact that.
Besides, I’m sure she hasn’t given me a second thought since I unceremoniously walked out after I fucked her.
Women don’t like that.
Hell, I don’t even really like it.
I was just a bit overwhelmed by how good it was.
And that doesn’t happen to me.
Well, it’s never happened before .
“Hello, mate.”
I’m sitting at the bar and Stu Killorn, Nobody’s Fool’s lead guitarist, sits down next to me. He’s Scottish and his accent is pretty thick, despite living in the US for almost a decade now.
“Hey, Stu.”
“How’s it going?” He searches my face carefully and I’m not sure whether he really wants to know or he’s just being polite.
“I guess it’s going.” I take a pull from my bottle of Sam Adams, since I figure I need to lay off the hard stuff.
“It’s been a tough week, yeah?” He motions to the bartender and orders a beer too.
“A little.”
“You need to talk?”
“I think I’ve said all there is to say.”
“I’ve been there, you know.” He stares straight ahead. “The scandal, the media coverage, the lot of it.”
I can’t compare my situation to his. He wound up serving prison time for something it turns out he didn’t even do. His band at the time dropped him like a hot potato and it took him several years to claw his way out of the darkness and back to rock and roll.
He’s married now, with a beautiful wife, a cute baby, and a band with a platinum album.
“Your situation was way worse,” I say diplomatically.
He waves an impatient hand. “Nah, don’t do that. I got myself into a mess, and that’s the same thing happening to you. It’s not a pissing contest to see who has it worse. I’m just trying to help. Give you a bit of perspective.”
As much as I hate to admit it, I could really use some.
“All right.”
“Look, it can and will blow over. The fans don’t give a shit, not based on what I’ve seen the last few shows. The response online isn’t terrible either, but at the end of the day, you don’t work for Holland-Burke, and you never have. They can hate your father—and your family—all they want, but you haven’t done anything. You were in college when your father pulled that shite with the chemo drug.”
“Yeah, but just the mention of our last name gets people pissed off.”
“Well, there’s a reason you legally changed your name—and from where I’m sitting, you changed your entire life at the same time. I don’t think you owe anyone anything.”
“Tell that to my band,” I mutter.
“They’ll be all right.”
“Tate and Sam, yes. Mick’s getting there. Jonny? Not even a little.”
He seems thoughtful. “Not everyone reacts the same, you know? He needs time. And you can’t stop trying.”
“Trying to what?” I ask in frustration. “Apologize? Act contrite? Grovel? I mean, what else can I do?”
“Show him who you are, mate. I don’t have a specific suggestion, but you don’t need to say you’re sorry, you have to show him. The opportunity will arise, and when it does, you’ll know.”
“But what if it doesn’t?”
He slaps my shoulder. “One way or another, it will. You’ll see. And if you need a friendly ear, or a drinking buddy, I’m always around.”
“Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”
He grins. “Like I said, I’ve been there. And I had no one back then. Part of it was because everyone turned on me, but I reacted by pushing everyone away. Just like you’re doing. You can’t sit here and brood by yourself every night. Reach out. Buy Tate a beer. Get Mick some of those damn Red Hots he likes so much. Yeah, it’s a small thing, but it shows you’re thinking about him. That you care.”
Mick is obsessed with the spicy candy, and he can’t always find them at rest stops. I might order him a case and have it waiting at the hotel when we get to St. Louis. “That’s a good idea.”
“I have them now and again.”
“I wish I’d done things differently, you know?”
“Hindsight is always twenty-twenty. I never should have let my mate drive my car the night of the accident. But I did. I can kick myself from now until Sunday, but he’s still dead and I still can’t time travel. The difference, of course, is that my current band knew the story from day one. I made it clear that they had to accept me for who I am as well as for who I was.”
“Yeah, that’s where I screwed up, I guess. I didn’t tell them who I was.”
“It won’t happen overnight, but I have faith you’ll work it out. The music is magical—so hang on to that. Sometimes it’s the only thing that gets us through the hard times. And believe me, we all have them.”
Before I can respond, I realize he’s already gone, and I’m left to my own devices.
But now I have a plan, or at least, the beginning of one.
It’s a steppingstone and I have no intention of stopping until I’ve built an entire fucking street.