I release another long breath, feeling better and worse at the same time for laying all that shit out there. “This life isn’t for everyone. Whitney sort of thrived on it. She loves the press attention, even when the stories they print about us are complete bullshit, she enjoys reading them. I don’t wanna be with someone like that again, but I need someone who can handle it when it does happen. I don’t know that there’s anyone out there that’d be prepared to take on me, Layla, the band, my music, and everything all of that entails.”
After a few moments of watching me, Mum shakes her head. “It’ll happen. When you least expect it, you’ll meet someone, and you’ll just know. And she’ll put up with all of those things because she loves you.”
“Didn’t happen for you. You never foundthe oneand moved on after Dad left.”
She tilts her head to the side as if considering her words before voicing them. With a wistful smile on her face, she shrugs, and something suddenly occurs to me. “You did? What the fuck? Who? When?” I ask in a rush.
Mum giggles. Sounding like a teenage girl, she giggles. “I was only twenty-five when your father left, do you really think there’s been no one else since then?”
“No. Yes. Who? Why didn’t you tell me?”
She shrugs, and it’s her time to let out a long breath. “Because there was no one special enough to introduce you to. I wasn’t going to bring an endless stream of men in and out of your life—”
“Endless stream? What the fuck, Mum, how many were there?”
She laughs but at least has the good grace to look a little embarrassed. “There weren’t many, least not by your standards.”
“Far out—” I pause and cover the ear Layla doesn’t have pressed to my chest even though she’s still sleeping soundly. “Don’t listen to this, Layla.” I look down at my daughter. “Grandma’s a ho, and you won’t be growing up to be anything like her.”
Mum’s continued chuckles warm my insides. As shocked as I am to be hearing her revelations, I’m glad she’s not spent all these years alone, but, at the same time, I’m sad that she never again found ‘the one.’
“Cal and I used to hope that you’d end up with Pete. It made sense to us. I had a single mum; he had a single dad. We would deliberately not be ready when we got picked up from each other's houses so you’d have to come in and . . .”
I take in the sheepish look my mother is now wearing, the way her eyes are roaming around the room, making contact with anything except me, and my jaw falls open. “Oh my fucking God, you did. You banged Pete. What the actual fuck, Mum? How did I not know about this? W-wait, does Cal know? Please tell me he’s as much in the dark as I am about this.”
Mum wipes tears from under her eyes from laughing so hard.
“Glad you’re finding this so bloody amusing, woman.”
“Oh my days, I needed that laugh.” She clears her throat and attempts to keep a straight face as she looks at me. “No, as far as I’m aware, Cal doesn’t know anything. It was a long time ago, and because of the relationship between you boys, we kept things quiet and thought we’d just see how things went—”
“Not so well apparently.”
Mum smiles and shakes her head, and I honestly don’t want to know what memories she’s recalling to have that dreamy look on her face.
“Pete was a good man. We had a lot of fun together, but he just wasn’t . . .” She shrugs and searches the room again before her eyes slice back to mine. Her shoulders pull back and straighten in resolve. “We weren’t compatible in the end. He just wasn’t man enough for me if you want the honest truth. Like I said, he was a good man, caring, considerate, I just needed . . . more? You know that old saying about wanting a whore in the bedroom, but a lady in the living room? Well, I wanted the male version of that, and Pete, he was just too much of a gentleman. I need a man who’ll open doors for me but grab my arse as I go through it—”
“Yeah, yeah, you can stop now. I get the picture, Mum, really, I hear ya very loud and clear.”
She giggles again before rolling her eyes at me. “I might be your mother, Maxwell Hendrix Young, but I’m still a red-blooded woman with needs.”
I hold my hand up to stop her from talking when my mobile rings beside her on the coffee table. She picks it up and passes it to me.
I swipe to answer, but before I have the chance to say a word, Cal is speaking. “Max, we’re on our way to Los Angeles. Billie’s been assaulted and is in the hospital.”
I’m silent for a few long moments as I process what he’s just said. My stomach churns with a sensation I should be getting familiar with since it’s happened so often these past days, yet, it still manages to make my mouth fill with bile as I fight the urge to throw up.
“What?” Is all I get out as I gesture to Mum to take Layla from me.
I’ve not seen Billie in years, and the last time I did, she was little more than a teenager, maybe thirteen or fourteen, with long red hair and braces on her teeth. Although Mel and Cal had raised her since she was seven, she spent most of her school holidays over in America, staying with her mum’s sister and family, so I didn’t see her around as much as I did Makenzie, their daughter.
“She was attacked and assaulted by the bloke she’s been working for—”
“What the fuck, Cal, where are you? Where’s she? What can I do?”
“She’s okay, but she’s in the hospital. Lennon organised one of the label’s jets for us, and we’re about to take off from Heathrow. Mel, Kenzie, and Aaron are with me. I just . . . I wanted to let you know before anything was reported on social media or the news or . . . fuck, wherever.”
“Man . . . fuck. I’m so sorry. Can I do anything?”