A week later, Matt rubbed the towel over his damp hair as he walked back into the hotel room he was sharing with Luke who lay on the bed, TV remote in his hand, flicking from channel to channel. The final concert of their short tour was over, and while he should be celebrating, he found himself thinking of Izabel.
He’d not been able to tuck thoughts of her back into the box in his chest. Images of her kept breaking lose. Of her eyes on him as they danced. Of her hips moving beneath his. Of the softly uttered words about him and her faith in his talents.
He’d thought a clean break was the best way to handle it while they both shoved deep emotions back into the corners of their hearts.
But it hadn’t fucking worked.
“Shower’s all yours, mate,” Matt said, fastening the button of his clean jeans.
“Been thinking about the bones of the song we worked on when you got back from the wedding. I think the chorus isn’t working. I feel like the verses are catchier. It’s almost like if you could rewrite it. Start with the score of the chorus and make it the verse, then flip the verse as the chorus. I know the words don’t exactly fit, but given the verse is eight lines and the chorus four, you just repeat it twice. If you know what I mean?”
Matt threw his towel onto the desk and grabbed the guitar leaned up against the hotel wall. “You mean like this.”
He paused for a minute and began to play as Luke suggested. “Yeah, I see what you’re saying. The chorus was more sedate.” He fiddled with the chords for a moment, adjusted the transition on the third play through. “More like this, right?”
Luke sat up and swung his legs back over the bed, leaned closer to Matt’s guitar. “Yeah…but end the first four bars down, the second four up.”
Luke bobbed his head as Matt muddled his way through the lyrics that no longer worked perfectly, but a couple of hours and he could fix them.
“The chorus lyrics fit the verse,” Luke said. “The verses might need slight adjustment.”
Matt grinned. “Yeah. Go shower. I’ll fiddle with the song some more while you’re in there. Then we can work on it some more.”
“Would love to, but I’m grabbing a shower and heading out. Want to come out with me? I can see if she can bring a friend?”
Matt shook his head. The only women he wanted to spend the night with was tucked up in bed in Manchester. “Nah. I’m good. I’ll stay in and work on this.”
The door to the bathroom slammed shut.
Shit.
He’d intended to talk to Luke about Izabel. It had been a week since they’d had their day. A week when the only hands on his dick had been his own and the ghost of Iz’s.
The door to the bathroom opened, and Luke walked out, naked.
“Fuck, man. I don’t need to see that shit.”
“Yeah, well. Just letting everything hang free after getting all hot and bothered on stage.”
Matt shook his head. “I’m worried about you.”
“My dick thanks you for your concern.”
“No, seriously. This. Going out every night, getting hammered, picking up some chick. Coke and alcohol increasing. You know it’s not good for you, right.”
Luke opened his bag and started to pull clothes on. “You sound like an old fucking woman.”
“Yeah, well, I’m just looking out for you. It’s all fun and games until your kidney packs in, or you get two lines on the pregnancy test, or God forbid, you’re too high to actually ask clearly for consent.”
Luke paused for a moment before pulling a clean T-shirt over his head. “I’m a long way from that.”
Matt shook his head; he didn’t want Luke all riled up before he broached the topic of Izabel. “Sorry, mate. You’re right.” But even as he said it, he knew tonight wasn’t the night. He needed Luke sober and calm, not high and agitated.
Luke paused and put his hands on his hips. “Can I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”
“Did anything happen at the wedding?”
Did anything happen at the wedding?
Matt focused on not letting his face bely the shock he felt. “Like what?”
Please don’t ask if I fucked your sister.
“It’s Iz. She’s been quiet all week, not texting me and shit. Just wonder if Harry got to her. I asked her about it, and she wouldn’t answer. Told me it was none of my business.”
Matt bit down on the inside of his cheek as battling emotions raged through him. He didn’t want her to be hurt and upset. But, fuck, if it didn’t make him feel less alone to know it hurt her to be away from him as much as he hurt to be away from her.
“Harry was a dick. Said some shit.”
“What kind of shit?”
“Stuff you’d probably prefer not to hear.”
“Let me decide.”
’Tis a tangled web we weave, when we practice to deceive.
For a moment, he considered just laying it all out on the line anyway. Telling Luke everything so he could drive home tomorrow, go see her, and make everything right in both their lives.
“Me pretending to be her date pissed him off. So, he said some shit about her not giving blow jobs. Petty shit to embarrass us. I think he meant to have a go at me, but it got to Iz. She was pretty low afterward.”
“He’s a fucking shit.”
“Yeah. Didn’t help that the bird, Sophia, was rubbing her tits in his face every time we turned around. To be honest, I think they were both trying too hard. Fucker’s eyes were always on Izabel every time I looked up.”
Luke sat down on the edge of his bed and rubbed his face in his hands. “You know, things went so wrong after Dad died. I mean, I guess I always knew shit could happen to a firefighter. But mum checked out on both of us. Iz only just turned fifteen, me, eighteen. Then Dad’s mate moved in on mum and the pair of them buggered off to Brighton as soon as Iz turned …seventeen. It was a lot.”
“I remember. I was there when it all went down. But you guys pulled through together, right.”
He set his hands on top of his head for a moment, then exhaled loudly. “I’m all Izabel has got, all she’s had for nearly a decade, and I’ve done an awful job of looking out for her because it was a job I never wanted. I messed up.”
Matt sat up and looked over at his best mate who had always done the best he could. “That’s not true.”
Luke turned to face him. “Nah. It’s true. You’re right. What you said earlier. It’s all a bit out of control. I’m on tilt and selfishly, I like it. I like the rush. I like the feeling of obligations disappearing for a little while. But I should have seen stuff with Izabel…when she slept with Jase. I should have seen she was in a vulnerable place at the time, but I missed it. And I was too pissed off my head to see her leave with him. Another time I didn’t look out for her. And one of my own fucking band mates.” Luke dropped his elbows to his knees and looked down at the carpet.
Matt’s stomach sank. Luke’s words were laced with loathing and disgust…at himself, at Jase. “You can’t hold yourself responsible.”
“I can. I do. I missed it. And when she met Harry, I didn’t look closely enough. I just saw a decent looking guy with enough cash to look out for her who wasn’t Jase. And if I’m honest, I breathed a sigh of relief I didn’t need to look out for her anymore. When she moved in with Harry, I thought, this is it. Now I can just worry about myself. Can do whatever the fuck I like. What kind of selfish prick of a brother thinks that?”
“You’ve been looking out for Izabel since you were eighteen. Eleven years of parenthood you never signed up for. Your mum made Iz your responsibility and fucked off. You’ve done more than any brother would have done. And we both know she’s old enough to look after herself, but you let her live with you, you’ve held onto as many family traditions as you can, you’ve helped her out with cash for university, you’ve—”
“Let her be taken advantage of by your brother, by Harry. And here I am in London wondering why the fuck I did it again. Why did I let her fuck off to the Lake District with you? You’re my best mate, you’re also technically my employer.”
Matt raised his eyebrows. “I don’t employ you. I just manage the band because one of us has to. We’re a group.”
“Of musicians, yeah. But you’re the talent.”
Matt shook his head. “Not true. I see you as a partner in song-writing.”
“Nah. Not really. You come up with the idea, the framework. I just help fill in the gaps when you can’t, which is rare. Perhaps help refine the tune.”
“It’s more than that. I couldn’t write the songs without you. This song,” he said, lifting the neck of his guitar. “I’d be battling with it all night if you if you hadn’t just said what you said. You’re as important to this band as I am.”
Luke stood, grabbed his wallet and a hotel key card. “I’m not. But this, Matt. You, me, the band. It’s the only thing I’ve got. I know it’s not perfect. Far from it. I worry all the fucking time about you and Jase blowing it up for the rest of us. Thought I was going to puke when he walked off the stage in Brighton. It bugs the shit out of me how much we still need him. But for some reason the rest of life seems to be coming in hot right now. No idea what I want to do or where I want to go. I feel like I’m having a midlife crisis at twenty-nine. I don’t know what I’d do if you decided you didn’t want to do this anymore.”
Matt’s stomach sank. How could he challenge Luke now, knowing how he felt, knowing he was at such a low ebb? “I’m a long way from quitting, mate. You sure you don’t want to stay in? We could talk through shit, grab some take-out, watch some TV.”
“Thanks, but I need to get out of my head, not dive deeper into it. See you later.” As he reached the door and opened it, he paused. “And thanks,” he called out over his shoulder.
Yeah.
Thanks for putting his own life on hold to keep everyone else together.
As the door shut, his phone buzzed. With a groan, Matt reached for it. A message from Izabel. His heart shouldn’t have raced as much as it did when he opened it.
I can still feel your hands on my skin, and I wonder if you can still feel mine on yours.
He ran his thumb gently over his fingertips, cursing the fact he could.
Izabel stood at the gate to the apartment building and looked at the growing pile of boxes on the curb.
“Please,” she urged the gruff delivery man putting yet another box on the pavement. “Look, I don’t know what caused the mix up, but these should have been delivered to the shelter, not to my home address. I don’t even have a car. I’m happy to pay for your time to take them on to the shelter.”
Or ask Luke. Again. God, she was always asking her brother for something it seemed.
“I’d love to help you out, Miss, but I’m already behind schedule, and Ancoats would take a thirty-minute round trip out of my way.”
Izabel looked on in desperation as he climbed into the van and drove off. Ten large boxes of various dried pastas and noodles. She’d thought it a good idea to contact manufacturers directly to ask for donations. Every night after dinner, she sent off ten emails to manufacturers of anything that might help the shelter. Dried goods, cleaning supplies, bedding, and towels. Some had come through, but this was the first that had ended up at her house.
Urgh.
Right, well, given she lived in Manchester, she couldn’t leave them on the pavement until Luke got home because they’d be nicked from the curb before she’d made it back into her apartment. She’d do it in stages. Get all ten boxes in through the gate. Get all ten boxes in through the door. Step by step.
The preparation for the Halloween yoga party and the September newsletter she’d been in the middle of when the delivery driver buzzed would just have to wait.
She’d just got the first three boxes in through the gate when it clanged open behind her. Matt stood like a brooding hero, the sun low on the horizon lighting him from behind, creating a halo around him. White paint spattered his dark hair. If it wasn’t enough that she hadn’t seen him in a week, she had to see him now, wearing a white sundress with splats of the Bolognese sauce she’d been in the middle of eating when the delivery had arrived.
And he was staring. Not smiling, not saying hello, just looking at her with an intensity that had the ability to burn her underwear right off.
But he hadn’t responded to her message, just left her on read. He’d seen it. He’d known she was thinking about him. And he hadn’t felt her worthy of a reply. Mortification crept through her. What had she been thinking? In the darkness of her room, as she touched herself intimately as she thought about him, it had felt safe, seductive even, to send him that message. In the cold light of day, with no response from him, it felt needy and perhaps a little desperate.
Izabel looked down at the third box in her arms and placed it on top of the other two as she took a deep breath.
You can do this, Iz. You can co-exist in a world with Matt in it, goddamnit.
“Excuse me,” she said, hoping to slide by and grab the next box.
“Iz.” Matt stepped to one side. For a moment, she thought he’d reached for her. At least, she thought she saw his hand raise in her direction before he snatched it back. Perhaps it was just wishful thinking he’d confess to being a dick and kiss her.
She grabbed the fourth box and carried it through the gate, placing it with the others.
Damn, he was till there when she returned for the fifth. The silence was deafening and awkward as hell, yet the way his eyes followed her. But he didn’t want her, at least, he didn’t want her enough.
“You need a hand?” he asked.
“No, I’ve got it.”
She dealt with the sixth box and reached for the seventh, but Matt stepped in front of her. “Let me help you.” This time he did reach for her, a whisper of a touch to the ends of her hair. A wave of longing flooded through her, so strong it almost brought tears to her eyes.
“They delivered the donation to my home address and not the shelter.” Her voice cracked, the words sounding raw. “I need to get these into the apartment, and then get Luke to take them.”
“You want me to drive them over?”
Izabel shook her head. “They’d never all fit in your car. They’ll fit better in Luke’s van plus he can drop me off in the morning.”
Matt nodded. “Fair enough. I’ll grab them from the curb to the elevator, if you want to take them up in the lift.”
Between the two of them, they made quick work. They carried the last two boxes into the elevator together. The doors closed, leaving them trapped inside, their hands thankfully full.
When they got to Luke’s apartment, Izabel placed her box on top of the one Matt was carrying to unlock the door. “You can just place them over there with the others,” she said, pointing to the spot behind the small round dining table.
Matt did as instructed, then walked back toward her. She held the door open and looked down at the floor. “Thanks for your help.”
He stepped through the door, then stepped back inside and slammed it shut.
“Tell me no, Iz,” he growled as he stalked toward her.
Emotions impossible to describe coursed through her when she took in the look of pure hunger in his eyes. His body crowded hers until he scooped her up into his arms and pressed her back against the wall.
God. Yes.
Matt ran his nose along her jaw, down her neck. “I said tell me no.”
She placed her hands on either side of his face until he looked straight at her. “I can’t,” she whispered.
“Fuck,” he muttered, before slamming his lips against hers.
A lightning strike would feel tame in comparison to the surge of energy currently flooding her body. As his tongue fought with hers, as their gasps filled the hallway, Izabel lost any sense of time or place. All that mattered was the way Matt squeezed her arse, holding her exactly where he wanted her, primed and open to him, as he ground his dick up against her.
Izabel groaned at the sensation as every part of her flickered to life. God, he was so hard, and she wanted more. She wanted him to strip her naked, right here, and take her the way she imagined it. Hard and fast.
She tightened her grip around his neck, threading her fingers into his hair, tugging it hard. Matt used his body to press her firmly against the wall, snaking one hand between them to squeeze her breast before rubbing his thumb across her nipple. He repeated the action, knowing it made her core clench.
What she wouldn’t give for him to be filling her right now. With his fingers. With his tongue, with his dick. Anything to ease the ache she felt inside.
Matt kissed a trail of wet kisses down her jaw, to her neck, ruthlessly tasting her as his thrusts against her increased. The seam of his denim flicked over her clit, the thin fabric of her dress no protection to the onslaught. He slid his hands beneath the hem, squeezing along her thighs.
When he reached the edges of her thong and slid a finger deep inside her, they both groaned.
“Christ, I missed this.”
His words were her undoing. With the stroke of his finger matching the grinding of his dick, Izabel could feel the incredible signs of release. “Matt, don’t stop,” she pleaded, before pulling his lips back to hers.
“Let me see it, Iz. Let me feel you come around my finger. I want it.”
Izabel opened her eyes, stunned to see the lust in Matt’s.
“Ah, ah,” she gasped, arching her back against the wall, unable to control the way she jerked in his arms, as she exploded.
Bright white lights spun in her peripheral vision as the dam of pent-up sexual energy burst through.
“Fuck, I want you, Izabel.” Matt reached for his belt as Luke’s voice carried up the hallway.
“Yeah, I’m nearly home, mate. Give me two minutes.”
Matt dropped Izabel to the floor, straightening her skirt before rearranging his dick in his jeans. “Go stack the boxes,” he whispered. “And change my name in your phone.”
“Why?”
The sounds of keys in the locks had them both looking toward the door. “Just do it, Iz.”
Matt gave her a second to get to the boxes, then unlocked the door. “Typical of you to show up after all the work is done.”
Izabel quickly fixed her hair. Walking after such a mind-blowing orgasm was tricky. Her legs still barely held her own weight. But she did as Matt asked and pretended to rearrange the stack of boxes by the wall.
“Why are you here? What do you mean work?” Luke stepped into the living area. His brow was furrowed as he looked between Matt and Izabel.
“One of the donors screwed up and delivered all these boxes here instead of to the shelter and refused to redirect them. Matt came home at the perfect time…or maybe the wrong time for him seeing I roped him into carrying them all upstairs for me because I didn’t want to leave them on the pavement. They’d have been nicked in five minutes.”
Luke’ shoulders relaxed a little and Izabel took a deep breath. “Is everything in now?”
Matt nodded. “Yup. Just stacked the last of them. Iz said you’d help her get them to the shelter. Gimme a shout if you need a hand carrying them down to the van in the morning.”
“Yeah. Thanks. Will do.”
“Thanks, Matt,” Izabel offered. She wanted to add so much more.
Thanks for showing me you’re only human. Thanks for showing me you still feel as much for me as I do for you. Thanks for giving me an explosive orgasm pressed up against the wall. Thank you for wanting to fuck me.
“No worries,” Matt said casually. “Later, guys.”
He glanced to Luke who was studying the pile of boxes, then winked at her.
And never had a wink been such a hopeful sign.
Matt stepped into his apartment, walked to the fridge, and popped the top off a beer before downing half of it in one long draw.
He’d just dry-humped Izabel to orgasm in her brother’s hallway and was about to drop his jeans and fuck her without a second thought. His dick ached like a bitch, so on edge there was a damp spot on his jeans, and he couldn’t decide if it was from him or from Iz. Thankfully, Luke had never looked down at his dick or they’d all be screwed.
And he’d just looked his friend in the eye and lied. Well, not lied. The fact Izabel had needed help was the truth. The omission, that he was sunk for Iz, felt like a huge lie. Betrayal tasted as bitter on his tongue as Iz had tasted sweet.
But he couldn’t and wouldn’t try to pretend he didn’t know what it all meant. He wanted Izabel just as badly as he had always done, and there was no point pretending he didn’t. The only question was what they could do about it.
He sat down on the sofa and unzipped his jeans. He gripped his dick and squeezed. Fuck, he was hard as iron. He placed his beer down on the table and raised the finger that had been deep inside of Izabel to his mouth. It still tasted like her. Sucking on his finger, he began to stroke his dick, a firm up and down, tip to balls. There was no need to rush to orgasm, he could just enjoy the sensation of it while images of Izabel’s eyes as she came flashed through his mind.
The way she fit in his arms, the way she welcomed him deep inside her, the way she arched her back, thrusting those perfect tits of hers in his face. If she’d been naked, he would have sucked on them. Pulled one delicious nipple into his mouth and sucked hard until she squirmed against him.
His phone rang, and he glanced down at it, planning to ignore it, until he saw the name.
Izabel.
He groaned but released his dick to answer it.
“Iz,” he said, realising too late he sounded breathless. “Are you alone?”
“Yes. Luke just popped out to get some food. He’ll be gone about ten minutes.”
Not enough time for them to finish what they started in person.
“I changed your name. Why did you ask me to do that?”
“So when I message you, if your phone is lying around and Luke sees it, he won’t see my name.”
“You’re going to message me?” she asked coyly.
“Yeah, Iz. I’m going to message you.”
There was a pause, just the sound of Izabel’s breathing. He wanted to reach for his cock, stroke it to the sound of her voice, but realised that was pretty fucking skeevy of him.
“What did you need, sweetheart?”
“I just wanted to check everything was… well, what happened was…Jeez, I don’t know Matt. I guess I needed to know it…meant something. That it wasn’t a momentary slip. That you weren’t going to go back to ignoring me.”
Matt smiled. “I think we just proved I couldn’t ignore you if I tried. I see you for the first time in over a week and practically fucked you up against your brother’s wall. I think that speaks volumes.”
“For the record, I really enjoyed you practically fucking me up against my brother’s wall.”
“Stop,” Matt groaned. “Do you realise how painfully hard my dick is right now?”
“I wish I could come take care of that for you.”
“Not helping, Iz.”
“I could help. Over the phone. You know, if you wanted me to…”
Fuck it, Matt grabbed his dick again and began to stroke. “I was just taking care of it when you phoned. Talk to me, Iz. Help me get off. Tell me what you’d do to my cock if you were here.”
“Where are you?”
“Living room. Sofa.”
“Hmm. Well, I’d walk over to you and strip down to my underwear. What colour do you like best?”
“Black.” The image of Izabel in black lace, a thong so he could check out her arse, and one of those bras that only had a half a cup so he could just see her nipples, sprung to mind.
“Well, I’d drop to my knees in front of you and crawl until I was right between your thighs. Is my hair up, or down?”
“Down. It’s always down when I think of you.” He increased the speed of strokes, dancing the beautiful line between wanting to prolong the pleasure and needing the release. He opened his knees a little wider to give the imaginary Izabel more room to work.
“I’ll remember that. I’d slide my hands along your thighs. Wait did you just unzip your jeans, or push them down?”
“Unzipped,” he groaned.
“Push them down a little further. I’m going to want to reach all of you.”
Matt did as she asked, sliding his jeans and boxer briefs over his hips. It felt elicit, like she was really with him. “Done.”
“So, Matt. I’m going to lick my lips and get them really wet so there is no friction when I slide my mouth over your dick. Am I wearing lipstick?”
“No. Just those sweet plump lips of yours.” The thought of them opening to cover his dick while her eyes stayed pinned on his caused pre-cum to leak from his tip. He’d come soon but didn’t want to until she sucked him deep.
“Okay. I’m lowering my mouth and slow enveloping your head. It’s so swollen as I press my lips tightly around it. Just the tip at first, getting it nice and wet. I’m swirling my tongue over your slit, around the rim. And you taste so good, Matt.”
Matt groaned at the visual. He ran his finger where she’d told him his tongue would be.
“You’re getting wetter now as I leave saliva behind. I grip your dick with one hand and begin to stroke up and down while sucking as much of you into my mouth as I can.”
“Ah, fuck, Iz. I can see it. I can feel it. Keep talking.”
“You run your fingers through my hair, not to hold me in place, but because you just need to. I lift up on my knees so I can take more of you. Deeper. Faster now. I reach for your balls and tug on them gently. Do it, Matt. Pretend it’s me.”
Matt perched the phone between his ear and shoulder and did as she asked. “Your hands are softer than mine.”
“Matt, I can feel you getting more turned on, can feel you getting harder. You start to move and groan beneath me. I want to hear you.”
“Ah, Iz. I’m so fucking close to the edge.”
“I’m sucking fast now. My head bobs as my fist squeezes your cock. It feels like I’m riding you. Can you feel it?”
“Yeah, sweetheart. Iz. I’m going to come.”
“Where do you want it to go. In my mouth or over my breasts?”
“Mouth,” he grunted, just before his world tilted and he came with a groan. “Izabel.”
The sound of his heavy breathing was the only sound between them.
“How was it?” Izabel asked finally.
“I just came all over my T-shirt and feel like I ran a marathon. You give great phone blow jobs, sweetheart.”
Izabel laughed, the sound lightening the mood, but they still needed ground rules.
“You know we can’t go public with this. Not yet.” He didn’t want to share with her the conversation he’d had with Luke at the hotel in Brighton. It wasn’t fair to Luke to share his business with Izabel.
“I know. This is more than I thought I would get.”
Matt shook his head. “You should be with a guy who will give you everything. Not just snatched moments every now and then.”
“Stolen moments with you are better than any public moment I’ve ever had with any other guy, Matt.”
His chest expanded at her words. “We’ll figure it out, I promise. Just for now, let’s keep this quiet until we can figure out how to tell Luke without blowing up the band. Okay?”
“I will. Thank you, for today, for this.”
“I’m sorry I was a jerk. I thought I could stay away. I saw your text, but not responding was a test to see if I could keep you at a distance.”
“Apology accepted.”
“I missed you, Iz,” he admitted.
“I missed you too. Does this mean you’ll respond if I message you?”
He nodded, even though she wasn’t there to see him. “Yeah. I will.” A loud hammering at his door interrupted his thoughts. “Gotta go, sweetheart. Someone’s at the door.”
He heard her farewell, hung up, and stripped off his semen covered T-shirt. On the way to the door, he zipped up his jeans and peered through the peep hole.
Fucking hell.
Jase stood outside the door. Jesus Christ, were they destined to be constantly interrupted by brothers?
“Jase,” Matt said as he opened the door.
Jase brushed by him, pulled open his fridge, and helped himself to a beer. “Who elected you head of this fucking band?”
“Hello, Jase. How are you? I’m good thanks for asking.” Matt grabbed the hoodie flung over the back of the chair and slipped it on over his head before pulling the sleeves up. “I’m not the head of this band.”
“From where I’m sitting, it sure looks like you do. Who manages the bank account?” Jase slammed his beer bottle down on the counter.
“Me. With Luke as a second signatory in case I’m unavailable to do something.” He didn’t feel like the fucking Spanish Inquisition, but sometimes it was simply easier to answer Jase’s questions and let him work himself out of whatever funk he was in.
“Who manages us?”
“What do you mean by manage?”
“Makes bookings, decide where we play and stuff.”
“If you mean, who takes booking requests, checks the group calendar to make sure we’re all free, and confirms we can do it, I do. But you know I always check-in with you guys before I accept.”
Jase nodded knowingly, a smug look on his face. “Who writes all the songs?”
“All the songs written so far were written by me or by me and Luke. But anyone can. Is this what it’s all about? You got some fucking bee in your bonnet that I have too much fucking control. Go ahead, tell me what email to have the contact page on our website redirect to. You can do all the bookings. Be a weight off my fucking mind. You think you’ve got a song in you, go ahead, get it down on paper. See if Alex can help you write a tune to go with it. Write the whole fucking album. I look forward to tearing every song apart, just like you do mine, and then I’ll agree to play them anyway, just like you do.”
“Fuck you, Matt. You think you’re bigger than the band.”
“Says the high and mighty Jase Palmer. Lead singer. Fucking waster.”
“Yeah, but it’s my voice that’s unique, not the music. That’s what sells the fucking band.”
Matt scoffed. “You know who else had a unique voice? Norman Greenbaum. Didn’t get further than Spirit in The Sky. Marc Almond had a distinctive voice but is pretty much only remembered for Tainted Love. Brendan Brown and that classic Teenage Dirtbag. His voice was pretty unique. You know what they are perceived as now? One-hit-fucking-wonders. A unique voice is worth shit without great music.”
“You were a decent brother before the band,” Jase said quietly.
“Yeah. Well, if you weren’t such a hot-headed arsehole, you might realise I’m not the only one whose changed. You’re the one whose ego has become more inflated than the fucking Hindenburg and we all know what happened to that.”
Jase looked at him blankly.
“Fucking Zeppelin airship caught fire as it docked and killed thirty-five people.”
Jase chugged some of his beer. “And what the fuck has that got to do with anything?”
Matt rubbed his hand over his face. “It’s an analogy, Jase. You’re full of hot air, one crash-landing away from burning out. Listen. You don’t like the way I run things, you takeover. You don’t like the songs, write some alternatives. You don’t want to do either of those, do us all a favour and quit. And if you liked me better as a brother before the band, save band shit for meetings and rehearsals. Don’t charge over here on a Tuesday, drink my beer, and cause a fucking fight.”
Jase chugged some more of his beer. “This has gone way off topic. I came to ask about money. We did the London gigs, and they were profitable, yeah? I know you all voted for album versus play-off but, I really need cash.”
“Can you not just work harder for it?”
“Steve is flexible. Will let me have time off for gigs. I’m worried if I go somewhere else, they might say they will but then won’t. Let’s face it, most of the gig work and bar work is weekends. Not sure why I’m explaining myself to you. I just need some extra cash this week.”
“How about you just stay in?
Jase finished the beer and rinsed it out before putting it in the recycling. It seemed like such an absurdly normal thing to do in the middle of a fight. The action reminded him Jase hadn’t always been a jerk.
“Fuck you. Should have known you’d assume it’s for me. There’s a sale on at the travel agents for January holidays, and you know how Nan always gets sick in January because of the cold and damp. Thought about getting her a trip to Spain for a week for her birthday in five days. But, yeah, make it about me.”
Without another word, Jase walked out of Matt’s apartment, and as the door slammed shut, Matt slumped back down onto is sofa. On the table was his T-shirt, bundled up to go in the wash.
Coming to the sound of Iz describing how she’d suck him off seemed like forever ago.
And he couldn’t figure out why.