Chapter 47
47
AGE 20
“ P inch me.” Ash thrusts her arm out as she surveys the outdoor area of our new rented house in the Hollywood Hills with awe-widened eyes. “We have a fucking pool, jacuzzi, and outdoor kitchen, Dil.” Her eyes are twinkling as she looks up at me. “What even is this life?”
I press a kiss to the top of her head. “I know. It’s fucking insane.”
“I’m so glad to be out of the hotel and to have our own space.”
“Same. It was getting claustrophobic even if we were largely only sleeping there.”
We stayed in a hotel for a few weeks when we first arrived in L.A. But after there was a bidding war for us—with several top labels vying for our commitment—we signed with Capitol Records and promptly started looking for a suitable place to rent.
We were offered a decent advance for a six-album deal, but we turned it down on the advice of our new agent-slash-manager, Frankie, and our new lawyer, Ted. Frankie explained how the only guarantee was our first album. After that, the label has the option of producing and distributing any future albums, meaning we could be tied to them for years if our first album is a big success. With current streaming and distribution options, we might want to go it alone after we establish a name for ourselves. It was sound advice, and we renegotiated a three-album deal with no advance and as much creative control over our image, our music, and our schedule as is possible with these types of contracts. Our lawyer more than earned the hefty fee he charged us.
We learned all upfront payments might be paid by the label, but they come out of our future share of the royalties, the same way an advance would. Thankfully, we have the Lancaster millions to cover us until royalties start coming in. Apart from the new equipment we bought and the studio time we paid for back in Dublin, our only other expenses were flights, hotel accommodation, food and drink, and legal fees. Up until we signed a twelve-month lease on this place a few days ago and bought motorbikes and cars. But there will be no other big spending unless something crops up.
Ash has taken full control of our finances. We trust her more than we trust ourselves with the money. She’s going to hire a housekeeper and a PA, and the label provides a publicist. Ash will act on our behalf, carefully vetting our options to ensure whoever is appointed is the best fit.
The two-year contract we signed with Frankie Freeman includes provision for Ash to be mentored by him. It cost us an extra five percent in commission and an agreement to pay him an exit bonus when the contract ends, should the band sales and royalties exceed a certain threshold. But it was worth it to know we’ll have full control of our careers in the future under Ash’s stewardship. Frankie is already treating Ash like his daughter; my sister having charmed him in record time.
Ash is going to be every bit as busy as we are between learning how the industry works, attending business meetings, managing our finances, paying our bills, and attending online classes. She’s determined she still wants to get her degree, so I hope she’s able to juggle everything. The label is already talking about a tour the year after next if everything goes well, so I’m not sure how viable it will be for her to do post-grad studies when we hit the road, but she says she’ll cross that bridge when she comes to it.
“I can’t believe we get to live in a mansion like this.” Reverence fills her tone as she looks all around.
“It’s surreal for sure,” I agree, needing to pinch myself too. It’s only been seven weeks since we landed on US soil, and so much has happened in that short space of time. It’s been hectic. A blur of meetings and performances, signing paperwork, organizing long-term visas, and making plans. All the important things are in place now, and we can get settled in our new routine.
Come Monday, we start recording our album at Capitol Studios, which is in the Capitol Records building. One of the benefits of this gaff is its proximity to the label. A thirty-minute walk or a five-minute bike ride is all it will take between both places. I couldn’t stomach the thought of sitting in that bullshit traffic every day. A ton of iconic music venues are on our doorstep along with top-notch restaurants, bars, and clubs. So, as locations go, it doesn’t get much better than this. It’s a quiet, private retreat only minutes from the hustle and bustle of L.A. life.
Our new home is a palatial Tuscan-inspired five-bedroom house costing a small fortune every month. I’m putting Lancaster’s money to good use for sure. Dave, who is now our official A&R rep at the label, managed to secure us a decent discount seeing how the owner is signed to Capitol Records too and he’s overseas for a year on an international world tour.
“We’re living the dream, baby.” Jay comes up behind Ash, throws her over his shoulder, and takes off racing around the large patio area in front of the infinity pool.
“Don’t you dare, Jamie Fleming,” she shrieks as my best mate moves closer to the water. “I’m warning you, there’ll be?—”
Whatever she’s about to say is cut off when Jay jumps into the water, fully clothed, holding her tight to his chest.
“This place is sick!” Ro comes bounding down the steps, sporting a giant grin. “We have a proper home gym, a games room, cinema room, and a fucking wine cellar! And get this.” Ro’s face glows like a little kid on Christmas morning as he materializes beside me at the railing.
I’ve been admiring the stunning view of the city laid out before us from our Hills hideaway, trying not to think of how close I am to the love of my life or wondering if any of the structures in the distance are UCLA. From my research, it’s less than a thirty-minute drive from here, traffic notwithstanding.
“All the bedrooms are en suite with massive rainforest showers, fireplaces and sitting rooms, huge walk-in wardrobes, and their own terrace with outdoor furniture,” my little brother rambles on, unaware of my inner turmoil.
To be so close to her and yet still so far is a killer.
“I swear the kitchen is the size of our entire house back home, and there’s a separate dining room and two huge living rooms. I just sent a video to the family group,” Ro adds, practically vibrating with glee.
Pulling him into a playful headlock, I mess up his hair. “Wait until you see the home recording studio.”
“What?” he yells, punching me in the gut as he wriggles free. “Are you kidding me? If you’re joking right now, Dil, I’ll fucking kill you.” He swipes hair back out of his eyes.
I chuckle, loving seeing my little brother so happy.
If he only knew how close I came to walking away from all of this for her.
What a dumbass move that would’ve been.
“I’m not joking. You do know who this house belongs to, right? Of course, there’s a recording studio.” I point at the outbuilding beside the guest house at the far right of the property. “It’s in there.”
He moves to run off, but I grab the back of his shirt. “Did you break the news to Ma about Christmas?”
He bobs his head before swatting my hand away. “She was actually fine with the plan, and the others are excited. They can’t wait to spend Christmas in L.A.”
Our first album is due to be handed in at the end of February, so there’s no way we can fly home for Christmas. The three-bed guesthouse made softening the blow easier. We talked to Con and Jay first. Con’s grandparents said they are too old to travel all this way, and Jay isn’t speaking to either of his parents right now, so neither of them had any issue with us offering the guest house to the O’Donoghues to come visit next month.
It’ll be nice to have them here. I know Ma is worried about us being so far away. Hopefully, seeing our setup and how we’ve surrounded ourselves with good people will help to put her mind at ease.
“Come on.” Ro tugs on my elbow. “Give me a tour of the recording studio unless you want to stay for the show.” He smirks as he jerks his head toward Jamie and Ash. My sister and best mate are now lip-locked and wrapped around one another, looking like they’re seconds away from christening the pool.
A pang of longing creeps around my heart as pain mushrooms in my chest. Viv should be here with me. That should be us in the pool, ready to tear our clothes off and get lost in one another. I avert my eyes, drawing air deep into my lungs as I rub a hand over the pain spreading across my chest. I hate I can’t look at my sister’s happiness without being reminded of everything I’ve lost. I’m happy for Ash and Jay, and I loathe feeling like this.
“Good call.” My voice sounds flat to my own ears as I ignore the sounds coming from the pool and follow my little brother.
Tears prick my eyes as I toss and turn in bed, tired, frustrated, heartsick, and fed up of feeling like this. “Ugh.” I throw pillows across the floor before I sit up against the headboard, giving up on sleep because it’s clearly not going to happen tonight. Flicking my bedside lamp on, I scrub my sore eyes and sigh. It’s not getting any easier. It’s been over three months since I last saw her, and the pain is only getting worse.
I don’t know how much longer I can go on pretending everything is okay during the day and falling to pieces at night. As much as I’m loving being in the studio with our new producer and engineer and fucking stoked at how incredible this album is going to sound, it’s only a distraction, not a cure.
I thought I grew up with a void in my heart, but that was nothing compared to the giant gaping hole that is now permanently clawing at my chest.
I need her.
I miss her.
I love her.
Tears come unbidden. I can’t stop them. They just leak out.
Opening my phone, I scroll through my photos of Vivien through blurry eyes as I cry.
The pain is indescribable.
It feels like I’m slowly dying inside without her.
“Dillon.” The voice is accompanied by a light rap.
What’s Jay doing up at four in the morning? Or maybe I don’t want to know.
“I’m awake,” I call out, sniffling and swiping at the moisture under my eyes.
Jamie enters my bedroom, and the door softly shuts behind him. “I was on my way back from getting water when I heard you.” He perches on the edge of my bed, his gaze sad as his eyes drop from my tearstained face to my phone. I don’t even have the energy to shield it from him. “It’s not getting any easier.”
I like that he doesn’t phrase it as a question. I shake my head. “If anything, it’s getting worse.”
“I’m so fucking heartsick for you, mate.” Grasping the back of my head, he presses his forehead to mine. “I never saw it turning out like this. She should be here with you.”
“I fucked up, and now I’m paying the price.” We break apart, and I grab a pack of tissues from my locker and blow my nose.
“Why aren’t you fighting for her?”
“What’s the point? She’s with him.”
“There is no evidence of that. Ash has been stalking both their socials and the general media, and there are no pics, no videos, no sightings of them together.”
“He’s away filming,” I say, confirming I’ve been doing some stalking of my own. It’s a hideous obsession, but I’m like an addict, and I can’t stop. “And her accounts are still inactive. She hasn’t posted anything. She’s not in any of Audrey’s posts either, which is clearly deliberate.”
“That’s explainable after the way the media hounded her last year. It sounds like you’re trying to find excuses instead of tackling this head-on.”
Jay isn’t mincing his words now. “She fucked him the second she returned, Jamie. Given their history, I doubt it was a one-night stand.”
“Jesus. I should slam your head into the wall to knock some sense into you. We don’t know she did that for sure, and even if she did, it doesn’t necessarily mean she’s back with him. They might have history, but that was before you.”
“If that’s true, why hasn’t she sought me out? Our signing was reported in the media. We’ve been papped a few times going in and out of the studio. With her connections, she must know I’m in L.A. If she wanted me, it wouldn’t take much to find me.”
“I forgot how stubborn you are. You’re making a lot of big assumptions, Dil. The truth is, you don’t know what she knows. Maybe she’s aware you’re here. Maybe she believes Aoife is here with you. Perhaps she thinks you don’t care because you haven’t looked her up. She doesn’t know you chased after her. There are too many variables, O’Donoghue. The only way to know is to fucking talk to the girl!”
He's talking sense, but fear is holding me back. What if I’m too late? How will I cope if she looks me in the eye and tells me she doesn’t love me anymore?
Air blows out of his mouth. “I know this might seem harsh, but you need a kick up the arse, mate. This isn’t the Dillon O’Donoghue I know. That motherfucker would not let anything stop him from going after what he wants.”
“I don’t think I can handle her rejection a second time.” I finally admit the truth.
“You can, and you would.” A stern expression crosses his face. “Find your fucking balls, Dil, and go see her. At least you’ll have closure, one way or another, instead of existing in this limbo state. We are on the verge of achieving our wildest dreams, and you can’t fully enjoy it because you’re too preoccupied with her.” He holds up his hands when I open my mouth to protest. “Not that I’m complaining. The new stuff you’re writing is exceptional, but I hate seeing you like this. We all do.”
“Guess I’m not fooling anyone, huh?”
“You don’t make it obvious, but we know you, and we fucking care. I’m saying this now because I fucking love you.” He slaps a hand over his heart. “When you hurt, we hurt. Don’t ruin this experience because you’re pining for her. It’s time to stop licking your wounds and go do something about it. You wouldn’t be my best mate if you didn’t.”