Chapter 3 Wren
Chapter three
Wren
FOR what feels like the hundredth time this car ride, I pinch the bridge of my nose and run the tops of my fingers under my eyelids.
“Bran, mate. You cannot write a song about the women who gave you a free fucking blueberry muffin.” I push my sunglasses down a fraction to glare at him through the rearview mirror, the guys in the van howling with laughter.
I am not a morning person, period. So when Merle, his brother Bran—our band's drummer and Jay, our guitar tech turned up at god knows what time this morning to collect me, I acted like it was the apocalypse.
Dramatic I know, but without coffee and before at least eleven, I can't function like a normal human being. I whined, pleaded to be left in bed, but they practically carried me and my suitcase to the van. I’m a proud man, but this early I am not opposed to begging to get an extra hour in bed.
This is why as Bran goes on with stupid suggestions for new material, I sit in the passenger seat with my arms crossed, knees up against my chest, sulking like a teenager.
“I’m telling you, she's a goddess working in a coffee shop. Her blueberry muffins make me drool.” he continues and at this point, I don't know if he's just trying to wind me up. I don't remind him that his girlfriend Mavis probably wouldn't take kindly to him calling another woman a goddess, so I shoot him another glare before pushing my sunglasses back over my eyes. What a fucking tool. I’m no saint, and my not so gentlemanly ways in the past is precisely why I’ve never been in a relationship. I’ve never found that one woman to consume my entire being–surely that is the level of desire that makes someone give themselves solely to just one other person?
What is the point of relationships? Yes I've dated, but not half as much as the media makes me out to be the notorious player of the band.
Every woman I've been with knows before anything starts that it can't be serious.
It's usually a one night thing and we don't even exchange phone numbers.
I'm happy with no commitment, and I'll give them the best night of their lives. What can I say? I'm a very giving guy.
There have only been a handful of women I’ve been with more than once, normally due to their relentless appearance in my world for the fame and claim that they slept with THE Wren Hastings. If my eyes could roll and stick into the back of my skull, they would.
I swear if humans didn’t get the urge to touch one another, I wouldn’t have sex at all.
Annoyed it’s even crossing my mind now, I tune Bran out, pulling my tatty small notebook from my back pocket, stretching out my legs.
Scribbling some words onto paper as we drive further into the countryside, Merle shifts next to me behind the wheel of the rental van.
Every time we hit a bump down the dirt lane my heart sinks, the back filled entirely with our music equipment.
“How long has it been since you did band karaoke? I did tell Phoenix, it could be a big ask.” long fingers tap a repetitive rhyme on the steering wheel, which draws my attention away from scribbling lyrics.
The closer we edge towards the hotel, the more nervous energy rolls from his tense shoulders.
I find myself matching his stiff posture, because I feel absolute terror over the entire weekend.
I think of my best friend and then his piece of shit brother, who is going to screw up everything for us.
I’ve never cared about my own reputation—unfortunately for my label and the girls on our PR team—but I won't ever let anything happen to Phin. Since meeting as two lonely boys at boarding school, young and scared, I’ve protected him.
Granted, I thought I wouldn't still be doing it now deep into adulthood, but I'm not going anywhere.
Putting aside that I’m on a caffeine withdrawal deathbed, I squeeze Merle's shoulder and make soothing circles with my thumb.
“I don't think we’ve done it since he was at university, but don't worry, mate.
It's fine. We've got all the equipment and we're slightly more decent at playing since then.” A smirk tugs at the side of my mouth, as I draw out a relieved chuckle from him.
“It’s always just been about having fun, so that's what it'll be. I mean you've invited two parts of The Larks, we’ve got you bud.”
Band karaoke is an invention Phin and I came up with, included a bunch of lads from our music studies class, and it became our little party trick.
True to its namesake, we get a bunch of instruments together and no matter what song someone decides to sing on karaoke, we give it our best go at playing along.
Over time we refined it, learning songs beforehand, rules on a set song list were made and then some of us became professional musicians.
Our band had made it into mainstream charts just before he’d headed to university, with whatever his childhood friend's name was. It was actually a gig we played in York, where Merle had come to watch his brother play and I had invited Phoenix along too. I'd never seen a glance be so explosive and from then on they were inseparable. Yes I saw less of him, but we always stayed in touch. How could I complain when my best friend was finally happy? I didn’t know his brother well despite being in school with Bran since the age of ten, the same boarding school where I’d met Phin, but surely it meant he was in good hands.
Slapping his brother on the shoulders, Bran leans forward from the back seats, grinning.
“Yeah he did! I mean the boys are gutted that we got invited and they didn't, but I’m so stoked for the weekend.” Shaking his broad shoulders, he rubs a hand through his shaggy brown hair and this close up, I can see all their familiar features.
The same mousy shade, freckled tan skin, piercing blue eyes and they're both big presences in such a confined space.
Merle is soft all over, whilst Bran is untamed and chiselled.
Shooting a glance at me before shifting in his seat, the closer we get to Nightingale house, the more uncomfortable he’s becoming. “Everyone coming was invited by Corbin, we didn’t invite you guys. He's been pretty secretive about the entire thing.”
The flimsy plastic pen in my hand snaps, as I can’t help but splutter, “Come again?”
With everything that’s been going on, I’d been preoccupied to keep tabs on all the fires I was trying to put out.
I steal a glance to my right and guilt pits in my stomach, because Merle has absolutely no clue that this boyfriend relapsed again.
I took him away to help him get sober, the entire month before they were opening up their hotel.
Not only that, but I have no clue how long it had been going on for this time.
When I found him off his face, he was so terrified he’d lose Merle if he knew, he begged me to get him sober and not tell anyone.
I reluctantly agreed, but I could never deny him of anything and it always had been that way.
I’d gotten him better, stayed with him through the cold sweats, feverish nights and sobered him up within four weeks.
Yes I’d looked like a total arsehole whisking him away, leaving Merle to pull together the hotel opening alone.
Now I was kicking myself, because I had been so contained in getting him better that I hadn’t questioned the murder mystery party invitation at all. It didn’t seem like their style, I just knew Corbin would be there and we needed to have a morbid conversation.
He wasn’t going to let us get away with what we’d done this time.
SLOWING until the wheels of the van crunch on gravel, Jay breaks the silence and I didn’t realise I was holding my breath, until I’m gulping for oxygen like I’m drowning. I need to get my shit together because I am so close to falling apart already; or I just need a coffee, I can never quite tell.
“He invited all of us? I’ve never even met him.”
“Yeah me neither. You sure Phin’s not just added our names to the guest list and forgot to tell you?” Bran adjoins, once again poking his face across the console.
“No, I have the list on my emails from him,” he flicks his chin to where his phone sits in the cup holder, telling me his pin as I grab the phone and access his emails.
“Type his name into the hotel email account and it’s there.
He sent me the guest list and rang to say he was sending the invites.
Didn’t even give us addresses, just expected them to be sent out. ”
I do as he says, find the email and there it is, a short command that he has total control over who will be here this weekend, and then the list of names. There’s only three names I don’t recognise, but ours are definitely on the list, along with Bran’s girlfriend and her best friend, Willow.
I audibly groan and lean my head to the side, staring in horror.
“I’ve died haven’t I? I’ve died and you’re all being too polite to tell me.
Willows here? He invited Willow?” I dump the phone back into the holder, just as the screen turns grey and reads ‘no signal’.
I start to rub my temples, because there is no reason for Corbin to have invited her.
We’d fucked once, but she perceeded to hang around the band for another year, despite how little attention anyone gave her.
She’d called me her boyfriend online, sharing that I whisked her away on romantic weekends, when in reality she had just appeared on our europe leg of the tour.
Every time she held her phone, I got so paranoid and then photos she took would appear online.
I couldn’t handle it, but the media went feral over whether we were dating or not.