Page 27 of Follow the Rhythm
Chapter 8 - Ellis
The weekend had become my enemy. During the week, I could distract myself with work: rehearsals, interviews, shooting content for brand partnerships.
But on the weekends, distractions were limited. This was especially true if Bea was angry with me, which was about half the time these days. I’d been in Fairview for three years and I didn’t even have proper friends to keep me sane. Of my two real friends, one was dead and one could barely stand my presence. That left the rotating cast that Bea insisted were good connections.
Before, Sundays had been my favorite day of the week. We had all carved out time in our increasingly busy schedules to spend time together. We would hang out at Michael’s flat to watch the football in the morning, and then jam or write for hours. It’s when we did our best work, when there was no pressure.
Now, there was nothing but pressure.
I woke up too early on Saturday. Bea hadn’t come home, which didn’t surprise me. When I told her I didn’t want to go to that paid appearance on the yacht, she’d made it very clear she was going with or without me. She also made sure to tell me Iwasn’t any fun anymore, but that was nothing new. I hadn’t been fun since Michael died.
That Ellis Fox felt like a different person, as different as the Ellis I’d been the last time I saw Jess Moretti.
The scathing look Jess had given me flashed in my mind, and guilt unfurled in my stomach.
She’d grown into her beauty. She had always been breathtaking, if a little shy, but now she was confident and aloof. I wondered if that sensitive girl was still in there somewhere.
Of course I’d thought about Jess over the years, often when listening to an album I desperately wanted her opinion on. Or sometimes, when I couldn’t sleep, I’d look at her online store. It was the closest I could get to stalking her since she had no discernible social media presence. It’s how I’d finally recognized her, by those haunting illustrations.
I hadn’t planned on ghosting her. But moving back to London felt like an exciting new chapter, and at first, I was just too busy to talk to anyone from my boring old life. But as the shine of my adventure wore off, and I started to truly miss her, it was too late. The texts had gone unanswered for too long. So I told myself it was for the best; an opportunity to shed the past, awkward version of myself.
If I let myself consider it, I could admit that I had loved Jess back then, in the way that teenage boys can love anything. My world had revolved around two things: music and her. But love was dangerous. I’d seen my mum break her heart enough times to learn that life was much easier if you kept your heart out of it. So I kept Jess at arm’s length, close enough to reap the benefits of her friendship, but far enough so she didn’t get the wrong idea. Which, in hindsight, was probably a tad selfish.
I pushed myself out of bed. My guitar and the paper with the pathetic attempt at songwriting from the night before mocked me from the couch at the far end of the room.
Echelon wanted a solo Ellis Fox album, and Karen had made it very clear she was willing to hire any songwriter in the world to make it a reality. But I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I’d always written with Michael. And now I wasn’t writing at all.
I needed a distraction. A proper good one. Sex was usually the best option, but with Bea gone, my first line of defence was missing.
My mind served up an image of Charlie, my handsome new neighbor. He wasn’t my usual type, but I couldn’t deny I was drawn to him. There was something about that smile; he looked very eager to please.
I shut down that line of thought. He seemed like a genuinely nice person who deserved better than the likes of me.
“Shit,” I said out loud, scowling at the clock. It was only six in the bloody morning. The day stretched before me like an abyss; nothing to fill it but the yawning horror of my thoughts.
And the worst part was, I couldn’t even do drugs anymore. Before, I’d always had the option of taking the edge off with a bit of pharmaceutical help. But now, even the thought sent me spiraling into a panic that I’d miss that crucial moment, the point where “just enough” becomes “too much.”
I couldn’t have a drink at six in the morning, either. That kind of behavior took things from “fun alcoholic” to “rehab” very quickly.
The thought of trying to write something made me feel physically ill, so that was out, too.
I pulled on my trainers, a tracksuit top Bea kept trying to throw out, and a ratty old cap - my incognito attire - and made my way to the back entrance of the building. I doubted any paps would expect to see me out that early, but I didn’t want to risk it. They’d been tracking me with more accuracy lately, and it was unsettling to have zero privacy.
But Fairview City was loud and bustling, even at that ungodly hour, and I would lose myself in its rhythm until a better option presented itself.
Monday was a blessing. The day was filled with appointments and obligations. One of these was a meeting that would put me in the same room with Jess again, but beggars can’t be choosers. Maybe I could clear the air and shift some of the guilt plaguing me, too.
Bea had forgiven me, even though I’d never apologized.
“Why are we meeting with these people again?” Bea asked. We had entered the label office holding hands for the benefit of the paparazzi outside, but she dropped my hand as soon as we were through the doors.
“I told you, you don’t need to come,” I said, scanning the lobby for Jess.
“When are you going to start taking me seriously? I’m supposed to be an integral part of your team, but you just ignore me. Perhaps I should just go back to London and leave you to it.”
I sighed. “I want you here.”
Bea shook out her hair haughtily. “You want to keep me happy, don’t you?”
