18. She broke my heart
CHAPTER 18
She broke my heart
CALUM
Yorkrinth City is the same as I remember. Loud, bubbly, with its citizens rushing like they all have an emergency. We arrived a few hours ago. The boys crashed once Caleb showed them their rooms, but me? I haven’t been able to sleep a wink. Not even on the flight here.
I fluff some pillows, plant my head on one of them, and force myself to sleep. My brain is a mess. My mind is a sea of images and memories. Scott hasn’t found the PI, but he’s working on it. I make an X sign on my chest with my arms. If Cathie was here, what would she say?
You need to rest, Cal.
Her soft, seductive voice is a lamp in the darkness inside my head. My eyes shut. The next time they open, grey clouds hover outside my window. I stagger to the window and pull the curtains close. It’s colder here than in New York. My brain is muddled, and my body feels like jelly. I stub my toe against the suitcase I left on the floor and hop on one foot to the bed.
Pain skyrockets through my foot as I settle down on the edge of the bed. I need to get my shit together. I lift the suitcase to the bed and open it to grab some toiletries and a change of clothes.
All done, I dump it in the wardrobe. Caleb is having his birthday party sometime next week. I can’t remember the details now, and I don’t care as much as the boys think. Once Scott finds the PI, my life will have a direction. After a shower, I return to my room with a towel around my waist and another to dry my hair. My room has the least decoration. The walls are blank.
Halting at the sight on my bed, I remove the towel around my neck and aim it at Lucas. He’s sprawled on the bed, legs and arms spread out like he’s making snow angels, but he manages to catch it. He looks well-rested. The clown looks me up from top to bottom as I inch closer.
“What’s up?” he asks.
I put my finger up. “The ceiling.”
“Lame.” Lucas flips onto his stomach and props his elbows on the bed. His curls look darker because they are damp, and he runs his hand through them a few times. I sit on the dresser and kick my feet out. He must want something. “When are you bringing Superstar home?”
“Why?” I ask.
Lucas shrugs. “Dunno. I want to meet her. We only met her over a call. Is she nicer than you are? Wait, do you think Scott will want her in the label? He hasn’t gotten over losing Alan.” I rotate my shoulder in a half-shrug. These things aren’t my concerns now. Strolling to the wardrobe, I let my towel drop. Lucas shrieks. I chuckle. “Cal. A little heads-up next time.”
Like he warns us before parading around his house naked? I pull a pair of shorts over my briefs, and he mutters, “Wear something else. We are going out. You need to look good.”
“To where?” I reply.
“How should I know, hmm? Scott’s orders,” he says. I flip him the bird without looking his way. What to wear? A mix of black and blue jeans stares back at me from my suitcase. I have a few colourful pants too. What kind of outfit do I want to be pictured in should someone take an unexpected shot of me? I snatch a pair of fancy pants and put them on. “Good choice.”
Joining him on the bed, I kick his legs. He is dressed in a pair of jeans and a black polo.
“This what you wearing?”
Lucas winks. “Yeah. I look good in anything, man. Wake me up when it’s time to leave.”
With that, his head drops to the pillow, and his snores break the quiet. I grab my phone. My last post on BC app had more upvotes than it did two days ago. There are a few downvotes, but not enough to kick the post out of the trending spot. What will it take to see her again?
Skipping that, I open a tab on my browser, and different pictures flood my screen. Pictures of houses in New York. I zoom in on some. I owe her. Does she remember? I promised her this. I made her so many promises. But she has to know I didn’t break any of them. I would never.
“Are you looking for a house?”
I flinch. Lucas leans in, his head blocking my screen. He is a kid in a grown man’s body. “Hmm,” I mutter. I zoom in on a picture of a white house with a pretty porch. We can add flowers at the entrance, sing there, or recreate our first date. “What do you think?”
“Did you hit your head?” he replies.
“What?” I say without looking at him. He’s not the only spontaneous person in the group. He touches the back of his palm to my temple. Is that normal? “No. Why? You don’t like it?”
Lucas grabs my face in both hands and drags a corner of my eye, giving me an unrequested, up-close view of his hazel eyes. He blows air into my eyes, and I jerk back, nearly falling off the bed. I scramble out of the bed before he tries something funny or stupid. He sits up.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I yell.
“No. What the fuck is wrong with you?” he retorts. “You’ve been acting all weird since you found out about this superstar girl. You have a house already. A very expensive house that you live in with your mum. You don’t need another one. And get your head out of your arse.”
“You are a fucking idiot.” I use the hem of my shirt to wipe his touch. “Fuck you.”
“Made us come all the way to Yorkrinth to talk about houses,” Lucas mumbles. He points a manicured finger at me, his expression pained. He’s such a sourpuss. “Fuck you too, bro.”
A sigh leaves me. So what if that’s true? We do nice things often for each other. I step out but leave the door open so he hears me yell, “Someone come get Luc out of my room.” I dodge the incoming pillow, sticking out my tongue as another comes flying towards me. “Get over it.”
Ignoring his groans of protest, I slam the door shut and head to Sam’s room. The door opens before I can knock. Sam grins. “Was just about to come get you.” He slides on his sunglasses and steps into the hallway. The bright bulb bounces off the lens. His woodsy cologne drifts to my nose, and I back away. What does Cathie smell like? Fruits. Vanilla. “Where’s that guy?”
“He’s there somewhere being a terrorist,” I reply.
Sam laughs. “Sounds like Luc. Are you good?” I slide my hands into my pockets. He nudges me with an elbow. Even with the glasses, I feel his piercing gaze on me. “Cal, are you good?”
“I’ll be better once I see her,” I answer.
He smacks my chest in good fun. “We will find her. We need to look in the right place.”
Where’s the right place?
We drag Lucas out of my room. The idiot doesn’t stop grumbling until Sam confronts him. It turns out he had a date. We erupt in laughter, and he flushes a deep pink. A date in Lucas’ dictionary is another word for pussy appointment. He can’t keep it in his pants for long, that’s why he doesn’t do commitments. We don’t care as long as he’s safe and it’s consensual sex.
I ruffle his hair as we approach Caleb’s car. I’d be lying if I said I felt bad for him. He will find another. “Don’t worry. Plenty beautiful women abound here. You’ll find one you like.”
Our bodyguards keep a few feet behind us, but I still feel their presence. Sam works out the most between all three of us, but these guards are bulkier. God knows where Caleb got them.
Lucas turns to me. “Not happening.”
Sandwiched between Lucas and Sam in the backseat, I insert my earbuds, and Cathie’s voice floods my ears. I extracted the sounds from the three TikTok videos and mashed them. Yeah, I’m a mess. The half butterfly on my wrist confirms that. I always wondered why or the motivation. I know it now. I need to find her so we can be whole together again. My finger drums on my knee in rhythm to her voice. She will make a great addition to the label, not as our bandmate, but as her own voice. Scott can manage her. He brings out the best in all of us.
The car slows to a stop. Sam gets out first. Lucas squeezes my knee. I expect him to utter one of his crude jokes, but he mutters, “You might be a fool, but I hope you find your superstar.”
“Thanks.”
Lucas exits the car, leaving me, the driver, and the bodyguard in the passenger seat. The other two must be in another car with Scott and Caleb. I stare out the window, and my lips twitch.
Lights hang above the entrance of the pub, highlighting the faces of the small crowd outside. The bouncer at the door hands out tickets. Are they having a show? I didn’t get any tickets. The chatter from inside drowns all the surrounding noise. It’s cold, but no one seems to notice.
I head to the entrance, no idea how I will get inside. Someone familiar slides their arm through my elbow and says, “He’s with us.” To me, Scott asks, “What took you so long?”
We walk around the building to locate a second entrance, our path illuminated by the hanging bulbs on the building. The music is louder as we step into the pub. It’s hot in here like the cold air was swapped for heat and music. I tug on my collar. Bottles clink as people toast to themselves. People pile at the bar. Sam and Lucas are nowhere to be found in this mess.
Scott pats my back. “Loosen up. Have fun, Cal.”
With that, our manager is gone. Memories erupt in my mind. People bump into me, muttering apologies as they hurry past to find a suitable spot in the mini commotion. The first time I met Cathie was in a pub. I was thinking about my life, almost considering running back to New York without letting Mum know I was in Wells Spring. A sound pierces through the air, and like most people, I raise a shoulder to my ear, using my hand to cover the other one. Our heads turn to the sound of the noise. Someone is testing the microphone on the empty stage.
A local English band was playing the day we met. But today’s setup looks different. It’s a talent hunt. Sounds like an event Scott would attend. I look over the heads of the people at the bar until I find Lucas and Sam. Lucas has his arm around a blonde. Took him long enough.
I start towards the trio, but movement from my periphery catches my eyes. I stop halfway. I think… I think I just saw Cathie. I swipe the back of my hand over my eyes. But she’s still there, a few feet from the bar, talking to a tall guy with his guitar strapped over his shoulder.
Is that Papa Mace? He murmurs words that makes her pout. My heart clenches. Everything around me blurs except them. Seconds later, he walks away. I take advantage of his absence. Sam or Lucas call out my name as I walk past their stools, but their voices sound so distant.
It’s me and Cathie again in our world. My baby. My superstar. My cupcake.
I stop behind Cathie. She’s still staring in the direction the guy went, so she doesn’t notice me. I’m not thinking as my arms wrap around her from behind, and her vanilla scent tickles my nose. Her hair smells like she washed it before coming. I don’t know what shampoo it is, but I love it. God, I missed hugging my girl. She freezes for a nanosecond, then stomps on my foot. I let go immediately. Her arm rears back as she spins, ready to aim for my face.
“Cathie, it’s me,” I whisper. My heart picks up speed. Her brows draw together as she sizes me up. She takes a shaky step back. “No, no, no. Please stay. It’s Cal, your baby, Superstar.”
Recognition flies across her face. I go in for another hug, but she screams, “Don’t touch me.”
Her voice is so loud and powerful it renders the entire place quiet. Dozens turn to us. I step forward so I can explain. She needs to hear me out. We can start with a private conversation. A brute force slams me to the floor. My ears buzz as pain sweeps from my spine to my scalp. It’s Guitar guy. What’s wrong with English men? Ignoring the pain, I jump to my feet, but someone yanks me back before I attack him. He walks Cathie out, blocking her view of me.
“Yo. What the hell was that? You can’t just hug strange women,” the force holding me says. I shake my head, and the voice sinks in. It’s Sam. I look into his green eyes. I’m confused, too. He walks me to the bar where the drinking has stopped. “She looked like she saw a ghost.”
“Is that Superstar?” Lucas asks. The blonde is gone. My mind is hazy. I’m trying to process what happened. I wince and massage my lower back, the spot that withstood the worst of the impact. He shoved me like I was some piece of rag. “You good? Is that your girl, Superstar?”
“No.” I sink into the chair he pulls out for me and say, “Yeah, it’s her.”
But I guess she’s no longer my girl if she has another man hitting me. My eyes scan the place for her. She’s gone, even her protector. The show starts. Music and chatter take over. My body goes on autopilot. A voice that sounds like mine leaves my lips to order something potent to wipe my memories. I down the first shot, and it burns its way to my belly. I shiver and slam the glass on the countertop. I think I yell for more. I’m not sure. It’s all a blur except for the pain building in my chest. Besides, I can hardly hear myself above the music.
On my fifth or sixth, or one-millionth shot, someone snatches the glass from me. The person breathes down my neck, their arm going through my elbow to lift me off the rotating chair.
“I think we should leave,” a voice says.
They all sound the same now. I brace my forearms on the countertop and shake my head. Bad move. My head is heavy. Why do I see double of the bartender? Oh, God. I’m spinning. No, not me. The room is spinning. Wait, everyone but me is double. The half butterfly on my wrist shivers and takes flight, fluttering off with half its wing. My God. It’s flying. I’m not.
Will I be able to fly if I stand on the bartop? I try to practise that, but my body is numb.
“We really should leave.”
“No, I don’t wanna go anywhere. I wanna fly,” I murmur. My words are slurred. Something wet and warm touches my arm. I think it’s raining here. “We need an umbrella. Or a bucket.”
“Cal, are you crying?” What’s crying? It sounds like a fancy word. I think I like it. The guy heaves me off the chair. I groan. No. “What the fuck, man? Sam. Cal is having a breakdown.”
“What’s a breakdown?” I quip.
Someone else joins him, and they each take my arm. We stagger towards the door with my feet dragging across the floor. “Someone put a hand in my chest and ripped out my heart,” I mutter in a sing-song voice as I’m led out. “Her name’s Cathie and she broke my heart.”
And it hurts. It hurts everywhere.