Thirty-Three
Ashley stood in front of the cracked mirror in the green room, pulling her leather jacket on over her shoulders.
Her reflection looked hollowed out. Outside, three thousand fans were already chanting Ashley’s name, their collective stomping vibrating right through the concrete floor and into the soles of her boots.
She still hadn’t heard a peep from Molly. Every time she checked her phone, the blank lock screen felt like a physical slap.
‘It’s mine, Elena!’ Toby suddenly hissed from across the room. ‘I left it plugged into my side of the sofa! You can’t just yank it out and claim it’s communal property because your phone died!’
Ashley’s eyes were already rolling.
Jax, Toby, and Elena were standing in a tight, tense triangle near the snack table. Toby was glaring down at a tangled white USB cable in his hand, his chest heaving, while Elena stood with her arms crossed, her jaw set tight.
‘It was sitting in an empty socket!’ Elena shot back, stepping into his space. ‘It’s a piece of plastic, Toby, not your family heirloom!’
Jax watched the two of them squabble over the wire, rubbing the bridge of their nose in sheer, unadulterated exhaustion.
‘Right,’ Jax said, setting their bass down against an amplifier with a heavy thump that instantly silenced the room. ‘We’re doing this now. Before we step onto that stage.’
Toby crossed his arms tightly over his chest, his knuckles white. ‘Doing what?’
‘The truth,’ Jax said flatly. ‘Because I am sick to death of the whispering, the passive-aggressive texting, and the fact that we are all sleeping with each other and pretending we’re not.’
Elena let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. ‘Excuse me? I’m not pretending anything. You’re the one who told me you weren’t seeing Toby anymore!’
‘And you told me you were completely over Elena!’ Toby rounded on Jax, his voice cracking slightly. ‘We talked about a mini-break in Venice!’
‘You talked about the mini-break, and I know full well if I didn’t go, she would be,’ Jax said, jerking a thumb at Elena. ‘But that is completely beside the point. The point is this: we are a logistical nightmare.’
‘I’m perfectly happy,’ Elena said. ‘It’s you two being the drama queens.’
‘You sent me a picture of my toothbrush the other day and told me to leave Jax alone,’ Toby pointed out. He turned to Jax with fear in his eyes. ‘The threat was implied.’
‘Look at us!’ Jax gestured wildly between the three of them. ‘None of us belong together! In no shape or form does any of this work.’
Ashley watched them from the mirror, her head throbbing. ‘Can you three please schedule your polyamorous collapse for after the encore?’
‘No,’ Toby said. ‘Because I love them.’
‘Who?’ Ashley asked, though she was well past caring.
‘Everyone.’
‘You love drama,’ Jax corrected calmly. ‘Which is why, as of right now, all romantic, sexual, and semi-emotional ties between the three of us are officially severed. We are a band. That’s it. If anyone tries to kiss anyone after the gig, I am throwing them into the crowd.’
Elena huffed, crossing her arms and turning her back. ‘Fine. You can have him.’
Jax tutted. ‘I don’t bloody want him, you nutjob!’
Toby’s shoulders slumped.
‘Because you want me?’ Elena asked, turning back.
‘NO!’ Jax roared.
Toby looked at Elena, a question in his eyes.
Elena considered, then smiled. ‘No. This is boring now.’
Toby shook his head. ‘I’m so fucking sick of this. It’s over.’
‘Yes, we know,’ Jax said, exhausted.
Before Ashley could even absorb the surreal absurdity of their breakup, the green room door swung open, and Simon stepped in.
He looked, as always, polished and smug. He beamed at Ashley. ‘There she is!’ he boomed, completely oblivious to the radioactive tension vibrating off the band. ‘The energy out there is insane. Birmingham has completely sold out.’
Ashley didn’t smile. She didn’t move. ‘What are you doing here, Simon?’
‘I came in from London to give you the brilliant news in person,’ Simon said.
‘The fake-dating push with Molly worked like a dream. Spotify streams on the new single are up forty percent week-on-week. Merch sales in Manchester broke venue records. The label bosses are over the moon. They’re already talking about extending the tour into Asia next spring.
After that, we’ve always talked about you breaking the US—’
Ashley stared at him. ‘No,’ she said.
Simon paused, his professional smile flickering. ‘Sorry? No to Asia? We can discuss dates—’
‘No to all of it,’ Ashley said. Her voice wasn’t loud, but it was firm. Concrete, in fact.
The band was silent, but definitely watching.
‘Ash, let’s not do this now, five minutes before—’
‘I don’t give a shit, Simon,’ Ashley interrupted, stepping right into his space. ‘I don’t give a single shit about the Spotify streams, or the merch, or your fucking Asian extension.’
Simon’s eyes narrowed slightly, his corporate veneer slipping. ‘Ashley, calm down. You’re stressed. It’s tour fatigue—’
‘I am finishing this tour,’ Ashley said, her throat tight, her eyes locked onto his. ‘Because people bought tickets and they deserve a good show. But the second the lights go down on the final date in Rome, I’m done. I want out of my contract.’
Simon let out a patronising, breathless laugh. ‘You can’t just “get out” of a four-album deal, Ashley. You’re signed to a major label. We built you.’
‘You used me,’ she corrected sharply, her voice ringing clear over the muffled bass thumping through the venue walls. ‘You’ve used up my life, my relationships, my body, and my mental health. You don’t give a damn about my music, Simon. And you definitely don’t give a damn about me.’
Simon opened his mouth to deliver a rebuttal, but Ashley didn’t give him the chance.
‘I am done letting suits tell me who to be seen with, how I’m allowed to sound, and when I’m allowed to speak,’ Ashley said, her heart pounding with a fierce, terrifying clarity she hadn’t felt in five years.
‘I am going independent. And I’m going to figure out how to actually be a human being instead of a brand.
Maybe find Molly and see if she’s willing to hear me out, so I can tell her that she’s the only person I’ve ever loved.
Even if she doesn’t want me anymore, even if she completely fucking despises me.
Because she deserves to know, regardless.
’ She paused. ‘I know you don’t care about that. Not sure why I said it. Anyway.’
A loud bang echoed from the wings as the stage manager stuck his head into the room. ‘Two minutes to stage, Ashley! Curtains going up!’
Simon stood frozen in the centre of the green room, his face pale and utterly shocked. For the first time since Ashley had met him, he had absolutely nothing to say.
Ashley didn’t wait for him to recover. She brushed past him without a second glance and walked down the dark corridor toward the stage.
Behind her, Jax caught up in two long strides, slinging their bass over their shoulder.
‘Well,’ Jax whispered with a slow, appreciative grin. ‘That was terrifying. I loved it.’
‘Shut up, Jax,’ Ashley muttered, but the corner of her mouth twitched. ‘By the way, would you lot keep being my band when the shit hits the fan, and the teens bugger off?’
‘You’re not sick of our shit?’ Jax asked, surprised.
‘Think you just ran out of shit for me to be sick of,’ Ashley said.
They stepped into the blackness behind the main curtain. The noise of three thousand screaming fans roared through the heavy velvet like a tidal wave. The house lights began to dim.
Ashley closed her eyes, took a deep, steadying breath, and gripped the mic stand.
The curtain began to rise.