CHAPTER ELEVEN #2
“There’s got to be more to this,” Max says. He’s frustrated Brett didn’t call him first, and I can see he’s trying to make sense of the situation.
The atmosphere in the room becomes sombre, but all we can do is sit around and wait. As time goes on, I become restless. Whatever Brett is playing at, treating us like fucking mugs is not helping.
Finally, the intro for Metallica’s Nothing Else Matters plays from Ash’s phone. He uses our favourite songs as ringtones, and this one belongs to Brett. “Hey, man.”
We don’t hear the response, but Ash puts him on speaker, I guess at Brett’s request.
“What’s going on?” Ash asks.
Brett sighs. “You know what’s going on. I’m fucking done.”
Jesus, his voice is pensive and, suddenly, I feel guilty for being angry.
“Why? Explain it to us.”
“Well, for starters, Raye left me for good this time. She can’t take my shit.”
Brett’s on-off girlfriend, Raye Summers, is in the band Pink Shimmer. I’m not surprised it’s finally over. Brett was never fully committed or faithful.
“I’m sorry to hear that, man, but that was always on the cards.” Ash’s tone is deep and gritty. “Is that your excuse for leaving us in the shit?”
“I need time.”
“We have time. Six months of it. How much more do you need?”
Ash and I exchange eye contact. This could get nasty.
“I don’t mean time off, I mean time to do what I want, which is why I’m leaving. You and Max write most of the songs. Tom and I add to them now and then. I want more than that. I want to do my own thing.”
This is not strictly true. Yeah, Ash and Max write the bones of our songs, but as a band, we finish the writing process together. Is he making excuses?
“What the fuck? You always have a say, Brett. We all pitch in together, you know that,” Ash says, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Max stands from his seat, raising his hand, and silently asks Ash to calm down.
“Brett, it’s Max.”
“Hey, man.”
“Don’t do this. If you want to write more, then write with us. There’s never been any hard or fast rules about how we put our songs together. We all have a choice, you know that.”
“No.”
The three of us look at each other. “Why not?” Max asks.
“I want to write for me, not anyone else. This is my time.”
His obnoxious attitude makes me question whether I want to fight for him. Brett has always thought he was the glue holding the band together. Now he’s showing his true colours.
“Brett, it’s Tommy. Why didn’t you talk to us about this before? Why now?”
“It’s always been in the back of my mind. The end of the tour just seemed right.”
“So, you’re done. Just like that. You’re like a brother to us, man. Don’t do this,” Max chokes.
“You three might be, but I was never part of your brotherhood. We want different things.”
“Now you’re just talking shit,” Max snaps. He’s obviously hurt.
“Brett, this is Bernie.”
“Hey, Bern. I’m sorry. You gave us our big break, put all your faith in us. I won’t forget that.”
Jesus. How dare he play the humble card.
“Can I ask one thing?” Bernie says with sadness in his tone. “Give it a few days. Wait until your head is straight and you’ve had time to think. Maybe we could come and see you.”
“No. That’s not what I want or need.” Brett sighs.
Dani shakes her head at his words and places her hand on her hips.
She’s gearing up to explode, but her dad raises his finger to his mouth, shaking his head.
She immediately backs down. Thank fuck. Brett and Dani have always had a fiery relationship, so fuck knows what she might have said.
“Okay. Understood. You’ve made your mind up,” Bernie adds. “But don’t burn your bridges, Brett. Just remember, we are your family and we’re here for you.”
“Fuck,” Max spits. “I don’t understand all this.” He gets up and paces the room.
“I’ve gotta go,” Brett says, avoiding a response to Bernie’s olive branch. “I just wanted you to know I’m not playing games. My statement goes ahead this morning at ten as planned. Go on without me, guys. It’s what I want.”
He cuts the call off. There’s nothing more we can do. At this moment in time, Koolum Law is falling apart.
Brett’s solicitor is a short guy; balding, with bright red cheeks. He looks out of place in a swarm of rock fans and reporters while he stands on the steps of his office.
“I will now read out a formal statement from Brett Richie. We will not be taking questions at this time.”
He clears his throat.
“To all the Koolum Law fans out there.
I’m a man of few words, so I’ll keep this statement short.
The past eleven years with the band have been the best of my life. We formed Koolum Law during our university years and took a chance together when an opportunity knocked at our door. We’ve lived in each other’s pockets, travelled the world, and have grown together as musicians.
As a band, we’ve played some of the biggest venues in the world, achieved so many of the highest accolades in the music industry today, and worked with the most incredibly talented artists. But there comes a time when you want different things. For me, that time is now.
My music is taking a different direction, so it is with sadness that I announce my decision to leave Koolum Law.
My love and thanks go out to our fans who have supported us this far. I hope you’ll continue to support the guys going forward with whatever they decide to do from here, and I also hope you’ll support me now with my decision to leave.
I’d like to thank our management team, Bernie and Dani Hill, at Election Management, along with our label, Election Records, for the opportunity of a lifetime.
I wish my brothers, Max, Ash, and Tommy, only the best for their future.
Thank you.”
“Is that it?” Dani says sarcastically. “What kind of statement was that?”
“Why didn’t we spot it?” Max says, staring into thin air. “We should have seen it coming.”
“We spotted it, Max, but we also put it down to Brett being Brett. He got away with too much.” I place my hand on his shoulder, glancing over at Ash.
“Maybe this is a sign to take things down a notch going forward. I’ve already decided to head back to Braebeach.
I think we should all go. We could take some time for ourselves, write a few songs, take it easy, and decide where to take the band from here.
What do you think?” I’m hopeful the guys will say yes.
“But what about Brett?” Max looks towards me. “We can’t just give up on him.”
“Drop it, Max. He’s made it clear he doesn’t want to be part of us anymore. No amount of talking will change that. He wants to go,” Ash replies.
Bernie clears his throat, reading the low mood of the room. “It’s going to take some time to re-adjust, make decisions, and plan your future. I take it you want to stay together?”
“I know I do,” Ash says.
“Absolutely fucking yes.” Max nods.
“Without a doubt,” I confirm.
Bernie almost smiles with relief. “Then how about I find you boys a place to rent in the middle of nowhere? It could be a more productive setting.”
It’s a good thought, but before I voice my opinion and let him know time with my son is a priority, Ash has another idea. “What if everyone stays with us in Braebeach instead?” Ash turns to me. “With the kids. All of us.”
I smile briefly because I sense Calla’s surprise.
“Sorry, baby, I know we haven’t talked about it, but I guess—”
She laughs. “It’s not a problem. The more the merrier.”
Ash winks her way, turning his wife to jelly. I love the way he still makes her blush after all this time.
“I’m in,” Max says.
“Awesome.” Ash grins.
Max is taking this hard, but I think he’s turning his hurt into Anger. Ash and I feel the same way. We’re fucking angry as hell, but we’re trying not to let it show. Ash’s plan is the perfect way to secure our bond so it’s stronger than ever.
“I guess you can cope with this lot hanging around your place.” Bernie smirks at Calla.
“There’s plenty of room, Bernie, which is a good job.” She smiles. “What about you, Tommy? Are you in?”
“My plan was always to go home. If you’re happy to have us stay with you, I think Oz would love that.”
Who knows, maybe Chelsea will miss our boy and want to visit.
I won’t hold my breath, although I should let her know I’m taking Ozzie back to the UK.
She’s bound to kick off just for the sake of it, but I’ll be ready for whatever shit she’s about to throw my way.
Jesus, I’m so ready to get away from New York.