CHAPTER SEVEN
TOMMY
SIX YEARS LATER
Brett strums the first few chords of our song Deep Down on his guitar, while Ash singles out his wife from the crowd below. He bows his head towards her to signal we’re one song away from the end of the show. It’s time for Calla and the rest of the girls to go backstage.
From my elevated position behind the drums, I see them making their way to the exit, and I remember a time when Chelsea would join them. Not so much anymore. Tonight, she’s not even looking my way, so I guess she has other plans. I don’t know why she bothers to turn up at all.
As the song ends, our instruments mix into our next number, Honesty. It’s a song we never miss from our set list. The bass and drums are hard going on this one. Max and I give it everything we have.
Brett struts around the stage as if he owns the place, lapping up the attention from women at every angle while showing the guys what a kick-arse guitarist he is.
His solo during this song is off the charts, but despite all that, just one man steals this show.
Ash is belting it out with every breath he owns and none of us can compete with his stratospheric level of cool.
When he demands the lights go up, well, they go up.
“I wanna see your faces while you sing,” he says to the crowd, and every single person in the twenty-thousand-plus arena gives him what he wants. They lift the roof off this iconic building during the final chorus. I feel like a king as I listen to their voices singing our words.
When the final chord plays, Ash holds his last note for our undying fans and their appreciation is deafening.
“Thank you, Madison Square Garden. We’ve been Koolum Law, and we bid you goodnight!”
We run to the front of the stage, soak in every second of their applause, and take a collective bow. Part of me doesn’t want to go, but that was our second encore and it’s better to leave the crowd wanting more.
Dylan Jennings is waiting stage-side to say hi. He’s been a guest on the tour for a while with his band, Vocational Rock. We love their work and we’ve become good friends. His hand goes up and we high-five as I pass.
“That was incredible, Tommy. The crowd is going wild out there. You guys are legends,” he calls behind me.
“Thanks, man,” I shout, taking a towel from the stand and rubbing it over my hair. “I’ll catch up with you later. Yeah?”
Right now, I’m making my way through a crowded corridor crammed with familiar faces from the music world who watched the show tonight.
They’re also here for the after-party going on backstage, as tomorrow night’s celebration is for staff only.
We will play our last gig of the tour and say a fond farewell to our crew for at least six months.
After a couple of hours, Ash and Calla go home, Brett is missing, and Max follows the party to a nearby house belonging to Dylan.
Instead of following Max to the next party, I call it a night.
I know my boy will be fast asleep, but I want to see him anyway, and I need to have a conversation with Chelsea.
We haven’t been getting along lately, and every time I try to talk to her, she flies off the handle.
Still, I have to keep the peace for my son’s sake, even though I know something is going on with her.
I hope her sharp exit from the gig tonight is down to spending time with our kid and nothing else. I suppose I’ll soon find out.
“Chelsea, are you here?” I call out as I enter our open-plan apartment. The TV is on with no sound, and no one is watching.
Then her voice snaps from our bedroom, “Keep it down. It took Connie an age to get Ozzie to sleep.”
Half of me would love to wake my boy for a hug.
I walk into the bedroom, just as she slams the door to the bathroom. Leaning against the doorframe with my head against the door I ask, “Is everything okay?”
“Yep.” She sounds annoyed.
“It’s just you didn’t hang around after the gig. I thought something was wrong.”
“Nothing wrong. I have things to do.” When the door swings back, I lose my footing a little, not expecting her to exit so quickly.
“Well, don’t you look nice.” My hands slip into the pocket of my jeans as I follow her. She’s all red lipstick, a short black dress, and thigh-length boots. “I guess this welcome isn’t for me.”
“Ugh, don’t start now, Tommy. You’re getting in my way.” She turns around and pushes her hand against my chest. “I’m in a rush.”
“In a rush for what, exactly?” I ask as she walks past. I’ve got a good idea, but I want to hear her version.
“It’s a late party. Girls’ night,” she says while looking in the mirror and fluffing her hair with her fingers.
My jaw ticks in annoyance. “You’re going out with the girls now? It’s gone one a.m.,” I growl. “Why are you making a lot of effort for your friends all of a sudden.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asks while applying another layer of lipstick.
“Exactly how it sounded.”
“It sounded like you don’t trust me.” Her eyes catch mine via her reflection in the mirror.
I glare her way. Do I really have to say it?
I wonder then if I’ve ever trusted her. When I found out I was going to be a dad, I got spooked, and the news put a whole new spin on my decision to leave her.
Even though, deep down, I knew I should go for custody, I did a U-turn and married her instead. I was worried I’d lose if I went to court and my biggest fear was Chelsea disappearing with my kid. I knew she wasn’t the girl for me, but I had to try and make it work for my son.
Chelsea and I married in Vegas, and Ozzie was born just over seven months later. For a while, I convinced myself I’d done the decent thing. Nowadays, I’m just trying to get along with my wife. Chelsea tries my patience every fucking day.
Take this last tour. She decided it would be good if she and Ozzie joined us, and I was more than happy to have my family with me.
She’d never suggested it before. The thing is, I’ve hardly seen her.
She spent her days shopping or at the spa while I divided time between the band and Ozzie.
Thank God Connie arrived when she did. We’ve always had nannies from the day Ozzie was born, but they never stay too long.
Connie’s been with us just over a year now, so I hope she’ll be different.
“Why are you staring at me like that?” Chelsea asks.
As usual, she doesn’t get why I’m so pissed off. I don’t believe this girl.
“You shouldn’t be going out and leaving our boy.”
“Oh, here we go. You expect me to look after your son twenty-four seven, but I need a break.”
A laugh falls from my mouth. Her whole life is one big break. “You’re never fucking here for him. Our nanny is more of a mother figure than you. Jesus, you’re a piece of work.”
She sighs out a breath. “I need me time, Tommy. Time with my friends.”
“You’re out with them every night. How much time do you need?”
“You don’t understand. It’s hard being a mum. I get so tired.”
She’s got some nerve. “You’re tired because you party all night and our son has to wait until noon before you get out of your pit.”
“Hey,” she calls out, throwing her hands in the air. “When you’re away partying with the band for months on end, do I complain?” Her hand rests on her chest as if to emphasise she has a heart. What a joke.
I huff out a laugh. “It’s called working, Chelsea. Yeah, maybe we do kick back and enjoy a little R&R, but nobody partied harder than you during our last tour.”
“You wanted me to be there, Tommy. I didn’t have to come.”
“Then why did you ask? There I was thinking you finally wanted some time with your family. It wouldn’t kill you to get to know Calla and the kids, but you weren’t interested in them either. You know she goes everywhere with Ash, and if you really wanted, you could do the same.”
Placing her hands on her head, she fists her hair between her fingers and turns in the opposite direction, pacing up and down. “Not this again. Saint fucking Calla.”
“Hey, watch your mouth. Don’t you dare speak about her like that.”
“Wow, you’re touchy about your best friend’s wife,” she says, glaring right at me.
Jesus, she has this whole jealousy thing about Calla. It’s driving me insane. “Don’t even attempt to go there. You wouldn’t know what a genuine person was if you fell over one. I’ve known Calla for a long time. She’s a good friend and a fucking awesome wife and mother.”
“Ah, I see. You’re saying I’m not,” she says with her hands on her hips.
“You’ve got that right.”
“Fuck you!” she screams in my face and flies into a rage while searching through her wardrobe.
“Hey, keep it down, mother of year. You don’t want to wake our boy,” I say sarcastically. She ignores me completely and when she finds her black leather jacket, she slings it over her shoulder and storms past me into the lounge.
As I follow, I make my feelings clear. “I don’t know what plans you had tonight, but you need to cancel them. We’ve got issues to talk about.”
“Not happening,” she spits over her shoulder.
“Don’t push me, Chelsea.”
“Oh, rot in hell, why don’t you! I hate you!”
I stare for a moment, letting her words sink in. “Okay, now the truth is coming out.” I raise my brows.
“I think it’s time, don’t you?”
“Well, if you hate me so much, why are we still married?”
She falls silent, but I know the answer. She likes the lifestyle and, so far, I’ve let her get away with anything and everything just so my son has some kind of home. I’m no longer sure living in a marriage full of hate is the best environment for a little kid.
She sighs, then saunters over with a pout. Her fingers link around the back of my neck as she rises onto her toes. Her lips press to mine, but I make a point of not kissing her back. “Baby, I’ll just be gone a few hours—”
“No.” I grip her wrists and rip her hands away from me. “You’re not going.”
“How dare you,” she hisses. “I will do whatever the hell I like. Jesus,” she mutters. “I’ve got a good mind to stay out all night.”