Page 2 of Next Time I Fall (Excess All Areas 2)

It was hard to believe their music fortunes had changed because of a woman called Willow Warner using their song in a video app called Shamaze. Now they had a recording contract and a producer because of it.

“Yeah,” Matt said, pushing his dark hair off his face. It was slightly shorter than Jase’s own. “Thankfully, Izabel had some time off yesterday, so she washed and folded everything and then got me packed this morning.”

“How very nineteen-fifties of you,” Jase muttered.

“Jase,” Nan warned.

He shook his head and looked down at his plate.

“No, I don’t mind,” Izabel said. Her voice dripped with something that tasted a lot like pity and he hated it. “It was nice to help out. One less thing for Matt to have to worry about.”

“What about you, Jase?” Nan asked.

“Packed it myself this morning because I’m an adult who doesn’t need their laundry done for them.”

His nan glared at him. It was the silent, “I’m tired of your shit.” She had a knack for reprimanding his twenty-seven-year-old arse without opening her mouth.

“What time are you all leaving?”

This bit he knew. “We fly at twenty past one tomorrow afternoon, have a two-hour stopover in New York, and then we get into Detroit just before ten at night.”

“You guys are going to be so tired,” Izabel commented, cutting her Yorkshire pudding and smiling like they were fucking friends.

Which sucked, because her smile was the prettiest part of their drummer’s little sister.

“I’m not going to think about it,” Matt said. “Luke and I are going to finish up working on a song. And I’ve got books and magazines. Happy to share them with you, Jase.”

He looked up at his brother with a sneer. “No thanks.”

“Anyway,” Nan said. “At least you are flying out in a posh cabin. Flat beds and blankets. Sounds amazing.”

Jase looked at his nan. “One day, I’ll pay for you to travel in style.” She’d given up so much for the two of them. When their grandad had died, a year after Jase and Matt had moved in, it had been tight financially. Holidays had been restricted to day trips to Blackpool, perhaps a weekend in the Lake District, if they were lucky.

“Aw, bless you. What does your Auntie Pat always say? There’s only one way to get out of Manchester. Football or music. I’m proud of the two of you, and your cousins. Well, I’d be prouder of the two of you if you weren’t acting like stubborn fucking goats, dancing around each other like fighting cocks.”

Jase huffed. “Enough with the farmyard analogies, Nan.”

Izabel grinned, and he bit back the urge to wink at her.

“She’s right, though, Jase,” Matt said, placing his knife and fork down. “We’re going to look like a bunch of dickheads if we don’t work together while we are out there. Jimmy Bexter has worked with some of the best acts. Parker Moseley, our A&R guy, will be there for some of the time. So will Simon, our manager. We’re going to look like amateurs.”

Jase felt the rage he worked hard to contain bubbling beneath the veneer he put on just for his nan. What Matt needed, what the band needed, was for Jase to concede that none of what they’d been through mattered anymore. That how Matt had lied to them all, how he’d nearly blown up the band, how he and Izabel had hurt him didn’t matter.

And worse, that by some mysterious force in the universe, him sleeping with Izabel, once, was enough to keep Luke in low-grade rage with him for two years, but Matt hooking up with her permanently was something he could get over.

“Not my fucking problem,” he said.

“But it is. You fuck this up and you fuck it up for all of us,” Matt shouted.

“Matthew Palmer, you will not raise your voice at my table.” Nan placed a hand on Matt’s arm.

“I’m so over his bullshit, Nan. I’ve tried for fucking months to make this right. It’s like he’s determined to ruin this for us.”

“You’ve turned into the establishment,” Jase said. “Listen to you. Oh, our A&R rep ... don’t forget our manager ... super-famous producer. You’re trying too hard to be famous, Matt. And it’s like a bar of soap. It’ll always pop out of your hands if you squeeze it too fucking hard.”

“You think it’s so fucking rock ’n’ roll to be a dick. But you know what? Everybody gets fed up with dicks eventually.”

“Must be fucking them wrong if they’re getting fed up with your dick. Right, Iz?” This time, he did wink at Iz. And he felt the shame and embarrassment rise as the colour faded from her cheeks.

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