Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
ASHER
Mac looks over his notes and reads through them with his usual detached efficiency. “You have the tour of the local whiskey distillery with the earl tomorrow at eleven and the film premiere at eight in Edinburgh. The car will pick you and Miss Creed up promptly at six forty-five.”
Perfect. Another afternoon with my father. Another opportunity for him to remind me how much time I wasted gallivanting around in the States when I should have been home learning my place…
“Is there any way it can arrive any earlier?” I ask, referring to the film premiere. We don’t usually get many of those here, but the lead is a local man, and the historical drama was filmed mostly in Scotland. “I’d love to arrange a private dinner for the two of us, if possible.”
His face softens, no longer devoid of emotion. “Yes, my lord. I can certainly have that arranged. Anything in particular in mind?”
I’ve had dinner with Mercury every day for five weeks. I’ve seen her turn up her nose at scallops and devour shrimp. But there’s one thing she eats over and over, without fail. Smiling, I answer. “Italian. She loves pasta.”
“Very good.”
Just as he starts back in with his notes on my upcoming schedule, Niall, the house butler, walks into the sitting room. “Pardon the interruption, my lord, but a guest has arrived at the gate for you.”
“For me?” I’m not expecting anyone today.
“Yes. Normally, we would turn away any unplanned arrivals at the gate seeking an audience with you, but he is on your list of approved guests.”
Since the Darius incident, when my parents turned away my bandmate without my knowledge, I had a heated conversation with my mother, and we both agreed it would be wise for me to send a list to security so that if anyone else showed up, they would not be treated with the same disrespect.
“Send him up.”
“Y-yes, my lord,” he replies, stumbling a little, probably because I didn’t ask who it is.
I don’t need to. There are only a few names on that list, so it’s either one of my bandmates or my manager. But considering our interview with the Morning Star just went live yesterday, I have a good guess who’s here.
I send a quick text to Mercury.
Me
Have you spoken to your brother lately?
She replies almost instantly.
Mercury
Which one?
Me
Hendrix
Mercury
No, why?
Me
Because I think he might have just shown up at the gate.
Mercury
What?!
Moments later, I hear someone running down the hall.
It’s not a sound you typically hear in Blackstone House.
When I was caught running in my youth, I had to spend an extra hour in my mum’s etiquette classes, learning how a gentleman, even the modern variety, did not run through the halls or clomp his feet when he walked.
I hated the old coot who tutored me so much that I never ran in the halls again. So when I hear that sound, my ears perk up, and I say a little prayer for the runner’s sake, hoping my mother isn’t nearby.
Then the double doors swing wide, and a flushed, panicked Mercury barrels in. “What do you mean, my brother is here?”
I can’t help but smile a little at her disheveled appearance.
Her cardigan is half on—she obviously left in a rush—the perfect curls she had this morning are a little frizzy from dashing down the halls, and she’s got this wide-eyed look that tells me she’s not prepared to see her big brother at all.
“Well, I can’t be sure it’s him—”
“What do you mean?” She tries to fix her sweater but fails. “Didn’t you ask?”
“I figured it was fairly obvious who would be knocking, figuratively, of course, on our door a day after the interview went live.”
“Do you think he would be that upset about it?”
I shrug. “He was about the photos from the gala.”
She snorts, still fiddling with her sweater. “God, imagine if he knew—”
“Mac,” I say, interrupting her as she finally turns to notice him standing behind her. She squeaks in alarm as he lets out a rare chuckle.
“Apologies, miss. I didn’t mean to cause a fright.”
“No worries. My fault for not being more aware of my surroundings.”
Remembering what she was about to say, I glance over at my old friend and ask, “Mac, would you mind greeting our guest for me?”
He nods, knowing when I need a minute alone. “My pleasure.”
“Thanks.”
He hurries out of the room to head off the butler, Niall, leaving the two of us alone.
I close the gap between us and gently fix her sweater. A faint blush creeps up her neck and cheeks as she watches me straighten the two panels of fabric.
“Whatever happens between us needs to stay between us,” I reiterate.
She nods, the light in her eyes dimming just slightly. “I know.”
“The whole world thinks we’re dating, and that’s fine,” I continue. “But what we share behind closed doors is just for us. I don’t want anyone else’s opinion or input. Just us, okay?”
That seems to bring her back a little. “Just us.”
I lean in, gripping her chin, almost ready to kiss those lips I’ve been dreaming of, when a knock comes at the door.
“Yes?”
The door opens, and Niall appears. “My lord, your guest is here.”
“Good.” I give Merc one last reassuring glance. “Bring him in?”
“Of course.” He disappears for a moment, and when he returns, he’s not alone.
But our guest? It’s not who I thought it would be.
“Evans?”
My longtime friend and the original bass guitarist for Manic at Midnight gives me a wide smile. “Hey, mate. Long time, no see.”
With a relieved smile and a reassuring pat on my shoulder, Mercury returns to her history lessons down the hall, allowing us some privacy to catch up.
Not that I know what to say.
Maybe that’s been my problem all along.
Evans has always been the quiet, perceptive one.
Growing up, Darius was always charming and funny. Mitch was cocky and a bit rough around the edges, despite his posh upbringing. And I was just angry. Angry and willing to do anything to change my fate.
“Thanks for not turning me away,” Evans says as we both take a seat on the velvet sofa. He’s cut his hair since the last time I saw him. He’d let his honey-brown hair grow out a bit since rehab, but it’s back to its short style. It suits him.
He runs his hands over the rough denim of his jeans, looking oddly out of place. Although he also came from money, his father made his fortune in tech, so he wasn’t accustomed to the stuffy generational wealth the rest of us had.
I always liked that about him.
“That was my mum,” I say. “I had no idea Darius was even here that day.”
“Would it have made a difference?” He echoes the words Mercury asked when she first got here.
“I’m not sure,” I answer honestly. “I wasn’t in a good place at the time.”
“I can appreciate that.” He nods. “I’ve been there a time or two.”
“I know you have, and I’m sorry to let you down after everything you’ve been through to come back to us.”
“I didn’t go to rehab for the band, Ash,” he reiterates. “I went to rehab because I’m an alcoholic. What decisions you or anyone else make don’t change the fact that I needed to go—for me, and only me. Does that make sense?”
“Yeah,” I acknowledge. “Of course it does.”
“Good. Then I need you to stop blaming yourself for everything that has happened to the band.”
“I—”
He holds up a hand, halting my argument. “You don’t think we don’t see it, Ash? Ever since Mitch, you’ve been different.”
“I just didn’t want to make the same mistakes again, but—”
He shakes his head, already knowing what I’m going to say.
“I am not Mitch,” he says. “I know you beat yourself up because you think you failed Mitch in some way, but he was the sole cause of his own demise, Ash. It wasn’t drug addiction.
It wasn’t alcoholism. It was just his own inflated sense of self-worth that took him down a path none of us could follow. ”
I swallow hard, hating the memories of that time in our lives. I still remember the phone call from Mitch, begging me to help him out.
“You did what?” I say, unable to believe the words that just came out of his mouth.
“I know, mate. I know. But she didn’t look that young. And besides, she came on to me.”
I run a hand down my face. This can’t be the same man I grew up with. It just can’t be. “Are you fucking kidding me? You can’t put the blame on her, Mitch. You are a fucking adult!”
He rolls his eyes, like he doesn’t understand the gravity of what he’s done. “Oh, come on, like you’ve never—”
“I’ve never,” I snap, disgusted by his accusation. “I would never.”
“Whatever.”
My jaw tics as I try to keep my cool. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know,” he says, a panic in his voice I don’t recognize. “I tried to offer her money, you know, to take care of it.”
My eyes widen in horror. “Please tell me you’re joking?”
“I didn’t know what else to do, Ash!” he seethes. “Not all of us are fucking perfect. But she said she didn’t want my money, and now her parents are threatening to sue. You’ve got to help me.”
I swallow hard, hating what I’m about to say. “I can’t.”
“What do you mean, you can’t?”
“I mean, I can’t, and frankly, I don’t want to. The band can’t be caught in the middle of this, Mitch. This is something you need to deal with on your own.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying you’re fired.” My eyes squeeze shut as my voice trembles. “You’re no longer a member of Manic at Midnight.”
“And you?” I ask. “How can you say I didn’t fail you? After everything we went through with Mitch, the three of us were supposed to be closer. But you’re right—I did change. I pulled back, withdrew from the only family I knew. And because of that, I didn’t see the signs. I didn’t know—”
“I didn’t let you see, Ash. I didn’t want any of you to see that I was struggling.”
I contemplate his words as I think back to that first world tour we did after Mitch left. We’d just signed Zander, and things were finally starting to settle, or so I thought.
“There were signs, though, weren’t there?” I say, remembering how I thought it was odd that our quiet bassist was suddenly going out more and staying in less.
“Yes,” he admits with a solemn nod. “At first, I just wanted to feel numb. That was the depression talking, or so my therapist tells me. So I’d go out and party, drinking until I blacked out. But eventually, even the numbness wasn’t enough.”
“I’m so sorry, Evans. We should have talked about this more when you came to me last spring and said you needed help.”
“I wasn’t ready then. I don’t think I even understood what I was going through—just that I was tired of feeling like shit and knew I couldn’t keep going down the path I was on.”
“Well, I’m glad you did.”
“Thank you for being there for me.”
“Always,” I say, meaning it.
“What about you?” he asks, relaxing a little on the sofa. “You said you were in a bad place. Does that mean you’re doing better now?”
I nod before I even realize it. “Yeah.” I smile. “Yeah, I am.”
A knowing grin spreads across his face. “Would Hen’s sister have anything to do with that?” I wait a beat too long to answer, and Evans shakes his head, chuckling under his breath. “You’re in so much trouble.”
“It’s just a PR stunt.”
“And that’s exactly what you need to keep telling Hen,” he says. “’Cause if he finds out you’re fucking his little sister after you told him you wouldn’t—”
“We’re not…” He tilts his head, his expression full of doubt as I remember the way Mercury’s eyes filled with surprise when I told her last week I wanted to be her first. She’s been dying of anticipation ever since, waiting for me to make a move.
I’m not sure I can hold out much longer.
“Yeah, okay.” I let out a long sigh. “I’m seriously fucked.”