Page 23 of The First Chord

“It’s almost four in the morning, Jimmy. There won’t be anything open.”

“Can’t you cook me something?” he yelled from the kitchen.

“No. I’m going to have a shower and then bed.”

“Fucking hell, Amber, you could just make me something first instead of being selfish.”

I chose not to answer because I wasn’t in the mood for an argument. Bone tired, I just needed to sleep. It wasn’t my fault he had the munchies from the weed he’d smoked on the way home from the airport.

“Amber.”

“I’m going to get a shower, Jimmy.”

“I’m starving, though.”

I really didn’t give a shit, so ignoring him I pulled my suitcase to the bedroom deciding to forgo the shower and just get into bed. Throwing my jacket on the old armchair in the corner, I went over to my chest of drawers and opened it to pull out a pair of pyjamas. Turning to look at the bed, I wasn’t even sure I had the energy to get undressed. Maybe I could just take my jeans off and hope that Jimmy passed out on the sofa.

No such luck. “I can’t believe you won’t make me any food,” he said, dumping his suitcase next to mine. “Typical of you, selfish as fuck.”

“Whatever.” Maybe I’d go and sleep on the sofa because lying next to him wasn’t something that I was looking forward to. “Just go to bed.”

As I moved for the door, he grabbed my hand to stop me leaving. “What the hell has got into you?” he asked, looking me up and down like he didn’t recognise me.

Maybe he didn’t, because I wasn’t the same person as when we left on tour. Then, I’d been a sad woman who thought she should be grateful for what she had in life. Now, I knew I deserved much more than the man who stood in front of me, appraising me like I was some faulty piece of equipment.

“Nothing has got into me. I’m tired and want to go to bed.”

“You’ve been pissy all day.”

He seriously couldn’t be questioning why I was pissy, as he put it. The woman at the party, staying out all night and coming back with that damn huge love bite on his neck. Not to mention the constantly being stoned and drunk.

“Jimmy,” I said, trying to pull my arm away, “things haven’t been right between us for a while, but this last month they’ve got a lot worse. I think we need some space from each other so when you go back on tour next week, I’m not coming with you.”

He frowned but grabbed my arm again, this time tighter. “You’re my wife and I want you on tour with me.”

“No, you don’t,” I said, shaking my head. “You need me on tour so that people will think you’re this amazing husband that I can’t stand to be away from. When actually you’re shit at the job.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” He pulled me closer, stabbing a finger in front of my face. “You’re the one who’s shit at your job. All you ever do is nag and embarrass me.”

“I embarrass you?” Shaking my head, I looked up at the ceiling, trying to find the right words, but I didn’t have the vocabulary to expand on the words prick, twat, idiot or dickhead. I mean, there was one word, but I never would use it. “Doesn’t you sucking the face off some woman in front of me and about another hundred people count as embarrassing me? Doesn’t that,” I pointed at his love bite, the one I didn’t give him, “embarrass me? You spend your entire day embarrassing me, Jimmy, and I’ve had enough of it.”

“So, what are you going to do? Stay here for the next month all by yourself and watch TV or read those fucking books of yours, waiting for me to come back? Because I tell you something, Amber, if you don’t come back on tour with me then you’re not getting access to my money.”

God, I was weary. Tired of him and his attitude and the way he thought he could walk all over me. Exhausted from his selfishness. Spent from living a life that made me miserable.

“I’m not coming back on tour, Jimmy. I’m not going to sit around waiting for you. I don’t want access to your money. None of that will be happening because I’m leaving you, Jimmy. Tomorrow, I’m going to look for somewhere to live so that by the time you’re back, me and my stuff will be gone from this flat.”

He blinked slowly, maintaining his grip on me as my words sank in. I saw it in his face as it morphed from cocky to enraged. When his fingertips dug into my arm, I wondered if I’d done the right thing. I hadn’t thought he’d take it well, but I hadn’t expected to see such anger. Humiliation probably, but not pure fury.

“Let me go, Jimmy,” I gritted out as the pain at my wrist increased.

“You’re not leaving me. You’re coming on fucking tour and you’re going to play the good wifey for as long as I want you to.”

“Who do you think you are? Some sort of gangster.” Despite the pain, I couldn’t help laughing. As if he could force me to stay with him. “It’s over, Jimmy. We’re over and if you really think about it, you know it’s true. You know it’s the right thing to do. We make each other miserable.”

“Who the fuck has been saying things to you? You never used to be like this. You used to be happy to be with me and to follow me on tour.”

“Yes, I did.” I nodded. “I thought that I should be grateful for the life I’d been given. I thought I should put up with it because it was what you and the boys had always dreamed of. I was happy to sit in the lobby of hotels while you ate dinner or attended parties or sucked the face off other women.” I shrugged. “I did all that because I loved you.” Sighing heavily, I looked right into his eyes. “But I don’t love you anymore.”

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