Page 9 of Dirty Rock

“Rhett, come on. This is a big deal. I’m here for you. I’m your friend.”

“Catch ya later, Jules, yeah?”

“Let me stay.”

“Just go.”

“I’m not leaving you like this.”

“Get the fuck outta here, for Christ’s sake!”

Before she could respond, I walked away, slamming the bathroom door shut behind me, and I found myself leaning over the counter by the sink, staring into the bloodshot eyes of the famous man I’d somehow become—the one with a life full of adventure that a million other men would give their left testicle to live for a day.

Everything I’d ever wanted, I now had. All those days chasing the dream, and there it was in my hands. There it was staring back at me.

But my real father was dead. A man I’d never met, and he’d left me as a baby without looking back. He was half of me, and I had no idea what that half consisted of. I wondered if I looked like him. Did I have his eyes, and did his brows furrow together the way mine did whenever I concentrated? Was his hair dark, and did it grow too fast at the sides? Had he covered his skin in tattoos along the way before he died? Had he been successful with the women, played an instrument, or struggled to sleep at night? Had he drunk too much and dabbled in things he shouldn’t have? Had he been a reckless fuck up, too, like me?

He was dead.

I didn’t even know him…

I was alive, and I had to concentrate on living the way I always had.

Selfishly.

Without regret.

“I fuckinglovemy life,” I whispered roughly to my reflection. “I love my life. I love my life. I love my life.”

Chapter Three

Three days later, the news came in.

“She said yes!” Julia cried out to the room, which instantly erupted into cheers and applause. “Tessa said yes to Presley’s proposal!”

Julia’s eyes were alive with excitement as she looked down at the floor and pressed her phone back to her ear. Anyone would have thoughtshewas the one Presley had just popped the question to.

Coops was sitting beside me on the sofa in our hotel suite, while Big D cheered proudly and barked something about opening a bottle of champagne. Hawk smiled like a dumb ass, and Dicky Bennett—our perpetually grumpy manager who always wore blue jeans and a white shirt—flopped back on the sofa with a sigh.

“There go a million fans,” he grumbled.

“Ah, come on, Dick. Not all the chicks are with us just for Elvis. Some might be here for me and the other three ugly fuckers, too.” I laughed, throwing my beer down my neck before I dropped the bottle back into my lap and glanced at Julia. “But why’s she so pumped about the lovebirds getting married?” I chucked my chin in her direction.

Coops looked her way. “It’s a woman thing. Women love this stuff. You know, romance, happy endings, the guy getting the girl and all that.”

“You think Jules wants what Tessa has? The romance shit?”

“I hope not. The last thing we need is her settling down and leaving the band. We’d be screwed without that woman in our lives.”

“Why does everyone think we’d be screwed if one person fucked off and left us? We’re Youth Gone Wild. The name alone is strong enough. Everyone’s replaceable. Except the frontman, obviously.” I smirked.

Coops rolled his eyes and shook his head. “You know I don’t usually say a lot, man, but you’ve been different these last few days. Everything okay?”

My smile faded, and I scowled at him. Coops didn’t say a lot, that much was true, but I had no fucking idea what he was talking about. I’d been putting on the performance of a lifetime to make sure the guys didn’t suspect shit. The news I’d learnt about the stranger I called my biological father had been swallowed down and forgotten about the second I closed my eyes that night.

“Perfect,” I lied. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

“Good.” He nodded, studying me and taking me in. “But if you feel like telling me the truth at any point, you know where I am… before you do something stupid.”

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