Page 5 of Love You Like That (Excess All Areas 4)

With a shrug, Cerys grinned. “I don’t know, but I licked Jase so he’s mine,” she signed. Cerys looked immediately over to Jase and laughed. “He lovingly said to stop signing about him behind his back.”

“Sorry, Jase,” Zoe said, not remotely sorry.

In the seven months since music producer Cerys had fallen in love with Jase, Zoe had gotten to know the band well. They were related for the most part. Jase and his brother, Matt, were cousins to Ben and Alex. Matt’s best friend, Luke, was their drummer. But more than lines on a family tree, they were close. The kind of staggeringly close Zoe couldn’t comprehend. With no siblings and only her parents still alive, her family was small. But the Sad Fridays? Their family was big. Loyal. The centre of everything they did. They lived near each other, surrounding their nan. They worked together. Toured together.

Sometimes it was overwhelming when they were all together. It was impossible to keep up with the conversation.

But she also envied them. To have all that family and feel so thoroughly accepted for who you were, to have so many people back you up, must feel wonderful.

Maybe it was being from a small family, or perhaps it was a result of the bullying she’d endured as a child at school which had left her isolated, sometimes she felt overwhelmed around them all.

Perhaps it was why she’d once hoped to find her place and gain respect within an orchestra, but somehow her world was still small.

Alex mindlessly stirred her coffee as he chatted with Jase about the water pipe, and she realised that despite the fact they were world-famous rock stars, they were just normal men.

She knew Alex had no shame having the last serving of anything, Jase would dance while he cooked, Matt hated rom coms, Luke was the worst person to sit next to on the sofa because of the way his leg jiggled constantly, and watching Ben around his best friend, Chaya, was a study in unrequited love.

It was weird to feel wanted, to have so many people in her business. Yet, for some reason, the band had adopted her. Their girlfriends had adopted her. Their nan had adopted her. It felt uncomfortable, yet exquisitely precious. Something she wanted badly but struggled to cope with.

“It’s a sign,” Cerys signed.

“Of what?” Zoe replied.

“You have to come on tour with us now. You can’t live here while it’s like this. It’ll take an age to fix it.”

Zoe rolled her eyes. Cerys and the band had been trying to persuade her to join them since the planning stages of the tour. At first, an informal offer had been on the table for Zoe to help Cerys, who would be the tour’s sound engineer. But it had quickly become apparent at rehearsals she was surplus to requirements.

So, Zoe had extricated herself from the offer by continuing to build her freelance career so she had a valid excuse to stay home.

A career she didn’t love but could do to avoid being around a career she loved but couldn’t do anymore.

Okay, it was a flimsy excuse. The majority of her work was virtual; she could do it anywhere.

“Hey, guys,” Cerys signed and said. “I’m just saying Zoe now has a reason to come.”

Jase put his arms over Cerys’s shoulders. “Yeah, come with us, Zoe. You can work from anywhere.”

“I don’t have hotel rooms booked.”

“I can share with my brother or something until we can sort that out,” Alex said.

“Or we can sleep on the bus. It’ll be like camping,” Cerys said. “Please, Zoe. Don’t miss out on this.”

The feel of all their eyes on her was so overwhelming. Zoe stepped into the living room out of everyone’s intense gaze.

Cerys was right in one way. Their landlord was terrible for organising workmen to come to the property. When the boiler had broken, it had taken three weeks. The water would need to be turned off. Probably the electricity.

She could go stay with her parents, but her mum would only try to pressure her to return to her percussion career.

She fiddled with her earrings. They were her favourites, but Zoe tried not to overthink why. The silver and black ceramic talon earrings had been a gift from her parents for passing her A-Levels and landing a place at The Royal Northern College of Music. Her life and career path had been so clearly laid out. Graduate top of her class, take her Music Masters at Royal Holloway where she’d focus on percussion and writing for ensemble. Blaze her own trail, taking her lead from pioneering percussionists like Mino Cinelu and artists like Sheila E.

Her favourite had always been Dame Evelyn Glennie, but now her very existence was weaponised against her. Like Zoe, Dame Evelyn was deaf. “If she can, you can,” had become the motto of just about everyone she knew. Her mum and dad liked to remind her frequently. They’d send her links to articles about her, or videos to motivate her to continue the same path.

Zoe knew intellectually how it worked, and at many levels already felt it. The vibration through the floor, through her bones, and hairs on her arms and neck and forehead. It allowed music to play on in Dame Evelyn’s head.

She’d once watched a TED talk given by the drummer of Preload, Lennon McCartney, talking about how his prosthetic arm made his drumming better and had made him a better person. But he’d acknowledged at the time of the accident he’d wanted to shoot every single person who brought up Rick Allen from Def Leppard, who also played with one arm.

She just wasn’t ready for it.

---