23. Mai
Mai
Mai rode in the back of the car that Donnie sent for her, fidgeting with the itchy wig she wore.
It had seemed like a smart idea to have photos taken looking like Sie Harrington rather than Doctor Maisie Jones. But now, as she sat in the wig that she bought online, she was bitterly regretting her decision.
Her whole scalp itched and prickled. The tight black jeans weren’t helping the situation either. She never wore tight clothes normally, and they had ridden up places she would prefer they didn’t.
And the bloody violet contact lenses, how the hell had she worn these twenty-four hours a day?
She must have been a total idiot. She would much rather be wearing her glasses—which were stashed in her handbag—but she needed to be Sie for the photos, and pink glasses did not fit that image, so she poked her own eyeballs while cursing grumpily.
Was this a dumb idea? Should she just ask the driver to take her home again?
Pulling her phone out of her handbag, she Googled Sie Harrington and sighed. Where yesterday the stories about her were four pages into the Google results, they were now on the first page. They needed to get in front of this story before people came looking for her.
Stuffing her phone away, she stared out of the car window, watching as the houses gave way to bush on their way out of town to the place Ford was renting.
The closer she got to him, the faster her heart beat. She desperately tried not to replay their kiss over and over in her mind, but failed as all she could think about was his lips moving over hers and the way it felt so right, like coming home.
She lifted her hand, pressing her knuckles against her mouth. She needed to get over it; Ford would never forgive her for what she did. She didn’t know why he kissed her, but she couldn’t become carried away reading things into it that weren’t there.
He was world-famous now. He could have any woman he wanted, from Supermodel to Nobel Laureate, no woman would be immune to the charm of Ford. The charm that he used to direct solely at her now wasn’t hers to claim.
Ford kissed her because he was in shock to see her, nothing more. Ford the rockstar hadn’t been pining after his first love for sixteen years, however much she’d missed him.
When they pulled up in front of the house, she wasn’t ready to get out and face the band. She should definitely ask the driver to take her home again. This was a terrible idea.
The driver took the decision out of her hands by dashing around the car and opening the door for her. Staring up at the house, she took a final deep breath and swung her jean-clad legs out. Reminding herself of the character that she used to be.
She was Sie Harrington, founding member of Midnight Thunder. She wasn’t afraid of meeting the band that she played a huge role in making the success they were today.
A voice whispered in the back of her mind that she hadn’t been a small part; her lyrics were in every song they ever recorded. She helped with their success and had the right to talk to them with her chin held high, despite the mistakes she’d made all those years ago.
As she walked up the steps to the house, she realised the door was ajar, and she could hear the conversation inside.
“Shit. Why didn’t you tell us? Fuck, you guys got married?” Joel’s voice echoed in her ears.
Fuck, she’d hoped that the married part might not have been revealed to the others; clearly, that wasn’t the case.
Ford answered him. “Yeah. You’re right, Donnie. If Scotty and Joel agree, the statement is exactly what should be said.”
“Married,” Joel said again, his voice getting higher and louder.
Mai pushed the door open, stepping into the living room. Her eyes immediately swung to Ford; she couldn’t help herself. Then she ripped them away again.
“We were young and in love,” she said quietly.
Mai’s eyes widened when, in the silence that her presence caused, Ford was across the room and in front of her. He reached out and touched her hair without saying anything.
She didn’t know what to do. She loved him.
Her gaze flew to Ford, and their eyes locked. There was so much she should say, but all she wanted to do was tell him that she still loved him. Had always loved him and would never stop.
She stepped away from him and dragged her eyes from his, turning to smile at Joel and Scotty.
“Hi, guys.” She gave them a little wave, unsure how they would be feeling about her.
Scotty dashed across the room and shoved Ford out of the way. Gathering her up into a bear hug, he picked her up off the floor—using the muscles hard earned by years of drumming—and spun her around.
“Fuck, Sie. It’s good to see you.”
When Scotty put her down, she was breathless and couldn’t stop the giggle that came out. “You too.”
Joel was on her next, snatching her out of Scotty’s grip and hugging her tight as well. “We assumed you were dead. You look good for a ghost.”
“Yeah.” Mai extracted herself from his embrace, her eyes flicking to Ford, who was glaring at his bandmates with murder in his eyes. Shit, was he upset they were touching her?
No, that was an arrogant thought. He was irritated that they were greeting her as if sixteen years hadn’t happened.
“You’ve not changed at all.” Joel reached out and touched her hair. His eyes snapped to Ford when a low growl came from the singer, and the bassist dropped his hand.
Mai couldn’t look at Ford. She wasn’t ready to see the expression on his face, so instead, she focused on the other two members of Midnight Thunder.
“Not dead. I was young and didn’t know how to handle my grief. Then time passed. You guys reached the stratosphere, and it felt too late to reach out.” Mai’s gaze flitted to Ford and away. He was staring at her as if he could see into her soul.
“You’re a bloody doctor?” Scotty questioned. Even though he obviously already knew the answer.
Mai nodded. “Yeah. I specialise in newborn babies.”
“I knew you were too smart to stay with that guy.” Joel laughed loudly like he’d made the funniest joke.
She didn’t even try to smile, and heard another growl from Ford. They needed to steer this meeting in a safer direction, or they would never get a photo of the four of them together.
Her gaze dropped to her feet. “I think I was the stupid one.” She pulled her eyes back up. “I can never apologise enough for leaving the way I did. I can’t change the way I did things back then. I was a bloody idiot. I hope one day you’ll be able to forgive me.”
She couldn’t stop herself from looking at Ford, and her heart sank when he glared back at her.
He would never forgive her.
“Beer?” Scotty offered, which made Mai’s lips quirk up.
“No. I’m good, thanks.”
“Let’s not stand in the doorway. Come in, Sie.” Donnie walked forward and put an arm over her shoulder, drawing her into the room.
Mai didn’t take more than two paces before Ford thrust something at her. She grabbed hold of it reflexively, her hands knowing what it was. It was the guitar she left behind. The one she bought when they got a little bit of money for the first time.
Her eyes filled with tears as she stroked her hand over the smooth surface. After a long moment of revelling in the feeling of her guitar, she tried to give it back. It had been Ford’s for sixteen years; he used it in their shows. It was more his than it had ever been hers.
He didn’t take it. “It’s yours,” he said gruffly.
“No. Ford. I can’t. You kept it. It belongs to you.” She pushed it at him again.
“It’s not. It’s never been mine. Now you’re back, I’m not keeping it.” Ford turned his back on her and walked away, opening the front door and leaving the house.
Mai’s heart cracked as he left. It was hard to see the confirmation of how much he hated her.
She dragged her eyes away from the door and stared down at the guitar she cradled in her arms.
The memories flooded back. She remembered when she chose it. She took Ford to the music shop and spent hours going from guitar to guitar—much to the irritation of the owner, who initially wanted her to pick one and leave.
When she had her selection down to two guitars, she asked to play them, and his whole attitude changed, and recognition sparked behind the owner’s eyes when she played Summer Days. Their song, which was getting a huge amount of airtime on the radio.
“It’s a good song,” the owner commented. “Midnight Thunder will be massive one day.”
“Yeah,” Ford agreed, his eyes not leaving Mai.
“She’s good.” The owner’s head bobbed along to the music.
“Yeah,” Ford agreed again.
“Does she play a lot?” He didn’t bother addressing Mai; she was lost in the music.
“All the time. And she writes music.”
Realisation dawned in the owner’s eyes. “You guys, you’re…“ he hesitated and peered harder at Ford. “You guys are Midnight Thunder, aren’t you?”
“Yep. That’s us.”
Mai closed her eyes and played, ignoring the shop owner who was now gushing over Ford.
She never liked that part of the job. She wanted to play and write music.
She didn’t want people telling her that they loved her or her music.
She didn’t need that. For her, the music was enough, and she was happy to stand behind Ford as he charmingly dealt with the adoration that was becoming more and more frequent.
When she started the next chorus, Ford began to sing along. Opening her eyes, she grinned at him.
This was the one. This was her guitar.
Their gazes locked, lost in the song they wrote together. The song that would soon be known to nearly everyone in the world.
When she walked out of the shop holding the guitar, she never thought she would let it go, that one day, she would run away, leaving it behind.
And now, so many years later, the memory of that day was so fresh, so clear, that the years she’d spent as a doctor felt like another life. For a moment, she wondered what life would have been like if she’d stayed. If she’d let Ford be everything he promised her he was going to be.
“There are amps in the shed.” Donnie’s voice broke through her musing.
Mai blinked, aware that her eyes were wet. She wasn’t sure if it was from the memories that assaulted her or the fact that Ford walked away from her. Maybe it was both.
“That’s great.” Mai pulled herself together. “Do you guys mind if I go and play for a few minutes?”
Scotty and Joel shook their heads, and the drummer added, “If you play, we play.”
Tears gathered again in Mai’s eyes. They still wanted to play with her. She had assumed they would take one photo, and that would be it.
Her fingers itched for the guitar, and she didn’t hesitate in saying, “Yes. Please.”
Donnie led them out of the house to a large wooden shed out back. He pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked the padlock before sliding the door open.
Mai couldn’t help but laugh; their scheming manager—shit, she corrected herself, he wasn’t her manager—had set up a full rehearsal space for them.
It was bright and airy with the door open, and the dust motes danced in the rays of sunshine. It was the kind of place that would look amazing in a music video.
Her eyes swung to Donnie and narrowed. “Nice set-up.”
He shrugged, his face blank. “I wasn’t sure how long Ford would be here, and figured if the guys came up to visit, they might want to jam.”
“Uh-huh.” Mai didn’t believe a word he said.
This was a total setup to make her play with the band again. And at this moment, she didn’t care. She wanted to feel what it was like to perform with other people. Would it be muscle memory? Or was sixteen years of only ever playing solo going to make her rusty?
Without thinking, she walked over to the amp on the right side of the microphone that was positioned in the centre. Stage right had always been her spot. Plugging her guitar into the amp, she strummed it and then leaned down to fiddle with the amp, strumming it again until she was satisfied.
Her fingers hovered over the guitar. What was she going to play?
The decision was taken off her when Scotty tapped his drumsticks together to count them in, and Joel launched into the bassline for Thunder Nights, a song off their first album. A song she wrote with Ford between make-out sessions in her old room.
She nodded her head, getting herself on beat, then played the first guitar riff. She didn’t even have to think; her fingers flew over the frets of the guitar as she synced herself effortlessly to the band.
Closing her eyes, she lost herself in the music.
They flew open when Ford’s raspy voice growled out the lyrics to the chorus. She couldn’t stop herself; a grin broader than anything she'd smiled for a long time spread across her face. She locked eyes with Ford and played as if her life depended on it.