Page 63 of Dirty Rock

“Heard what?”

He sighed heavily, stalling, which only pissed me off even more. “It’s Julia,” he began, dragging his words out.

Jules opened her sad eyes and stared at me, saying nothing.

“What about her?” I croaked.

“She’s… she’s quit the band, bro. She’s walked away. She told Dicky she can’t do it anymore. We’ve fucking lost her.”

Chapter Twenty-One

“Everyone is freaking the fuck out. Coops has gone into some kind of mourning and won’t answer the phone to any of us. Presley and Tessa are trying to get hold of Julia to convince her to stay, but she’s not answering to anyone. She’s gone completely off the radar. Big D thinks this is the end of the fucking band. Without her, we’re going to get some boring bitch who’ll set us up with really shitty promo and won’t know a damn thing about what’s best for Youth Gone Wild.”

Hawk droned on and on.

I didn’t say a word as he spoke. I just stared at Julia who had tears in her eyes, but she stared back with that same steely determination I was more than familiar with from tour.

We still have time…

That’s what she’d meant.

We had time before I found out she’d quit on us. On me.

“Rhett, you there?” Hawk asked sharply, making me swallow the betrayal.

“Yep.” I cleared my throat. “Still here.”

“So, what doyouthink?”

“Isn’t that the question of the moment?”

Julia closed her eyes, and I wanted to take her face in my fucking hands, hold her to me and ask what the hell was going on. I also wanted to get off the damn couch and walk away from the whole sorry mess we’d wrapped ourselves up in. The lie I’d let soften me when I should have known to stay hard.

“Why has she quit?” I asked Hawk. I asked Julia, too. Only one of them answered.

“No one knows. After she left us in America, nobody seems to know anything. Although…” He paused, unsure of himself before he spoke again. “Pres mentioned you might know where she was.”

“Why would I know anything about Julia Speed?” I practically spat the words, and her eyes opened to take me in again. “It’s not like I’m close to her or anything.”

At that, she uncurled her legs, got off the sofa, and walked around the back of it to the open plan kitchen behind us. I stared at the wall ahead of me. At the chequered country curtains. At the moonlight beyond the window.

“That’s what I said. Elvis thought differently.”

“Yeah, well, Presley doesn’t know shit.” I rubbed my forehead with my free hand. “Listen, I’ve got to go.”

“Where are you?”

“Somewhere I no longer want to be.”

I ended the call, stood up, and tucked my phone into the back pocket of my jeans. When I stepped around the couch, all I could feel was that damn tightening in my chest again. Only this time, it didn’t feel sweet in the slightest. This felt angry. Like betrayal had taken the shape of a sword and driven itself straight through my chest just as I’d let down my guard.

I’d been a fucking idiot.

Julia was standing by the kitchen sink with her hands pressing down on the counter, her shoulders hunched, and her head hanging low. My hands balled into fists by my sides. I felt taller somehow, lifted by my disappointment and the need for truth.

“So…” I started, not recognising my own voice.

“Don’t,” she breathed, barely loud enough for me to hear.

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