Page 37 of Rock Star

The world around me contracted until it was just me and him.

Two people who’d come together against all the odds.

“I do love you, Axel,” I said.

“Thank God.” He wrapped his arms around me once more and showered me with kisses. “It will all work out, you’ll see. We just need to keep this between us until the end of the tour.”

“And afterward?” I leaned away from him. “What happens then?”

He chewed his lip. “I’m not letting you go, Firebird. You’re under my skin now. I’d be lost without you.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls.”

I wanted to get it out into the open. His reputation had been far from saintly.

He creased his forehead so deeply it was like a crevice. “Never. I’ve never ever told any woman that I love her. You’ve got to believe me, Phoenix.”

I gazed deep into his dark brown eyes and saw the truth there. My heart beat so fast I almost stopped breathing.

Oh, God…17Six weeks LaterI snuck a quick look at Phoenix, sitting across the aisle from me next to Hayley. We’d left Scotland one hour ago, and in about ten minutes our plane would land at London City airport. She kept her eyes averted from me… deliberately. Since that memorable night in Paris, we’d done everything we could to appear like we were just friends, even inviting the guys along when we’d gone on our nights out in the various cities we’d visited.

Sometimes, they’d hung out with us… like the evening before our gig in Norway, at an outdoor concert venue a little like a small Glastonbury. We’d rented bikes and had cycled through a forest, singing the Beatles’ ‘Norwegian Wood’ at her suggestion, laughing so much we had tears in our eyes.

Most times, thank fuck, they said they’d rather party at a nightclub than join us for dinner at a secluded restaurant. That’s when Phoenix and I really got to know each other. We’d talk about music for hours, go back to our hotel to work on a song and then make sweet love.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. It had been an exhausting tour… I probably wouldn’t have been able to maintain my energy without cocaine if it hadn’t been for Firebird. She’d kept me focused, kept me from falling off the wagon. As ChiMera’s lead singer, I’d always given everything I had when performing and I’d always felt like an empty shell afterward.

A shell I used to fill with drugs.

My chest tightened. The tour had been so fast and frenetic, everything became a blur after a couple of weeks. There’d been some high points, like Stockholm’s Olympic Stadium, where the crowd had sung the chorus to ‘Ghost in the Heart’ like a football chant. The lowlight had occurred in Hanover, Germany—a big fuck-off modern venue—a mishap that made me smile now, although it wasn’t funny at the time.

I was just leaning into the opening lines right after our big instrumental ‘Longing for You’ overture when the kabuki—an enormous, black, droppable drape that hung on a truss and worked fine when there was no wind— blew inward and fell on top of me, the microphones and Rhys’s pedal board. The crew leapt on stage to help me fight my way out of what felt like a recently collapsed tent. All I could think about was, ‘Is Phoenix alright?’ and, thank God, she was. The show must go on, I remembered the adage, and it turned out to be an okay concert in the end.

I bit at my lip. The excuse that I needed to experience each city by night had held up. I hoped I wasn’t being complacent. Mike had been a faithful ally, staying in the second bedroom of my suites—as per usual—and making sure no one knew I was with my girlfriend.

Girlfriend.

A girl who was a friend.

But Firebird was so much more than that.

She was my soulmate.

I shot her another quick glance from under my lashes. So beautiful. So adorable. So strong.

And brave.

So. Fucking. Brave.

Her mum had been fighting cancer for months. Cora’s Leukemia was chronic rather than acute, but she still hadn’t gone into remission… which was worrying Phoenix. At least Cora hadn’t deteriorated—CM’s management team was keeping a close watch over her—but it was looking increasingly likely she’d need a stem cell transplant. I released a long slow breath. Firebird would have a lot on her plate when we returned to LA. My heart went out to her.

A crackle came over the intercom, and our pilot told the flight attendants to prepare for landing. Adrenaline rushed through me. I couldn’t wait to show Phoenix the city where I’d been born. This was the first time ChiMera had ended a tour in the UK. The guys and I had been fucking shitting ourselves before Cardiff and Glasgow, closer to home than we’d ever performed stadium gigs before. But now we were to play London—about to hit the absolute big time on our home turf—we were stoked but also fucking knackered… still racing like crazy, yet running on empty tanks, caffeine, whatever stamina we’d got left. It was the only way to keep going, especially with two sold-out concerts at Wembley tomorrow and the next day.

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