Mirrored (Follow Your Bliss series Book 4) (7 page)

Chapter Sixteen

Flashbulbs popped as they left the hospital, leaving Alex
temporarily blind. “What the hell?” he hollered.

“Let’s go have some fun,” Brighton said as they dodged the
cameras for the car. It seemed she noticed the lift of his burdens as if it was
something to celebrate.

Brighton grabbed the keys, despite her disinterest in driving
on the left side of the road. “Tell me where to go.”

Alex stuttered, shifting from the quietude of loss and
forgiveness to the madness exploding before him as flashes burst against the
windshield. “Uh, erm, take a left there,” he said, pointing.

Two sedans followed them, even as Brighton wove in and
through traffic, driving erratically and fast. She smiled at him wickedly.

“What are you up to?” he asked.

“They want a show. We’ll give them a show.”

He directed her to a broad lot, and they walked to the club
on the other side of the road. “A couple bands I dig are playing here tonight,”
he said by way of explanation.

“Perfect,” she said, her voice ripping with mischief.

They each ordered a Stella Artois, and watched the remainder
of a set. A few moon-eyed fans approached Alex, but otherwise there was no sign
of the photogs. Alex heard someone shout his name.

“Graham, what the effin’ hell are you doing here?” he said as
the shaggy-haired bassist approached.

“Should ask you the same thing, except that we came here
every night for months running when we lived ‘round the corner. Hey Brighton,”
he said, interrupting himself. They hugged. “Everything all right, you nutter?”
Graham asked, turning back to Alex.

He shrugged. “Just saw my mum. She’s sick.”

Graham’s eyes widened.

“Said goodbye, I guess.”

“And what else has your knickers knotted?”

Brighton answered for him. “Some paparazzi have been
following us around for days.”

“Aye,” Graham said. “I was afraid of that.”

“What?” Alex and Brighton said at the same time.

“I see Jimmy and the Dills are coming on. I’ll tell you after
their set,” Graham answered as the first notes of a song blared through the
speakers.

As they tossed beer after beer back, Alex forgot about his
mother, the paparazzi, and the pending conversation with Graham. The bar turned
into a living room jam session as Graham took up a bass at a friend’s
insistence, followed by Alex on guitar.

After fooling around with a few songs, they needed another
guitar part. Alex pointed at Brighton, urging her forward. She shook her head,
but before he realized what was happening, Graham picked her up, slung her over
his shoulder, and brought her on the small stage, insisting she play with them.

They broke out into an impromptu dance-heavy song with Alex
and Brighton singing the chorus together. The crowd loved it. The room erupted
into chaos after Brighton played a solo.

Fists and feet were in the air as people danced, pogoed, and
crowd surfed. Screaming, whooping, and cheering provided the chorus to the next
song they played, with Alex adding the first things that came to mind, “A
patchwork summer of love and loss, magazine covers add a mythic kind of gloss,”
followed by a loud snarl and, “shut it and be your own boss.

When the drummer’s crash symbol sealed the end of the song,
Alex looked back to see Albert sitting behind the kit, his grin wild. Just
then, the microphone crackled.

“I see you’ve replaced me,” Finn said, setting foot onstage.
His glower revealed glassy eyes.

Alex frowned.

“No sir, you are mistaken. No one could replace you.
Everyone, the illustrious Finn,” Graham said, irritation clipping his words as
he lifted Finn’s arm overhead for applause.

Albert tapped the kick drum in a muted, but steady beat.

“What about Brighton? Your dear, darling Brighton standing
there, in my place and playing guitar?” Finn’s voice pricked with venom.

“This wasn’t planned, but this is people having a good time,
remember that?” Alex responded, his words flowing downstream on a river of
alcohol. “Isn’t that what we do? Bollocks playing in front of a sea of
twenty-five thousand nameless faces. This room, this is the heart and soul of
rock and roll. This is art. This is The Gracks, or have you forgotten?”

Just then Suzie appeared, her eyes rimmed with eyeliner and
her hair as strung out as ever. The piercing in her eyebrow hung onto threaded
desperation. “We know all about you two. The scandal is going to press
tomorrow. Everyone will know the truth about how you used Finn to rise to fame,
only to replace him with that bitch,” she said, pointing at Brighton.

Brighton’s face burned red. The guitar was out of her hands
and the foreboding thum, thum, thum of the drum filled the silence following
the accusation.

“For the record, you’re both mad,” Graham said, looking back
and forth between Finn and Suzie.

Alex stepped forward. A semblance of clarity appeared in his
mind if only to keep Brighton from punching Suzie in the face.

“Finn, I thought this was about you lamenting me taking up with
Bri and how that took my attention from you, but I see this is about her
musical talent. Despite your admission to a prestigious music school and
classical training, you’d credited your musical ascension to your abilities and
quietly derided me because I’d been born into the industry fame machine. Well,
you can keep it; shove it up your arse if you want to. Your judgments aren’t
welcome here.”

“Rubbish,” Finn said.

The crowd was silent, watching the spectacle unfold.

“I listened to you carry on about how you didn’t believe some
people have innate talent, the kind they don’t have to pour buckets of money
into, the kind that just is. I abided the insult because we were friends. But
you can’t stand that Brighton came along and blew us all out of the water.”

“I don’t think we can give her that much credit.” Finn
scoffed.

“Yeah, we saw where you want to go with the band. Vanish into
obscurity with your girlfriend, leaving us behind,” Suzie said.

Alex’s brow furrowed. “Which is it? Do you accuse me of
hoarding fame or trying to disappear? You can’t get your story straight because
the lies are so thickly entwined, you can’t see a way to untangle them. I
thought breaking it off with you, Suzie, was clear. You aren’t part of this
band. We aren’t a couple. We aren’t an anything.”

Suzie edged closer to Finn. “Tell him, Finny,” she said,
gripping Finn’s arm.

The drum continued, and Graham picked a rhythm with his bass.

“Tell me what?” Alex asked.

“Where should I start? That hotel in Amsterdam and the hot
tub? That was bubbly. Or that night you got sick, and I left the room because
it stank so bad? Finn kept me warm that night. You weren’t the only one having
fun on the side Lexie,” Suzie spat.

“Ugh. Enough. I don’t even care. I mean I do, I thought we
were friends Finn, best mates.”

“Not when he saw how lonely I was, what a terrible boyfriend
you were. Not when
she
started coming around. You turned your back on
both of us. Sorry, not sorry, Lex,” Suzie said.

In a flash of flame, Suzie was on the ground, Brighton, pummeling
her.

Alex spotted the red light of a camera filming. He struggled
to pull Brighton loose as Graham and Albert played an ominous backing track.

“I knew she was mental,” Suzie said, her lip bleeding. “Call
me anything you want, but I’m not crazy like that bitch.”

Brighton was ablaze. She picked up the guitar. “Crazy like
rock and roll,” she said, weaving into the song Graham and Albert played. “It’s
up to you if he stays or goes, but I’ll always be here. Cos’ I know, I know, I
know…” she sang, making up lyrics on the spot. “Come to duel, you’ll leave a
fool ‘cos I’m crazy, crazy like rock and roll,” Brighton wailed.

Brushing past Suzie, Finn’s cheeks darkened like purple
coals. “Fine. I quit. The Teasers, Lee’s band, asked me to play guitar for them.
I don’t need you. You can kiss my arse when we bust past you on the charts.”

In Finn and Suzie’s absence, the rest of the song grinded and
crashed, the crowd sucking it up in a frenzy.

Stumbling drunk, Alex, Brighton, Graham, Albert, and his
girlfriend, Ana, walked to their flat in a drizzling rain.

“That was bang on,” Alex said as the cool night air revived
him.

“That was a show,” Brighton added.

“What were you going to tell me earlier, Graham?” Alex asked,
recalling the very beginning of the thread that unraveled into that crazy
night.

Just as he was about to answer, a car clipped the corner of
the street they crossed. Alex pulled Brighton back, and Graham fell into them.
Alex didn’t see what happened to Albert and Ana. The car kept going and then
stopped a few paces away and backed up. Alex flashed to when the MG was cut off
on the road to the sea. He peeled Graham off the pavement, ushering them onto
the sidewalk.

Finn staggered from behind the wheel.

“Shouldn’t be driving, mate,” Alex said as Finn careened
toward them.

“There’s no Gracks without me,” he slurred.

“Seeing as you just about ran us down killing us, I’d say
you’re almost right. But you quit the band; did you change your mind in the
last two hours?”

“Fuck you, Lex,” Finn yelled.

“I gave you a chance to talk to me. I asked you out right. I
sent you a note.” He didn’t add,
through a window
.

Finn shoved Alex, but he recovered. In a swift motion, he
landed a fist in Finn’s face.

“You really want to fight again?” Alex shouted, dodging
Finn’s blow and returning with another to his gut. “There are better ways for
us to handle this.”

Finn mumbled and then Suzie got out of the car with a camera
in her hand. “Between this and what the photogs got, you’re finished Lex, all
washed up. Your career will be over.” She laughed hideously. “If we can’t be
with you, we’ll play against you.”

Alex didn’t see Brighton as he continued to grapple with
Finn. In his periphery, Albert and Ana tugged the camera out of Suzie’s hands
and took off down the street. She stumbled after them. Sirens wailed in the
distance.

“Finny, come on. The cops are coming,” she called over her
shoulder, but then gave up the chase.

“No, he stays here. We’re going to finish this now. I want
this over,” Alex growled.

“It’ll be over when we ruin you, but right now, Finny, we
have to go,” Suzie screamed.

“Suzie, I’ve made it clear I want nothing to do with you.
Leave Brighton and me alone. You and Finn can go and do whatever you want and
have your own happily ever after.”

As the rain started to spit down, her eye makeup streamed
down her face. At the words, happily ever after, Finn suddenly stopped, as if the
rain or reason caught up with him soaking the fabrications Suzie had fed him,
addling his mind. His bearing changed from a bull about to charge. He dissolved
into confusion or realization. It was like the lights came on in a club after
the concert was over, revealing it for what it was: a shoddy room, the floor
sticky with spilled drinks, and lies left discarded in the litter.

“No.” Finn looked at his bloody knuckles and then up at Alex.
“I’m sor—” He appeared to choke on the words. “Things got away from me.
Jealousy—I don’t know what to say...”

“Say this is over and that we can talk things through. No
more photographers following me, trying to expose some warped story. No more
Suzie. Get your guitar. Go somewhere lovely. Figure things out. We’ll still be
here for you, mate, maybe not working in a band, but friends,” Alex said, eager
not to have the police questioning him.

“We better go,” Graham said when flashing lights bounced off
the dark buildings.

Alex found Brighton and they left Finn fumbling for truth in
the rain.

Chapter Seventeen

Albert and Ana’s flat was a mass of mumbling and groaning the
next morning.

“Why do I always regret hangovers and yet, I wake up with one
at least once a week,” Graham asked, rubbing his face.

“You’re slow to learn,” Alex said, instantly regretting
lifting his head off the couch he and Brighton had crashed on.

Graham pulled himself out of a reclining chair. Albert and
his girlfriend were asleep in the next room.

“So, last night,” Graham said. “We down a guitar player?”

Alex shrugged. “Possibly. He did quit. And after that
episode, I think things have to cool off. Trust issues and all.”

“Mind filling in on guitar?” Graham asked Brighton who
squinted against the sunshine flooding the window.

“Let’s wait and see,” Brighton said. “Although I'll admit,
playing onstage with you guys was amazing. You’re all super talented.”

“Aw, shucks,” Graham said, feigning modesty.

“About playing, I have something set up later today, we’d better
get going soon,” Alex said, checking the time on his phone.

Graham nodded at him knowingly.

“I can’t move until I have something to drink and find out
exactly what I pilfered from the car last night,” Brighton said.

“You are rock and roll,” Graham commented with his eyebrows
raised.

“I meant I need to drink some water.”

“I meant that you took stuff from the car,” Graham said,
winking.

“As I imagine it involves images and recordings of me taken
without my consent, I’d hardly call it stealing,” Alex interjected.

“Too true,” Graham answered, fiddling with the camera. He
scrolled through the digital images. They crowded around him. “Classy,” he
said, nodding at a photograph of Alex groping Brighton’s chest in a dark
restaurant.

“I can’t help myself. They’re amazing,” Alex said, unable to
suppress a grin.

Brighton covered her chest, but he wasn’t sure if it was
false modesty or the reminder of her mother’s surgery.

He whispered, “Sorry, if that was tasteless.”

She pecked him on the cheek, her eyes telling him she was
still his jellybean.

“And I see there are some from the family reunion at Chaz’s
the other day. How they got past your father’s gates…”

“Long range lens,” Brighton said.

“That place is a fortress, especially after an incident with
a crazy fan landed her in the hospital. Dogs and a metal fence. Bitey. Stabby,”
Alex said by way of explanation.

Graham set the camera aside, pulling out a sheaf of photos
and a computer drive. He plugged it into Albert’s laptop and then shouted,
“Albs, what’s the password?”

A groggy voice replied, “Anastasia.”

“Of course, his girlfriend’s name. I never knew Ana was short
for Anastasia,” Alex said.

“You learn something new every day,” Graham teased.

The computer displayed files with loads of photographs of
Alex, some when he was still teenaged, up to all manner of debauchery. There
were some of him and Brighton on their US road trip, others of Alex piss drunk,
and then there was an article titled,
The Downfall of Notorious Rocker, Lex
Stihl.
The three of them read it in silence. Although most of it was
fabricated and poorly written, the final paragraphs outlined Alex and
Brighton’s unhealthy relationship resulting with the two of them overdosing in
a hotel room, a love child, and disgruntled fans disparaging them.

Brighton’s eyes widened. “I don’t have plans for any of that.
You?”

He pushed the computer away. “Nope. But one of the tabloids
at the grocery checkout would pay Suzie for this and print it. I certainly
don’t have the image of a well-behaved boy, but this is too far.”

“It’d put parents off from buying their fangirl daughters our
album. It’s the kind of press you ignore or hire someone to do damage control
in order to rescue your career. Oh, wait, look there’s more,” Graham said,
scrolling through a dozen more articles outlining Alex’s undoing, all penned
by,
Anonymous
.

“Suzie was collecting dirt on you all these years. She was
probably going to sell these. It’s a shame Finn was helping her.”

“I don’t get it, he didn’t need her. There are loads of girls
who’d do anything for him, hoards backstage after shows, at parties…” Graham
said.

“Jealousy, insanity, boredom? I have no idea,” Alex said,
trying to puzzle it out.

Brighton looked reflective. “If his apology was honest, you
could forgive him.”

Again, Alex thought of the rollercoaster ride of the night
before and the lightness he felt after forgiving his mother. “I have no
interest in carrying any more resentment around with me, but if what he said
was true about playing with another band, that might be best, at least for a
while until he gets his priorities in order.”

“But who’s going to fill in?” Brighton asked, seeming to
forget Graham’s request.

“You babe, always you.”

They dragged themselves back to Chaz’s. After showering and
curling into a nap, Alex woke to the gruff sound of a familiar voice, carried
across a continent and a very big saltwater pond.

Brighton’s eyes blinked open in recognition. “Sutton?” she
asked.

Alex nodded, running his finger down her nose, across her
lips, and then pulling them close. “There’s something I’d like to do with you
right now, but I asked him here as our guest, so I should do the polite
thing...”

“Rain check?” she asked, nevertheless tempting him to stay in
bed.

Alex kissed her again. “Rainbows.”

As they followed Chaz and Sutton’s booming voices to the
music room, Brighton said, “When I first met Sutton I realized he reminded me
of your dad, and then I realized they all remind me of my dad, really each
other.”

Alex laughed. “They’re cut from same cloth, I suppose.” He
took Brighton in his arms. “ I asked him to come out here to record us. A duet,
if you’re interested. I was hoping to put it on our album, just one song. The
Gracks, featuring Brighton Holmes. It was Graham’s idea. We’d all agreed it’d
be cool, even Finn, before. He’d offered to do anything when I was at my worst
missing you. But aside from being my girlfriend, you’re an amazing musician,
and I want the world to hear what we can create together.”

“I look forward to playing miles and miles of music with you,
Alex Stihl,” she answered.

They spent the next few days recording a love song, but
raucous and rocking nonetheless. Watching his dad and Sutton in the control
room, taking up their suggestions, and listening to them riff, cemented an idea
Alex had since he was a little boy: music was magic and mystery. But he
realized it was also creativity and wisdom and using the ability to listen
carefully and not let his ego get in the way. It was patience and diligence,
persistence and trust. It was an individual and a group effort. It was all of
those things lit up, put under pressure, and then transformed into melodies
beautiful, inspiring, and evocative. It was much like a relationship. He gazed
at Brighton, her chin rested atop the guitar as she listened to a track playing
back. She was music, alive and whole, and she was his.

With just two days left before Brighton had to return to New
York, to be with her mom after surgery, Alex took the top down on the
convertible, and he and Brighton hugged Sutton and his dad goodbye.

“Ye come back soon. We’ll need a few more songs before the
Alex-Brighton album is done.”

“This one might take a while, like a lifetime,” Alex said,
squeezing Brighton’s hand.

That evening, after they rolled into Windover, they pulled
all the sheets and coverings off the furniture, breathing life into the house.
Brighton threw open the windows.

“Can we really live in so many places?” she asked, as the sun
set over the Atlantic. “Seriously: LA, New York, London, Brighton, Glasgow? Can
two people inhabit five cities?”

“Depends on how much we let them inhabit us. I think there’s
plenty of room though.”

“After I graduate, I want to stay here awhile, right here.
Just stay put. Will you be with me?” she said, sweeping through the room and
into his arms.

“Always,” he answered, taking her jaw in his hand and kissing
her lightly.

They sat on a couch overlooking the water as the sliver of
the sun disappeared and the stars blinked on.

“And we can have our own collection of instruments,” she
said, kissing him back and straddling his legs.

“And cars.” He ran his hands along her thighs.

“And a cook named Milly.” She pulled his shirt over his head.

“And a recording studio.” He felt her soft skin.

“And tea, lots of tea.” Her breathing came in bursts.

“We’ll never have to go anywhere.” He pulled her closer.

“We can be here, together, always.” She moaned as she
ascended into ecstasy.

“Always.”