CHAPTER TWO
TOMMY
ONE WEEK LATER
“Where are you?” My manager’s panicked voice freaks me out.
“Hey, Bernie. What’s going on?” I ask as my girlfriend’s roaming hands circle my shoulders from behind.
“Boo. Miss me?” Her giggle echoes in my ear as her mouth brushes my cheek.
Earlier, she dragged me around every fucking airport shop in the terminal, which eventually drove me crazy.
Deciding the First-Class lounge was a much better option, I gave her free rein with my credit card.
I didn’t give a shit how much she spent.
I just wanted out of there. Now she’s back after squeezing my wallet dry and determined to mess with my concentration.
“One minute, babe,” I mouth and hold up a finger before turning in the opposite direction. I also grab my whiskey, draining it with one gulp before I speak to our manager again. I need the burn. “Sorry. Is everything okay?”
“Where are you?”
“Still waiting for our flight to LA, and I’m about to demolish my second double whiskey.” As the lounge is quiet, I requested the guy behind the bar keep them coming. He’s doing an excellent job so far.
“What does he want?” Chelsea jumps in front of me, mouthing her words while pointing at my phone. I can’t deal with her now and turn away. Placing a finger in my ear in an attempt to hear Bernie, I ask him, “Are you still there?”
His deep tone lowers further. “I’m here, but I’m afraid I have some terrible news.”
My blood runs cold and my head spins.
“If you’re near a seat, I suggest you take it, son.”
My choice is to continue pacing the floor and move as far away from Chelsea as I can. “What is it?”
His long, heavy sigh rings alarm bells. “Ash was involved in an accident early this morning.”
“What the fu—” My fingers comb nervously through my shaggy hair. “What happened?”
“Not sure. The police are here now and ready to escort us to the hospital, but they won’t say much.”
“They won’t tell you how he is?”
“They said the doctors will update us once we get there.”
“Fuck! Are you sure it’s Ash? Isn’t he already in LA?” We were all flying out at different points this week to record our new album and play a one-off gig.
“He changed his plans and was flying later. I’m sorry. It’s definitely him. That’s all I know.”
“Why won’t they tell us anything? I don’t like the sound of this.”
“Me neither.”
My head is now mush as dread fills my stomach. “I'm leaving the airport now, Bern. Which hospital do I go to?”
“Braebeach General.”
“What about the rest of the guys?” I ask, referring to my brothers in the band.
“Brett is already in LA, but Dani is trying to contact Max now—oh, wait a sec. Dani’s here and she needs to speak to me.”
Bernie and his daughter, Dani, exchange information with muffled voices, then he’s back on the line. “Dani says a car is coming for you. Once word gets out about the accident, the whole town will be bedlam, so security is key. We can’t have you roaming the airport looking for a taxi.”
“Okay.”
“Hang on, Dani wants a word,” he says again as she takes over the call. Dani is not only Bernie’s daughter but head of PR.
“The airline is sending a buggy to the First-Class lounge in a few minutes. They’ll take you straight to a waiting car. You got that?” Dani barks.
“Yeah, I got it.”
She’s brash, but we’re used to it. Dani has worked with us forever and discovered our band. It’s thanks to her that we signed with Election Records in the first place.
Bernie is now back on the line. “Tommy, are you all right?”
“No, Bern. I'm not.” I pace around as my body temperature rises. “I'm worried out of my fucking skull.”
“The best thing we can do is keep a level head and not jump to any conclusions.”
My skin prickles. I’m not the type to pray, but today, I will go down on my knees and beg for Ash to be okay. Then something dawns on me. “What about Calla?”
“She’s on her way to the hospital now.”
“And Mrs C?”
“We're picking her up on the way there. That way, we can support Liz in any way we need to.”
“Is she okay?”
“Not great. She's panicking and worried sick.”
“Yeah, of course.” I continue to pace. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. I’m here for them.”
“See you soon.”
“Yeah. Thanks, Bern.”
Tucking my phone into my back pocket, I take in a deep breath, trying to control my beating heart and churning stomach.
“What's going on?” Chelsea asks.
I run my fingers through my hair. “Ash was involved in an accident.”
“Oh my God. What happened?” Her hand covers her mouth.
Her words fade into the background as I try to process the uncontrollable scenarios in my head.
Is it possible that the worst has already happened?
Could the police be shielding the family until we get to the hospital?
My stomach turns and my throat dries. I try to swallow, holding back the tears in my eyes and shake my head to gain some clarity.
Stop. He will be okay. He has to be.
“Tommy?” Her voice knocks me out of my thoughts.
“Sorry. What did you say?” I have to pull myself together. For Ash’s sake.
“What happened to him, Tommy? Is Ash, alright?” she asks, rubbing my arm.
“No idea until I get to the hospital.” I look around, hoping to find the buggy that’s been sent for me.
Chelsea pulls on my arm and steps in my line of sight. “You’re leaving? Now? What about our flight?”
I take a step back. “Are you for real? My brother needs me.”
“Then I’ll come with you. We can catch a taxi outside. Where the hell is the exit out of this place?” She glances around.
“Don’t worry about it. I have a car on the way here now.”
“But—”
“No Chelsea. Just scrap LA and fly home instead.”
She tilts her head. “I could be useful. Why don’t you let me field questions from reporters for you?”
Is she serious? “We have people who do that stuff for us.”
She huffs, folding her arms under her breasts. “All right, if you say so. I won’t bother trying to help.”
I’ve never seen Chelsea act like a brat before and now isn’t the time to start. She’d soon realise the spoiled girlfriend routine doesn't work for me. I’m losing my patience.
Taking a steady breath, I try to explain my reasoning.
“Look, any time now, the press will find out and, once they do, a ton of paps will follow our every move for this story. It’s going to get crazy.
I just think the less attention we bring, the better.
The best thing you can do is fly home to New York and sit tight until I find out more. Until then, talk to no one, okay?”
She pouts. “But my flight is booked for LA, not New York. How am I expected to get there?”
I can’t believe she has to ask. “Go to one of the airlines here. You should be able to book direct.”
“You want me to book it myself?”
For fuck’s sake. “I’m not calling Dani or the team. They’ve got enough shit going on.”
“What about one of your office people?” Her little girl lost routine is grating.
She used to work for an airline, for Christ’s sake, so she knows how they work better than anyone.
But maybe that’s not it. Maybe she’s got used to me taking care of this stuff.
Whatever. I don’t want to get into an argument about it.
“I’ll call them from the car and let you know. ”
“Thank you, baby.”
Her fingers loop around my neck, she rises on her tiptoes, and her tongue licks my earlobe.
“Please, Chelsea. Not now,” I say, removing her hands.
“Mr Graham?” a guy in a dark blue suit, white shirt, and blue tie interrupts. “I have a buggy waiting to take you to your car, sir.”
“Thank you,” I reply as a relieved breath leaves my mouth and my attention returns to Chelsea. “I’ll call you soon.” I'm desperate to reach the hospital and, until I’m certain Ash is okay, I won't be happy.
“This isn’t on, Tommy. I should go with you, otherwise the press might question why I’m not by your side.” Then she gasps. “Oh my God, I can see the headlines now. Tommy Graham and his hot, beautiful model girlfriend, Chelsea Dotrice, are over. The paparazzi will have a field day.”
So, that’s her real reason for wanting to come with me. Not for support or to find out if Ash is okay, but because the press might get the wrong impression. My jaw ticks at the thought. “I couldn’t give a shit about those guys or what they think. Go home, Chelsea.”
She pouts again. “Promise to call as soon as you know more?”
I’m so mad and can’t deal with her crap, so I’ll say anything to get rid of her. “Promise. Speak to you later.” I peck her forehead abruptly. I’m wasting time.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I answer without registering who it is. Walking backwards, I wave towards Chelsea, knowing inside I’m so done with this relationship.
“Hi, this is Tommy.”
“Hey.”
“Max.” I sigh out a heavy breath. I’m relieved to hear his voice. “Have you spoken to Bernie?”
“Yeah, he just called. Are you at the hospital?”
“I'm on my way now.”
“Jesus, this is a nightmare. When I left my place, the press was waiting outside. They’re chasing the story already.”
My heart sinks. Why can’t they just leave us alone? “How did they find out?”
“No idea, but I just heard a news report on the radio. They're saying… Fuck, Tom—”
A cold shiver runs down my spine, I’m almost too afraid to ask because I think I know what his answer will be. I swallow hard and ask anyway. “What? What are they saying?”
He sighs before he replies with a tremble in his voice. “The situation could be much worse than we thought.”
For the second time today, I’m bathed in a cold sweat. “You’re freaking me out, man. What the fuck is happening?” My heart thuds in my ears as his shaky words sink in.
“It’s not looking good, Tommy. There’s been a fatality.”