Chapter 1
Chapter one
Robin
“ARE you for fucking real?” Lily thrusts a perfectly manicured fingernail into the bouncer’s face. Me on the other hand, I’m out of my element; staring at him like he has a second head protruding from his shoulders. An ugly counterpart for his atrocious personality.
How had my carefully planned life come to this?
Being rejected by a sleazy bouncer whilst my best friend—practically my sister, tries to handle the situation.
Try being the key word, because the man is not being persuaded to let either one of us inside the venue.
It’s the middle of the week for christ sake.
Usually I’m in my apartment watching old fashioned detectives solve mysteries on television, or writing.
Hell, last week I perfected my Chai latte skills, read the smuttiest fantasy book known to man and started knitting a sweater Lil’s grandma requested.
She’d probably grumble that I was behind on the project due to events like this; watching her granddaughter ready to wrestle with a man twice her height.
One hand sits on her hip as she continues to viciously point. “Listen buddy, do you know who I am? Tell him again that Lily and Rob are outside!”
I internally cringe, questioning again how the night turned into us lurking outside an unidentified black door. The stench of urine and beer is so strong that yep—I’m standing in it. Fucking fantastic.
A shudder rolls through my body and I know it’s time to approach the beast, pull her out now before she tries to slice his artery.
I’ve never seen her be so out rightly rejected before and when that sinks in, I predict hellfire will rain down from the sky as she wreaks her revenge over the dank alleyway.
The buzz of noise from inside the building roars and peaks, just a heady vibration of voices singing back their favourite anthem.
“Like I said, if you want to come backstage you need to get down on your knees and show me how much you want it. Wren's orders.” He leans into her with a cruel smirk and I can smell his foul breath from where I stand. “You know, sample the goods. Make sure you’re worth his time.”
Finally recoiling away from him, I decide this madness ends now and grab her hand, giving it a firm tug. “Let’s go Lil. I’d rather not contract a disease.” I instantly regret opening my mouth, my quick wit once again meeting my hot temper.
As his eyes narrow to reptilian like slits and meet mine, I know my mediocre bad day just instantly turned worse. “When he sees you, he’ll go soft. Look at you.” His laugh slices deep where it intended to hit and a burning sting hits the back of my eyes.
I’m not usually this emotional, and he couldn’t have known that the only day I allow myself to feel something, is today.
Exhaling a shaky breath, I grab her arm and don’t give her a choice as I pull her away, giving up on getting into the gig as our shoes scrape across the cobbles.
I want to put as much distance between that black door and us.
We’re immediately swept into the throng of fans in band merchandise leaving early, and tourists all eager to hear the host of their ghost walk.
Holding in the tears threatening to spill over, I do the one thing I know how to do best. Bitterly seeth and wish the worst things upon Wren fucking Hastings stupid existence.
I hope he chokes on water and falls off stage.
FOR fifteen years I’ve managed to avoid the boy that grew up to be a rockstar, living the dream of every guy with reckless partying as a pass-time.
Honestly it was easier than I imagined, because to my pleasure he never wanted to meet me either.
We shared only one thing in common, and his name is Phoenix.
My one true best friend. My ride or die.
The third party to our three musketeers club and Lil’s younger brother.
We were raised practically as twins, born weeks apart and at the time my Mum had lived with their family.
Growing up I never knew what life was like without either of them by my side, until concerned adults threw out words like codependent and emotionally reliant, causing Phin and I to both be split apart.
Sent to separate boarding schools. This is where on his first day, he walked into his dorm room and met him.
I knew all the stories, sat through summers of Phin going on and on about his life at school, his new friends and music.
Whilst I found it hard to bond with any of the girls at my own school, he’d always been a social butterfly, able to fit in with anyone.
He never stopped talking about Wren Hastings though, and I silently vowed as a sixteen year old girl to never meet the boy who was stealing my best friend away.
Already at that point he’d gotten him into trouble—a few years later and he spent his first stint in rehab for reckless drug use.
Whilst Wren went on to become the famous frontman of The Larks with a playboy, party image, I was helping my best friend through the hardest time of his life.
We barely made it to university because his stay in a rehabilitation center went on longer than planned, but I made it work.
I packed up our separate belongings and hauled our butts up North.
Lily soon followed, wanting a new scene.
In my mind all it would take to fix everything was the three of us being reunited; a fresh start we all craved, but I miscalculated their friendship.
Now at twenty six, Wren is still very much a solid root in Phin’s life—everyone’s life, as one of the most popular rock bands of our generation.
They’re actually pretty good, but I’d rather inject battery acid straight into my veins than ever admit that out loud.
He may have deranged fans throwing themselves at him all over the internet, but his sharp jaw, heavily tattooed body and admittedly, gorgeous shaggy curls will never sway me.
He’s not good for Phin, and like tonight I’m constantly reminded how much of a garbage human-being he is.
THE heat of the day vanishes, as we pass the crowd who stop outside the stone walls for their ghost stories. Pulling at my cardigan, I try to envision a reality where we’d had a great night to end our Summer.
“Honestly Darling, I bet that toad didn’t even tell the guys I was there.
” Shaking out her ashy blonde curls, she runs a hand over her parting, tilting her chin up in an act of confidence–or maybe delusion, I can never quite tell.
“Maybe I should quickly pop someone a text before we walk too far.” Pulling out her phone, scarlet nails tap out a text and hit send with that little swoosh.
My own phone has been making constant vibrations all evening, but knowing it’s Phoenix who has been blowing up my phone, I put off looking at my notifications.
He’d taken a last minute trip away at an incredibly inappropriate time, giving me brief replies to text messages and ignoring my calls.
That was probably fuel to the fire that raged inside me lately, it was just incredibly unfortunate I felt so vulnerable near this time of year.
“Wren is an arsehole! Why do you want to see him? He just told some sleaze that we needed to proposition ourselves just to grace his presence!” Well I didn’t think those words would be bursting from my lips this evening—it’s not even eleven.
“Darling, I’m sure he was just joking and took it too far.
You know what boys are like.” Her nose scrunches and eyebrows flick up, like she’s expecting me to giggle or agree.
As I silently brood whilst we walk down the cobble street, her focus is fully on a text conversation.
“Fantastic. Willow is with them. She’s going to let us in.
” She exclaims cheerily, but upon hearing her friend's name, I instinctively deflate.
“I’m just going to call it a night.” Twirling my hands clumsily, I give up trying to make up an excuse to go home.
Still fully immersed in her text conversation with her other best friend—Satan as Phin calls her—she quickly taps away on the device before stopping in the street.
“Rob, sweetie. I know you have your headphones in your bag and an audiobook already downloaded. You’re a nine bedtime kinda gal.
Quite frankly I was pushing my luck to get you to stay out this long. ”
Scrunching my nose, I chuckle and bring her into me for a hug as we say our goodbyes.
I hope she never starts to question how we’re friends, because when I prefer being in bed super early, she’s the biggest night owl I know.
She practically skips back to the venue, turning to remind me of our big plans this weekend.
I frown because I don’t have the foggiest what she’s referring to.
Did I agree to hang out or go to some event this weekend?
I bloody hope not. My social battery is close to being fully drained.
Digging in my tote bag where I dumped my phone, I bring it out, only to see that my book agent is ringing me.
Bollocks.
Groaning to a stop in the middle of the street, strangers thin out around me, as I hang my head and hit accept.
I can’t put off the inevitable, this phone call needs to happen now because since having my debut detective novel published, I’ve come up with absolutely nothing for the next two books I’ve been contracted to write.
“There’s my lovely author. How are you?” Aurora gives off a terrifying Miranda Priestly vibe, unless you’re one of her clients then she’s as soft as a teddy bear buttering you up.
“Oh you know me, drowning in episodes of Poirot. Not all bad though, it’s given me plenty of inspiration.”
“Fantastic! You crime writers. I forget all you need sometimes is to be one with Agatha Christie and you all suddenly feel fresh as daisies. I’ll be quick—I know you didn’t want any calls today and I am truly sorry. Have we made any progress on that outline for book two?”