Page 30 of Give Me What I Want

“Nothing,” Cole said, shoving my legs off of his and disappearing down the bus.

“My guess…” Mav said coldly. “Is that you’d know exactly what it was if you had gotten on board with everything last night, Jordan.” He was clearly annoyed about it, and no one, except maybe Ro, would argue with Mav when he looked at you the way he was looking at Jordan.

The bus fell silent, awkwardly silent, and then Mav spoke again, softly this time. “Do I have one too?” He was staring at me now, his head tilted.

“Of course,” I whispered with a smile.

“Good. Are we gonna talk about it?” he asked.

“Nope. Not yet.”

He licked his lips, then got to his feet. “Fine. Still certain this won’t hurt us?”

“It won’t,” I promised, thankful that he wasn’t going to push me to talk about anything. I had expected him to be the one to need to know what it all meant, but apparently, I was wrong.

“Good. I think, for now, I can live with that.” He nodded, mostly to himself, then followed the others.

Wondering where they had all gone, I went to follow too, but Jordan got up before I did. “You’ve all made a huge mistake; you know that right? What you did is going to be the end of us. You’ve fucked everything up, Beatrix.”

“I disagree,” I said as calmly as I could. I didn’t like the way he had just spoken to me. But I wasn’t going to blow up at him. He had this one free pass, but that was it. One comment because I could see how he might have come to that conclusion, but that was all he’d get, because he shouldn’t doubt me or my abilities. We could handle this. Whatever the fuckthiswas.

Jord busied himself in the kitchen as I sat and stewed a little, but I didn’t let it get to me for long, not when each of my other bandmates eventually made their way back into the lounge with smiles on their faces.

Cole made me a cup of tea and placed it down on the table beside me just as the door of the bus swung open and our manager climbed the steps. I shuffled, tugging my stolen shirt over my knees, stretching it out until it reached my feet, then I tucked it under my toes, making sure that I was well hidden. Ro noticed and came to sit on the floor in front of me, acting as a second shield. Without thinking, I dropped my hand to his head and began to stroke his hair the same way I often stroked Coles, humming under my breath and hiding a laugh as I went to start plaiting, just like I also did with Cole, but found Ro’s hair was way too short, and I could barely make a couple of twists before I ran out and had to start again.

Garth had been rambling on, swinging his newspaper around like he was a conductor or something as he spoke, going on about something to do with the soundchecks for tonight. I rarely listened to him anymore when he came in, knowing that when we arrived at the venue our tour manager would go over the fine details. Garth’s job was to keep us in line and keep us happy while reporting back to the label and making all of the arrangements we needed. He was there to support us, and that was why I always zoned out. Garth didn’t want to supportme, only the guys. That much he made clear during every single interaction we’d had. So I sat and hummed under my breath until he disappeared down to the kitchen, joining Jordan who was still hiding out.

Garth had helped himself to a sandwich, and I had relaxed when Ro had urged me to drop my legs and let him rest his head on my lap. Mav had one of his guitars out, a battered acoustic that was older than he was, and he was strumming a gentle tune. Cole drummed his fingers on his knees, then started to tap his feet in time with Mav’s riff, then Ro began to sing. I grabbed my cup of tea and sipped as I enjoyed the soft sound of my band making improvised music. The lyrics falling from Ro’s lips came in a raspy whisper, words that pieced together the story of a boy who just wanted to fit in.

I loved it when we did this. Once my tea was half gone, I joined them, harmonising with Ro while swirling my finger around the rim of the mug until our improvised song rolled into a slowly building, Deity-style, version of AC/DC’s “It’s a Long Way to the Top”. Garth rolled his eyes as he passed us, making his way to the door with a bar of chocolate in hand, and I noticed Cole scowl as he realised that it was one of his. He didn’t stop drumming though.

Garth left us to our music, and Jordan finally came into view, hovering by the side of Mav’s chair. He watched us, the icy coldness in his dark eyes slowly thawing as he caved to the music, and then he was disappearing down the bus, coming back a moment later with his own acoustic in hand. He flopped down onto the floor, placed it on his lap, and began to play, taking over the rhythm from Mav and allowing him a moment to mess around with an intricate solo, plucking strings and making me squirm and grin.

Ro noticed, his head twisting in my lap, neck craning to look up at me with an eye roll. “You’re awful,” he whispered, and I swatted his head playfully.

It may have been a true statement, but I wasn’t going to let myself think about it. I wasn’t going to get lost in thoughts about Mav’s fingers, and I certainly wasn’t going to act on it. I was sore after far too long out of action. I needed to rest.

My head was pounding the following morning, thump thump thumping in my skull in perfect synchronicity with my racing heartbeat. I had curled myself into a ball, not sure how to handle what I had woken up to.

I was going to murder Ronan when he got back from his workout.

He was a fucking dead man.

But before I committed that crime I needed to deal with the fallout of his. I needed to bury it, right now. But my head hurt. I couldn’t form a functional thought. All I could do was reach for my phone where I had tossed it in a rage after seeing the first article, and squint at the screen as I scrolled through my contacts. I called out, hoping that Mav would be calm enough to come back to the bedroom as I pressed call on my sister’s name and held my phone to my ear, remaining curled up like a baby.

Maverick appeared in the doorway, still red-faced, as Juno answered my call. Leaning against the frame, he folded his arms and stared at me with a frustrated look on his face.

“What?” he asked, but I didn’t answer, instead I tucked tighter and spoke into my phone.

“June-bug, something really crappy has happened, and I don’t know what to do. Can you…” I bit my lip, hating myself for putting her in this position, for even asking for her help, but she was the most efficient person I knew. “Can you help me?”

“What is it? Is this a real drama? Or a Bea drama?” She laughed, and I could picture her now, probably sitting in the little back office of the old restaurant she had inherited from our parents. She was attempting to turn the place into a successful music venue, but currently, it was just about running as a popular local bar.

“Real drama,” I whined, then uncurled a little, glancing up at Mav, covering my phone as I asked him as sweetly as I could if he’d grab me some painkillers and some water.

“Go on,” Juno urged, and I began to explain what had happened. Except, I was tripping over my words, not making a single bit of sense at all.

Maverick came back, placed a glass of water down on the bedside table with a couple of pills, then peeled my phone out of my hand and took over, pointing at the pills then moving back to the doorway with his back to me.

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