38. Gerard
Gerard
Returning to an old life was easy if you planned it ahead of time.
Gerard Wells had been too busy falling in love to prepare.
The next morning, when he spotted a crowd of young women amassed outside Regina’s house and heard the drone-like brrrr of helicopter propellers growing nearer, it was too late to draw up a set of steps. His old life had invaded his new one, and his defenses were nowhere in sight.
Two bodyguards—ostensibly ones sent in on boats earlier by the record label—were staked out on Regina’s lawn like leftover Halloween decorations keeping back the crowd.
Wellies were known for chasing their town cars down busy city streets and dropping geolocations on social media when one of them was spotted at a coffee shop, but this was next-level.
Some of them held up signs that at this distance, backlit by the sun, were unreadable.
All Gerard wanted to do was go see Emory. Trapped, he drew tight the curtains and sank onto the edge of the bed. His breath grew shallow. This was everything he hated about fame battering down his door.
A key in the lock shocked him out of his paralysis. For a moment, he assumed it was Emory. They’d let him go. He’d know what to do. But Regina slipped inside, closing the door firmly behind her. “Jeez, I knew you were famous, but I didn’t know you were this famous.”
The words didn’t process at first. Outside, the fans started singing “LA? Okay!” and their voices seeped in through the walls. God, that inane song would follow him to the grave! Then he asked, “Wait—you knew I was famous?”
“You showed up in a hat and sunglasses like it was a good disguise, but they were both from designer brands. You rarely answered to the name James on the first call. You sang like an angel and played like a pro. I knew.” She hit him with a steely look.
“Just like I knew Emory was up here the whole time.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Astounded, he barely moved from his spot on the bed. “Wait—did you post something? Is that why they’re all out there?”
“Post something? Who do you think you’re talking to?
You know this place doesn’t even have internet.
” She held a hand up to her chest as if she were wounded.
“Don’t blame me for that circus. Jeanie’s granddaughter can take the credit for that.
She recorded a video of you singing ‘Blest Are the Pure in Heart’ and posted it to social media.
Within nanoseconds, someone identified you as the singer. ”
Under his breath, he cursed. He’d known the solo was a risk, and while it had been enjoyable in the moment, it only reiterated what he already knew: Performing wasn’t for him.
But that didn’t mean he wanted to give up on music altogether, especially when it was such a powerful tool.
Emory and their bond over it served as a prime example of that.
“What about Emory?” he asked. “If you knew he was up here, why didn’t you turn him in?”
Regina made a move as if she was going to sit but decided not to.
“I didn’t know how he was up here or where, exactly.
Besides, from the moment he arrived on my doorstep, I knew he was hurting.
At every turn, he lashed out like a wounded animal.
What he’d done, well, it wasn’t nice or ethical, but it wasn’t exactly first-degree murder.
The people here are overprotective. Not much happens on our sleepy island, so when something does, the alarm bells go off at their highest pitch.
” She shrugged as if to say, What can you do?
“I had no proof. I saw no signs of him coming and going. The only thing I had to go off of was two sets of footsteps over my head, and even that could’ve been chalked up to my imagination.
For a time, I thought he was hiding out in the crawl space behind the bookshelf, but eventually, I ruled that out.
I never would’ve imagined he was invisible. ”
“Me neither.” Gerard marveled at how Emory’s miraculous state had become commonplace over the weeks.
There were infinite wondrous ideas left in this world to chase and discover.
A million ways to live your life to the fullest. Gerard wanted to start living his life on his own terms, which was going to be an uphill battle when there were hundreds of people outside chanting his name and demanding he be who they imagined him to be.
The door whooshed open, allowing in Garret Wells, Gavin Wells, and their father, Gary Wells.
A deluge of screams from the fans stationed down below snuck in behind them.
A cold chill raced through the space. Seconds ago, Gerard believed himself unshakable, but right then, all his agency jumped out the window.
“Regina, I presume? We spoke on the phone.” Gerard’s father extended his hand to Gerard’s landlady without even looking at his son.
It was impossible not to notice. Gerard had been gone for four weeks, and while he certainly wasn’t expecting to be tearily embraced by his father, he didn’t think an empathetic look of relief should’ve been out of the question.
Gavin and Garret crossed the room to where Gerard was standing, nearly frozen.
“Bud, what the fuck?” Gavin asked, crushing Gerard in a bear hug. His eldest brother always had at least five inches and a hundred pounds on him. He hadn’t realized how badly he’d missed this guy’s hugs and his scratchy beard and even scratchier flannel coats. “We were worried as hell about you.”
He’d used we, but it was a generous word choice in Gerard’s head. Garret looked about two seconds away from crushing him like a twig, only mildly less disgruntled than their father a few paces away.
“Thank you for letting us know Gerard was here and safe,” Gary said to Regina. “Apologies for the fans. If they cause any damage, please let me know. We’ll pay.” Gary Wells handed Regina a business card.
“It’s no trouble. I had a brush with fame myself,” Regina said, pocketing the card without sparing it a glance. “I know how rabid fans can be.”
“Oh, really?” Gary asked, but Gerard knew better than to believe this was genuine interest when he was using his low-register business voice.
Everything was perfunctory, performative.
Regina talked a bit about her past with Hallowitz & Hart, and Gerard half hoped for a flicker of recognition on his father’s face.
Gerard and his mom had played their album enough in his childhood while his father was around.
But Gary’s features remained impassive, a mask worn and meant to move things along.
Not waiting for Regina to finish, Garret harshly whispered to Gerard. “It wasn’t cool of you to run off like that. Randi had to keep covering for you, the Nomeys are in a week, and the label needs you to sign their new contract, like, yesterday.”
“Garret, come on. Let’s talk business once we’re on our way back to New York,” Gavin said, having overheard. He was always the reasonable one. The tiebreaker in every argument.
“I’m not going back to New York,” Gerard said, remembering he had a voice, which was easy to forget when it came to his family. For weeks, Emory had only had a voice, and he’d used it to great effect. No more would Gerard Wells muzzle himself.
“What was that?” His father finally paid him an inch of attention, cutting Regina off in the middle of a sentence. “Did you say you aren’t coming back to New York?”
If he and his brothers were the three little pigs, Gerard had built the house of straw, and it was liable to blow over if his mogul father gave out another huff and puff.
Running away had been his single act of defiance, and that didn’t involve facing anyone.
Try as he might’ve, he couldn’t bring himself to summon regret, though.
“I’m happy here. I have unfinished business here. I’m not leaving.” Emory rattled around in his brain.
“I’ll give you all some privacy,” Regina said, stepping out quicker than he’d ever seen her move before.
His father’s scowl hit new levels of intensity.
“Need I remind you of the business you have back in New York? You have a contractual obligation to attend and perform at the Nomeys. That’s not even to touch upon your familial obligations.
Do you imagine this bender you’ve been on has been fair to your brothers, to me? ”
“You want to talk about fair?” Gerard asked.
His voice rang foreign to him. Upon meeting Emory, he’d been turned off when Emory growled his dissent, but he had taught Gerard that sometimes to be seen, you first had to make yourself heard.
He tried on his own version of a growl. “Fair would’ve been taking the agreed-upon hiatus after tour, not shuffling us right back into the studio. ”
“Did we not have good reason to?” His father appealed to Garret and Gavin.
“Ger, you know we need to make an impression at the Nomeys. Our first time nominated. Our first time asked to perform.” Gavin stepped forward, sounding sympathetic.
“It’s going to be our last time.” Gerard placed his hands on his hips, summoning power with his stance.
“Don’t say that,” Garret insisted.
“I mean with me. We agreed to do three albums and reassess. That’s what I came out here to do. I reassessed, and I don’t want this anymore. I definitely don’t want that anymore.” He pointed to the door, where the fans grew louder. Are they multiplying?
“You want to leave the band?” Gavin asked, some confusing mixture of concern and hope sprinkled across his face.
Gerard nodded.
“Why?” Garret asked, not sounding the least bit understanding. His eyebrows were knit tightly together.
“Because I love music, but I don’t love performing. I don’t want to be a celebrity.”
“It’s a bit too late for that,” his father huffed. “Besides, families don’t break up.”