“For years he’s walked all over me, trying to get ahead. I snapped.”
Snap.
I rose from my chair and began pacing, unsure whether to keep listening or throw my Jimmy Choos at the tiny backstage monitor.
“But what about that particular moment triggered your anger?” Danny Logan, the UK’s top TV interviewer questioned. “You were live on television on New Year’s Eve and you had the crowd rocking. What caused you to turn on your brother like that?”
Drew Brooks shifted awkwardly under Danny’s stare. “I saw him in front of me on the stage, getting all the glory, pretending he’s the one behind our music. I couldn’t take anymore. New Year was supposed to be a new start for us but he’s still the same arrogant, selfish b… person he’s always been.”
The sense of dread that had settled in my stomach since I found out this gimmick was going ahead had exploded into full-blown rage, and my temples throbbed with the tension. A few deep breaths eased the pain and I tuned out of the interview, unable to take anymore. I should have stayed at home, but no matter how much I hated this fabrication, I couldn't say no when Drew asked me to go along for support.
That's what best friends do, right?
The ten minutes before Drew entered the dressing room dragged on forever. When he stepped through the door sweat glistened on his face from the studio lights. My glare stopped him in his tracks. “I can’t believe you went through with that.”
“If I don't do as I'm told, I don't get paid.” Drew gave a half-hearted attempt at a grin. My lips remained in a tight, thin line, and he sighed. “Come on, Ellie. What was I supposed to do? Go on TV and admit this is all a lie?”
“It’s not all a lie, this stuff happened! This is your life. You can’t blurt out years’ worth of Jason’s issues as if they didn’t hurt you. This is dangerous, Drew.”
“You’re reading too much into it.” Drew tugged a towel out of his bag and wiped the sweat from his face with slightly more vigour than necessary, paying extra attention to his beard. “You knew I’d be asked about him tonight. That was the plan, remember?”
“The plan is for Derek to get rich by using your past as entertainment.”
“If this works, we’ll all benefit. Derek will finally get paid for putting up with us, and we’ll get a real chance at making it in the music business.”
Razes Hell’s manager, Derek Richmond, was everything I hated. Not content with securing a much coveted spot on TV on New Year’s Eve for the boys, he had to take it a step further and create controversy. “You’re in a rock band,” he’d said. “People expect this kind of explosive behaviour, and you have to give the people what they want.” Instead of letting them make their mark on the music industry through their talent, he’d dragged them down to his sleazy, get-rich-quick level.
Bloody stupid Derek.
“I don’t care about Derek. I care about what this might do to you. When you were talking tonight… you didn’t make that stuff up. Do you honestly think Jason won’t see what I saw?”
“Why do you assume he watched?”
The the note of bitterness in Drew’s voice didn’t pass me by, and his tone only proved my point. Whether he realised or not, after one week of Derek’s scheme, Drew’s well-buried resentment about always being the one to clean up Jason's messes had already risen to the surface. Although the New Year incident was as fake as a Page 3 model’s boobs, the Brooks brothers had more than their fair share of crap to throw at each other, and Drew had just flung his first handful.
“It was still a risk,” I said. “A stupid risk.”
“Well, maybe it's my turn to be stupid. Maybe it’s my turn to be selfish.”
He shrugged off his shirt and pulled on a clean one. He’d actually dressed up for the occasion; he’d swapped his usual black t-shirts and jeans for… well… a black button-up shirt and jeans, but still, he’d made an effort.
My eyes lingered on his bare torso for a second. I tore my gaze away before I had chance to take in the light scattering of hair across his chest; his strong arms and his soft, slightly pudgy stomach that made his hugs infinitely more comfortable than being pressed against hard, ripped abs.
Okay, I took it all in and it annoyed me. There’s nothing worse than swooning over someone you’re angry with.
“So, what's the plan for tonight?” I asked, banishing those thoughts to the little compartment of my brain I’d kept especially for those thoughts since they first fluttered into my consciousness. Developing feelings for one of my oldest friends was right up there with moonwalking on the sun on my list of things I thought were Never. Gonna. Happen.
Yet there I stood, shamelessly ogling him with his shirt off.
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