Chapter 51
51
AGE 25 TO 26
A few months later, I check into rehab. Not for alcohol addiction, like the rumors are suggesting. I probably drink too much, but it’s a choice, not an addiction. I need help but not to stop drinking. My head is still a mess over a woman I haven’t been with in years, a woman who is married and lost to me forever, and it’s starting to impact my career. I’ve had writer’s block for months, and my mood is at an all-time low. It’s time to tackle it with professional help.
The label are surprisingly supportive, deciding to release a mini EP with the tracks we’ve already laid down after I get out of rehab and push the full album out to next year. It takes a lot of pressure off my shoulders, and I’m grateful I can take this time to try to sort myself out.
Ash and Jay lost their baby, and it’s been a difficult time even if they are now engaged and planning their future together. Ro’s girlfriend is pregnant, and while I know my sister is happy for them, it serves as a permanent reminder of all she’s lost. I’ve tried to support and comfort her, but it’s hard to prop someone up when you’re basically sprawling on the ground. Ash has Jamie, and he’ll take care of her while I attempt to fix my head.
Rehab helps, but I’ve come to realize there is no permanent cure. Instead, I’m hoping the tools I’ve learned will help me to cope better in the future. The time away has done me good, and I’m feeling calmer and more in control.
Ten days after I leave rehab, we release our mini EP and travel around the US and Europe for a few months to promote it which helps to keep my mind occupied.
We return to L.A. in December, and Ro makes it back for the delivery of his little baby daughter by the skin of his teeth. Next year, we’ll begin work on a new full-length album and prepare for a tour which will kick off the following year. In the meantime, we all enjoy a much-needed break over the Christmas period.
Though I attend lots of parties, I always return home alone. I haven’t fucked anyone in months, and I have no plans to change that. I’m not interested in anyone else. And I find myself back at square one. Frustrated and pissed off to still be hung up on the one woman I can’t have.
Anger flares again, and I begin strategizing how I can use my industry contracts to leak the news about the Lancasters. I’m done holding back. Fuck what my therapist said in rehab. He loved reminding me that planning revenge got me into this mess in the first place, constantly stating the only way to fully heal was to let it go. But he didn’t get it. He didn’t understand the torture my life has been these past few years or how I’ll never get out from under it as long as the Lancasters continue to have the upper hand.
The only way I can move forward is to exact revenge, and I’m done waiting. It’s time to stop obsessing and start planning.
A few days later, the Oscar nominations are announced, and we’re on the list along with my twin. That prick seems determined to ruin every special occasion for me. Someone up there sure loves fucking with me. At least it means I’ll get to see her in the flesh. There’s no way she won’t be there to support her husband, and she can’t avoid me this time; I won’t let her.
“You should go easy on that,” Ash says, her face awash with concern as we sit across from one another in the limousine en route to the Dolby Theatre where the Oscar ceremony is taking place.
“You should mind your own business.” I drill her with a ‘butt out’ look before I lift the bottle of JD to my lips again and take a healthy glug.
“Shut your fucking face, Dil, or I’ll shut it for you.” Jamie glares at me. “You’re not taking your shitty mood out on my fiancée. Not after everything she’s done to organize tonight.”
Ordinarily, I love how my best mate rushes to defend my beloved sister. He always takes her side these days, and I only love him more for it. But tonight, it’s just another thing that’s grinding on my nerves. I’ve been in a pissy mood for weeks the closer we got to the ceremony. This is a big deal for the band. The Academy nominated Collateral Damage for the best original song, and I should be over the fucking moon.
Yet all I can think about is my imminent reunion with the woman who ripped my heart from my chest before pulverizing it to dust.
Fuck her and fuck him. Fuck them for ruining what should be a joyous occasion and something to celebrate.
“I’m worried about you,” Ash adds.
“Worry about yourself,” I say through gritted teeth. I open my mouth to hurl vitriol but stop before the hurtful words leave my lips. Tonight will be hard for Ash, too. Jamie is right. It’s unfair to take this out on my sister.
“I’m sorry,” I say before swigging from the bottle. “It’s not fair to take my shitty mood out on you. I hate I’m in a shitty mood. If I could snap out of it, I would.”
“Drinking yourself into a stupor won’t help.” Ash smooths a hand down the front of her silver-and-gold designer dress.
She ditched the pixie cut a few years ago, but she still wears her strawberry-blonde hair short, falling in sharp lines to her chin. The hair and makeup people did a great job, and she looks like she fits in with the snooty crowd. Unlike the rest of us degenerates. On this rare occasion, Jamie sided with the band, and we refused, en masse, to wear tuxedos tonight.
We’re a rock band, and Hollywood can take us as we come or leave us.
However, the event has a formal dress code, and we were told, in no uncertain terms, they would refuse us entry if we showed up in jeans and leather jackets. It caused World War Three, and at first, we were adamant we weren’t backing down, but ultimately, we did. For Ash. And our mums. They’re getting a kick out of us attending the ceremony. So, we’re all wearing penguin suits, under protest, and trying not to look pissy about it.
I didn’t want to opt for a traditional tux, so I’m wearing a fitted black Armani jacket with silk lapels bordered in red and black trousers. For our performance, I’m wearing my signature black T-shirt, ripped black jeans, and my trusty scuffed boots.
“You look stunning,” I tell Ash, wanting to make amends. It’s not her fault the Lancasters will be here. I’m sure if she could’ve done something about it, she would have. But that prick is up for a best actor Oscar, and it’s not like he’s gonna be a no-show.
“And you’re deflecting.” Air whooshes out of her mouth as she leans back against the leather seat.
Jamie presses a kiss to her head, shooting me a warning look.
Conor stares out the window as he smokes a blunt, seemingly disinterested, but I know he’s listening to every word. He didn’t bring a date because he’s in between girlfriends, and I didn’t bring a date because I don’t date. It’s not worth the hassle. It’s easy finding a willing body when I want to fuck, but like I said, even that’s lost its appeal in recent months.
“Don’t fucking ignore me, Dil,” Ash hisses, leaning forward to jab me in the chest.
I return my attention to my sister. “If you’re worried about my performance, don’t be. I’ve been drunk onstage before, and I have never once fucked up or let the band down. And I’m not even close to drunk yet.” For some inexplicable reason, drinking before we go onstage has helped my performance in the past. Go figure.
Ash pins me with a probing look. “You know what I’m worried about.”
“Why do you think I’m trying to drink myself into oblivion?” I snap, dragging a hand through my white-blond hair.
“Give me some of that,” Ro says, swiping the bottle from my fingers. “I could use a trip to oblivion myself.”
Ash curses under her breath as she watches our younger brother drink the whiskey. “Drowning your sorrows in a bottle is not the solution, Ro.”
“Clo is leaving with my daughter in ten days, and I don’t know when I’ll see either of them again. I’m fucking distraught, Ash, and right now, drowning my sorrows in a whiskey haze sounds like the perfect solution.”
We have a new album to record and a few festivals to play in the coming six months, so Ro can’t ditch L.A. for Wicklow like his selfish fiancée is doing. I’m not completely heartless. I know it’s tough for Clodagh here with a two-month-old when she knows no one, but her parents and her sister have only just returned to Ireland after weeks in L.A., and she hasn’t given it a chance. She is bailing before she even attempted to settle here.
Ro has bent over backwards for her. Buying her a house in Santa Monica so she has the beach at her fingertips. Installing an indoor pool, jacuzzi, and personal treatment rooms when she asked for them. Organizing a baby shower and inviting the girlfriends and wives of some of the crew and industry people we hang out with in the hopes she could make new friends. Flying her friends and family in via private jet so they could surprise her. Purchasing supplies for the vegetable garden she said she wanted to grow, even though they all sit gathering dust in their garage.
I feel for my brother. I know this is not what he planned when he proposed to his pregnant girlfriend last year. He saw them building a future together, and it wasn’t via a trans-Atlantic long-distance relationship.
I don’t think they’re a good match, but I haven’t said it. It’s not my place to interfere. I hate seeing my brother upset, and I’m trying to be there for him because I don’t see how this will end well.
“You two are going to be the death of me.” Ash shakes her head, but there is only sadness in her gaze. “This should be a joyous occasion. They have nominated you for an Oscar. A fucking Oscar.” Her eyes latch on to mine. “Remember when we used to stay up until the early hours of the morning to watch the ceremony even though we had school the next day?”
“I remember.” I hated the pomp and ceremony, the hypocrisy, and disgusting display of wealth and smug self-satisfaction. Still, I endured monotonous hours of “Live on the Red Carpet” and the long-drawn-out awards show purely for my sister. Ash loved dissecting the women’s outfits and drooling over Hollywood’s leading men. I usually spent the night trying not to give myself eye strain and combating a permanent headache.
“This is a big deal, and I want you to enjoy it.” She folds her hands in her lap, pinning me with a familiar glacial look.
“I’d enjoy it if she wasn’t there with him .” Fuck, the whiskey is making me more talkative than usual. I’m pretty good at acting blasé and pretending I don’t have feelings for her beyond loathing. It’s all such a lie. Jamie is the only one who knows the truth, and it’s the one secret he has kept between us.
“It’s been almost six years, Dil. When are you going to let go of the hatred?” Ash asks. “I know she hurt you by running straight back to him. My heart ached for you, but it’s in the past. Time has moved on, and you’ve got to let it go. She hurt me too, but life is too short to bear grudges. She’s moved on. You need to move on, too.”
“I don’t want to talk about them. It’s giving me a headache.” I grab the bottle from my little brother and knock back a few mouthfuls as our car joins the line of limousines waiting to pull up in front of the theatre. Crowds line both sides of the street, monitored by LAPD’s finest. Security is tight for the event, both inside and outside the venue.
“Fine. Have it your way, but I’m warning you both now to be on your best behavior tonight. Remember, your actions reflect on the entire band. When we step out of this car, you’ll both leave your women troubles behind.” Her sharp gaze dances between me and Ro. “I mean it.” She snatches the bottle, daring me to fight her on it, but I just shrug and smile. She doesn’t know I have a naggin of whiskey in my inside jacket pocket. “This is a special occasion, and nothing is going to dampen the mood. Got it?”