Chapter 62
Chapter sixty-two
Cole · Now
High Hopes – Panic! At The Disco
A thud jerks me awake.
“Shit.”
“Rixie?” I croak.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up,” she says quietly. “Go back to sleep.”
I roll over and peel my eyes open.
Low moonlight glints through the blinds as she drops to the floor and disappears.
Hardwood creaks.
“What are you doing, baby?” I ask.
She groans, her body half under the bedframe. “I dropped my phone.”
I peer over the edge of the bed, a sleep-coated chuckle slipping past my lips. “Need a hand?”
“I got it.” She winces, her arm stretching under the frame. It’s another solid minute before she slides back across the floor, with the device clutched tight in her grip. “Slippery little fucker.”
I yawn and stretch my hand onto the nightstand, blinking as a golden hue flickers alive when I slap the lamp on. “You realise it’s the arse crack of dawn, right?”
“It’s past seven, dude.” She huffs a laugh and pushes herself up.
Her hair falls to her waist in messy waves, face bare of makeup. My black hoodie swamps her frame. She settles on her knees, reaching out for me. A lazy smile curls my lips when she brushes my hair out of my eyes.
She sighs. “I like you all sleepy.”
I hum, catching her wrist in my palm and planting a kiss to the inked microphone. “I like you all the time.”
“You’re too good for my ego.” She grins dopily, but I don’t miss the lack of sparkle in her eyes.
I exhale a slow breath, shuffle backwards, and pat the space next to me.
She crawls into the bed, denim brushing my skin when she twines our legs together.
“You okay this morning?” I push my fingers into her hair and skate them over her nape.
Her breath warms my neck when she tucks herself into my chest. “I will be, I think.”
“Wanna talk about it?”
“I do,” she says, rubbing her cheek against my skin. “But not today, okay?”
My eyes drift shut, her strawberry and lemon scent curling around me as I squeeze her closer. “Okay.”
She combs through my hair with her fingers, the gentle touch soothing every inch of me.
My breaths slow and my heart settles.
The world hushes around me. I’m almost gone when I feel her ease away from me.
Her fingers coast along my cheek, followed by a soft press of her lips, and I swear I hear a whispered, “Always and forever, Rock Star,” as I succumb to slumber.
“Fucking finally,” Axel says, twisting his cap backwards and peering over his shoulder as I stroll into the studio lounge, before grabbing another mug down from the cupboard. “Thought we were gonna have to put a missing person’s report out for you.”
Saint snorts and peeks over the cushion shielding his face. “Last seen in between Rix’s thighs.”
I thump Saint’s thigh with my fist.
He yelps, shooting upright, and I slide onto the cushion.
“Fucking dick,” he grunts, falling backwards, his head landing in my lap.
I slant my gaze, scanning his face.
His eyes are dull and dazed, his skin grey and ashen. If I had to guess, he’s on something stronger than weed today. Not just booze either.
He groans and slams the cushion back over his face when Carter hammers his sticks on the edge of the coffee table along to It’s My Life playing low through the speakers.
I yank a strand of Saint’s hair. “What’s up with you?”
“Nothing,” he mumbles, burrowing deeper into the couch, his face mashed against my stomach.
I exhale a slow breath and pat his back. He’s been all over the place lately. He’s like a fucking yoyo, up and down. Only difference is, I’ve never worried about a yoyo snapping.
I drop my voice. “Do you need anything?”
“Let’s just focus on band shit.”
“Alright.” I kick my legs onto the coffee table, and tip my chin at Carter. “Tommy coming?”
“Just dropping the girls off with Mum,” he says. “Said to get started without him. He’ll catch up.”
“Not really sure where to start.”
Today is our first official band meeting since we came off tour and left our label. With the album close to completion, there’s so much to do—tracking, mixing, tour dates to think about, album artwork, promo shit.
Tommy’s going spare over the lack of news. Our fans are getting antsy. Socials are blowing up, fan mail is coming in in droves. Everyone’s watching and waiting to see what we’re doing next. Hence, the meeting. Gotta throw the old man a bone every now and then.
“Where are you at with the album?” Carter asks.
I roll my lips and click my tongue. “A couple more weeks and I’ll reckon we’ll be done.”
“Shit, you two are speedy.”
I smirk. “Been feeling inspired.”
“I’ll fucking bet,” Saint mumbles. “Inspired by pus—”
I clap my hand over his mouth. “Enough out of you, thanks.”
Axel chuckles as he hands me a steaming mug of black coffee. “I think we just drop a surprise tour.”
“You just want to be on the road,” Carter deadpans.
“Duh.” Axel smirks. “I’m fucking ready. I want to be in that booth, and hitting the stadiums as soon as you’re done. Drop the album and tour dates all on the same day.”
Carter grunts, tilting his head. “Break the fucking internet while we’re at it.”
“Exactly.” Axel’s grin widens and he waggles his brow. “Be like Beyonce.”
“I know you didn’t just compare us to Queen B.” Saint scoffs.
Axel shuffles between the couch and the coffee table, shaking his arse the whole time.
I tip my head back on the leather and scrub a hand down my face.
If only the world could see us now.
“It’s not a bad idea though,” Carter says, tapping a staccato rhythm. “I don’t know if I can be arsed with all the pre-drop stuff. Interviews, social media shit. That was the worst part about being under Ricochet. I felt like a fucking show pony.”
“Hey, Daddy agrees.” Axel towers over the back of the couch. “I’ll speak to Ash. She might be open to doing some artwork for us for the cover.”
Carter stops drumming. “Your sister?”
“Yeah, she’s not long graduated with her masters.”
“I thought you said she had a fashion degree?” Carter’s gaze narrow. “How the fuck does that help with album art?”
Axel rolls his eyes and launches a cushion at Carter’s head. “Didn’t realise people could only have one hobby.”
“She draws?” I tilt my head.
There’s not much I know about Ashley. With ten years between her and Axel, she was just a kid when we got signed and left Chesterton. He didn’t want her around the lifestyle at thirteen so instead of taking over her guardianship, he left her with their aunt and uncle.
Pretty sure he regrets not bringing her along now though. They’re not exactly close and I know he doesn’t like that fact.
“Yeah.” Axel tugs his phone out, thumbs over the screen, and hands it off to me.
I swipe through the gallery, bobbing my head.
The art is gritty, but polished. Sharp lines, smudged edges. There’s something lyrical about it. I pause on a black-and-white sketch of a woman. Head tipped back, hair flowing. Rain streaks around her, neon splatters bleeding through the page.
“Shit. This is good,” I say.
Axel nods. “She’s amazing.”
Carter tips his chin and holds his hand out.
I toss the phone his way. He scans the art, his lips puckering a beat before they flatten. “Not bad.”
A sad smile ghosts over Axel’s face as his eyes stray to the wall. “She’s in a shitty job at the minute. Figured it won’t hurt to give her a bit of a fund boost while she’s figuring it out.”
“Yeah, alright. Ask her.” I look between Carter and Saint. “Unless you two have anything against it.”
Carter shakes his head. Saint grunts a no.
“Think it’ll be better coming from you.” Axel picks at a loose hem in his joggers. “She’ll just think it’s charity if it comes from me.”
“Fair. Pass her details over and I’ll call her next week.” I sip my coffee. “So record the album, drop the album, drop a tour.”
Saint peeks up at me. “Think there’s a bit more to it than that, dude.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, shall I do all the details?” I deadpan, and hold my hand in the air. “Record Album.” I curl in my thumb. “Mix album.” I drop my forefinger, then frown. “Who the fuck we using as a mixing engineer? Scott was exclusive to the label and has a non-compete in his contract.”
Saint sighs dramatically and drags himself upright. “If only we knew someone who happened to do that job for a living…”
I narrow my gaze. “We’re not asking Rixie.”
“I’m just saying.” He lifts a shoulder as he pulls a cigarette from his hoodie pocket.
I snatch the stick, and send it sailing into the bin before he can light it. “No—”
A light knock sounds at the door.
I hike a brow, and turn to Carter. “Your dad?”
“Not likely. He only just picked the girls up twenty minutes ago.”
Axel pushes off the couch with a frown. There aren’t many people in the world who have access to our building, let alone know where to find the studio. And all of them just barge in like they own the place.
The hinges creak when Axel eases the door open a crack.
Then his shoulders drop, and he shouts, “Ricochet.”
He swings the door open, and props his arm atop of the frame.
Riley stands on the other side, bouncing on the balls of her feet, fingers tapping rapidly on her thighs.
Her eyes dart over the room, landing just past my shoulder. “Have you seen Hendrix?”
“Not since this morning.” My lips tug down. “Why?”
Riley shakes her head. “She was meant to meet me for lunch, but she didn’t show. And she’s not replying to my texts.”
“When did you last speak to her?”
“She texted early this morning,” Riley says, “But didn’t say anything about cancelling. She’s probably just forgotten. She does that a lot.”
Her face scrunches, and she slides past Axel.
I tug my phone out and scroll through my contacts until I come across Hendrix’s name.
The phone rings.
My chest thunders as last night runs around in my mind.
Did she slip out on me again?
No. I refuse to believe that.
It rings and rings and rings.
Then, the sound of a soft breath tickles my ear drums.
My muscles relax instantly.
Hendrix’s voice is light and teasing as it crackles through the speaker. “Don’t you have a band meeting today, Rock Star?”
I grin, the knot easing in my gut.
“Where you at, baby?” I ask as a car horn blares from her end of the line.
She hisses. “Fucking cunt. Learn to drive.” She exhales slowly and I hear the tick of her indicator. “Sorry, I’m on the M1.”
I chuckle, sinking deeper into the couch. “And why are you on the motorway?”
Silence.
I’d think she put the phone down if it wasn’t for the hum of cars around her.
“Rixie?”
I hear her smack her lips together. “There’s just something I’ve got to do back in Chesterton.”
She didn’t say back home.
My chest flutters. “You’re meant to be meeting Riley for dinner.”
“Oh fuck.” She hisses. “I totally forgot. Is she with you now?”
“Yeah.”
“Can you put her on the line?”
“Yep. Hold.” I cup the mic. “Riles? She wants you.”
Riley frowns as I hold the phone out to her.
Her fingers wiggle as she stares down at the device for a long minute.
Then, she blows out a slow breath and nudges an ear defender off one ear. Her hands trembles as she snatches my phone.
A shiver passes over through when she holds it an inch from her ear. “You know I hate talking on the phone unless it’s video.”
Hendrix must say something, as Riley nods and shuffles to the far corner of the room, her voice dropping. “Are you sure you want to do that?”
I steer my gaze to the coffee table.
The others make no such attempt to pretend they aren’t eavesdropping. Axel perches on the arm of Carter’s armchair, while the three watch Riley closely.
“Okay,” Riley says. “Call me when you’re done?”
I drum my fingers on my thigh and roll my lips.
“Love you too, bye.” Riley puts the phone down, repositions her ear defenders, and trains her stare on my nose. She taps a bright pink Converse against the floor, her fingers clicking at her sides. “You know that private jet of yours?”
I narrow my gaze. “Not ours, but yeah…”
“How quickly will it get you to Chesterton?”
“Pretty quick,” I say as Saint pulls out his phone and swipes his thumb over the screen before tossing it into my lap. It's already ringing. I press it to my ear and glance at Riley. “Why?”
“Because Hendrix is too fucking proud to ask.”
Axel makes a noise of approval at Riley’s profanity.
Riley shakes her head, but her lip twitches for a beat before falling. “She’s gonna need you today.”