Code blue, p.17
Code Blue, page 17
We were employed by the company to look after them.
And that was a very timely reminder for me. Had I really thought Jeremy would ever be interested in me? I was not in their inner circle. I was now questioning whether Jeremy and I were ever even friends.
I would have thought yes. Despite who he was—a world-famous household name—and the fact I was just the hired muscle.
It wasn’t even that I was not part of the Atrous inner circle. I certainly wasn’t. The truth was, he was so far out of my league, I wasn’t even in the same game.
I wasn’t saying Jeremy treated me differently because of status or wealth. He didn’t. None of them did.
But while I wished I could be out there with him, with the band—and while I could only ever dream of being with Jeremy the way Roscoe was with Maddox—I was kidding myself.
“Hey, Steeeve,” Jeremy called out.
I stood up from watching the CCTV cameras. “What’s up?”
He had a full beer in his hand. “Why don’t you come out with us?”
Uhhh. God, when he said stuff like that, I didn’t know what to think.
I gestured to the screen. “I’m kinda working.”
He frowned. “Oh. Fair enough.” He clearly wanted to say something else but chose not to. “Anyway, the steaks are done. If you want. And all the others. There’s even a salad.” He shrugged. “But Luke made it, so it’s probably questionable. I’d stick to the meat. Just to be safe.”
I smiled at him. Was he nervous? Disappointed? “Thank you. I’ll let the others know.”
He took a few steps away, then stopped. He made a face and shook his head. “You can take an afternoon off. You said before this place was as safe as it got. If you can relax anywhere, it’s here. Especially when there are five other security here.”
I couldn’t expect my team to work when I wasn’t. That wouldn’t be fair. But I wasn’t having that conversation with Jeremy today.
“Maybe later,” I replied. It was an easy out, but better than lying outright to his face.
He saw through it anyway. He held my gaze, clenched his jaw, rolled his eyes, and walked out.
He was so angry with me. Angry at me.
Justified or misdirected, I didn’t even know anymore.
I did let the others know that food had been offered, but I gave Jeremy some space. He needed some time with the boys, a sense of normalcy, and to forget about all the stalker crap.
I saw him eat a bit, something, at least, but he was knocking the beers back pretty easy. They never drank much, which was rare considering their lifestyle.
The absolute horror stories I’d heard and read over the years of bands and various musicians and their nosedive into drink and drugs. But these boys weren’t like that, and if Jeremy wanted to get absolutely shitfaced, considering everything he’d been through in the last week, I wasn’t opposed to that at all.
He needed this.
He had a few days before the responsibility of interviews and photoshoots beckoned, and it was actually kinda nice to hear him laugh and being his usual loud self.
His old self.
“Everything okay?” Roscoe asked. I hadn’t heard him walk in. “You were a million miles away.”
I hated being caught unaware. “Oh, yeah. Fine. Just thinking . . .”
He sat on the sofa across from me. I’d only seen him drink maybe one beer the whole afternoon. It was now going on three o’clock. “I love that they’re having some fun out there, but oh my god, they’re talking some shit.”
I smiled at him. “Loud, too.” It was true. They were talking louder, laughing louder. Not that I minded.
Roscoe eyed my laptop. “So, you watching those screens for anything in particular or just avoiding Jeremy?”
My gaze went to his and I sighed.
“You don’t have to say anything. He’s the same out there. He’s laughing, sure. But he’s in a pissy mood, and he keeps watching the back door like he’s looking for someone.” He shrugged. “You. He’s watching for you, Steve.”
I gave a quick shake of my head. “We’ve had a few disagreements. He’s hot and cold with me—laughing and touchy one minute, pissed at me the next. He’s stressed, for obvious reasons, and he’s probably sick of having me here.”
“He likes having you here.”
“What?”
“He told Maddox. Maddox asked if Jeremy wanted us to come over the other day, or if he wanted to come to our place, but Jeremy said no. I mean, he said you were a pain in his ass, who made him cook and clean up, but that you weren’t actually too bad to have around.”
I almost smiled.
“Has, uh . . . has anything happened between you two?” Roscoe asked quietly. “I’m picking up on some tension or something.”
My eyes darted to his before looking over my shoulder toward the patio door. They were still being loud and drunk.
“Something has?” Roscoe’s eyes widened.
“No,” I said quickly. Jesus. “No. Not like that.” Did I tell him there’d been a few moments where Jeremy had been close enough to kiss, where he’d looked at my mouth, licked his lips . . . “There’s been—”
“Hey, m’ favorite cat herder,” Jeremy said to Roscoe as he came in, his words slurred. He ignored me.
“Jeremy, have you had enough to eat?” I asked.
He spun, surprised. “Oh, you wanna talk t’ me now?” He was clearly drunk, staggering a little as he walked through. “Need m’ guitar.”
His words stung.
Roscoe and I watched him disappear down the hall and Roscoe’s gaze landed back on me. “What was that about?”
I sighed, not sure what I could say.
He was about to say something else but then Maddox appeared. “Here he is!” He made a beeline for Roscoe and all but fell onto him, sitting on his lap, his arms around him, and he kissed him.
Right in front of me.
Had I seen them be affectionate? Yes. Touching, a quick peck, hugging, holding hands? Of course.
But this was a full-on kiss, with tongue.
Roscoe was obviously surprised, but he enjoyed it for a few seconds before pulling back. Maddox jumped off and pulled Roscoe to his feet. “Jam session time. Come on.”
Roscoe went willingly, smiling as Maddox dragged him out the door. “We’ll talk after?”
I gave a nod. Not that it would make much difference. I didn’t know what to say now. I doubted I’d know any time soon.
Jeremy appeared with his acoustic guitar. I got to my feet. “Jeremy,” I tried.
He ignored me again, walking past me as if I didn’t even exist.
It hurt more than if he’d struck me.
He held the guitar up like a trophy as he went back to everyone. They were all sitting around now, a circle of sorts. Jeremy stood with his foot up on his chair and began to strum his guitar. Luke tapped two beer bottles together. Wes used the beer cooler like a bongo drum. Blake did some kind of beatbox noise, and Maddox did the main vocals, though they all harmonized.
I leaned against the doorframe and watched them.
First song they sang was “Fly.” It was Jeremy’s favorite, so I wasn’t surprised he played it first. Then “Oceans,” followed by “Reflection.” It was how all their concerts started. Then “Puzzle” and “Jisei.”
It was magical. So much fun, so much talent.
But when he played “Code Red,” Maddox sang it to Roscoe. It was hard not to watch and smile.
The others harmonized, but Jeremy never sang a word.
He looked at me, though, as he strummed.
And that perhaps said more than the lyrics.
Amy took Wes’s phone and recorded them singing in the sunny shade, all drunk and smiling. She circled them, mostly doing close-ups of Wes but the others, too.
When that song ended, Jeremy strummed right into “Come Together” by The Beatles. And then they sang “House of the Rising Sun” by The Animals.
“Okay, requests,” Jeremy called out.
“‘Can’t Help Falling in Love’ by Elvis,” Roscoe said first.
Jeremy strummed a chord or two. He looked up from his guitar and frowned. “Don’t know it. Pick something else.”
“It’s C G A—” Robbie said, holding an imaginary guitar. He stopped talking when everyone spun to look at him.
“You know how to play?” Blake asked.
Robbie grinned. “Sure I do. All my family does. Uncles, aunties, cousins.”
“The fuck, man,” Jeremy said, handing his guitar to Robbie. “Play, play.”
Robbie took the guitar and everyone waited…
And he played.
He strummed the intro and everyone cheered, but then he sang the first line and everyone went dead quiet . . . until they erupted in cheers and began to sing with him.
I had no idea Robbie could sing.
He was a big guy, easily two hundred and fifty pounds, but he had a sweet voice. He played the guitar like it was a ukulele and he totally had the Polynesian vibe, but holy shit. He was good. And I was stone-cold sober. The guys who were all drunk must have thought he was the best thing they’d ever heard.
They were quick to their feet, sang every word, very loud. Jeremy had one hand in the air as he danced, his eyes closed, singing at the top of his lungs. Maddox had his arm around Jeremy’s shoulder, Luke and Blake and Wes all danced, and Amy filmed it all.
Then he played “The Chain” by Fleetwood Mac. It was crazy to me how the band could completely ad-lib but know how to harmonize a song they’d probably never sung together before. Robbie did that strum/thump thing with the guitar, and the five singers fucking nailed it.
It was incredible.
When the song was over, Robbie handed the guitar back, but Maddox took it instead of Jeremy.
“You wanna be careful, Steve,” Luke called out. “Platinum might wanna sign him.”
Robbie shook his head and waved him off. “No thanks.”
Wes watched the footage that Amy had filmed and the others took a quick look too. It would no doubt end up on their Twitter or TikTok.
“Here, let me see it before you post it anywhere,” Roscoe said.
Thank god.
Maddox played some Kings of Leon and the mood simmered down a bit. They still sang, but they drank more beer.
Until Jeremy decided it was time for tequila.
Not long after that, Wes and Amy called it a day. They said their rounds of goodbyes, and Ivan herded them into their van and they drove off.
“Yeah, we might go too,” Luke said.
“Nah, let’s go out,” Jeremy said.
I whipped my head around so fast, I’m surprised my neck didn’t crack. Jeremy seemed pleased by my reaction. “Let’s hit the club. Wanna dance, find some girls.”
His words churned like grease in my belly.
Luke turned to me. I could tell by his face he didn’t want to go. “I’m sure Steve doesn’t think that’s a good idea.”
It was the worst idea. And having a stalker aside, him going out when he was already drunk was not a good idea. But that was a PR issue, an image issue. My concern was security.
I shrugged. “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea. But if he wants to go, then we go.”
Luke grimaced and turned back to Jeremy. “Next time, brother. I might have plans tonight?” He cringed. “Which I’m trying to keep on the DL.”
Jeremy stared at him. “A date? Who the hell with? One of your repeats?”
Ouch.
Luke stared at him, then spoke to Blake. “And that’s why I didn’t want to say anything.”
“Jer, that’s not fair,” Blake said.
“No, she’s not a repeat,” Luke said sharply. “If you really have to know, it’s Vana. I’m kinda seeing her.”
Jeremy stared at him and it took a second for the penny to drop. He swayed, the bottle of tequila heavy in his hand. “Vana, from Cyko? Blonde hair?”
Luke didn’t answer for a second and I wondered if he would at all. “Yeah.”
Jeremy nodded slowly, then took another swig of tequila. “She’s cute.” Then he pointed the tequila at me. “Steve loves Cyko. Had a calendar ’n’ everything till I threw it out. Who’s yer favorite, Steve? Which girl?”
I gave Luke an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I’m not overly familiar with them.”
“Nah, Steve won’t answer,” Jeremy went on. “Likes secrets ’parently.”
I ignored that, and I smiled at Luke and Blake instead. “The calendar was just a promotional thing.”
“I threw it in th’ trash,” Jeremy slurred. “If he’s gonna have a fucking calendar, it’s gonna be of me.”
“Yeah, okay, Captain Jose Cuervo,” Blake said. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”
Jeremy mumbled something drunk and unintelligible, took another swig of the tequila, and went in search of Maddox.
“Sorry about that,” I said. No, it probably wasn’t my place to apologize on his behalf. “He’s been really stressed with the stalker . . .”
Luke nodded but kind of rolled his eyes too. “Yeah, among other things.”
What was that supposed to mean?
Blake clapped my shoulder. “Bet he’s been a real joy to be around.”
“And he’s gonna be hungover as fuck tomorrow, so good luck with that,” Luke added, and along with Zoe and Jason, they left. I watched their van drive out the gates on the CCTV screen, and when I couldn’t put it off any longer, I went out to the patio.
It was late afternoon now, almost evening. Maddox sat in a chair beside Roscoe. Maddox was still nursing a beer, but I think he’d stopped drinking it a while ago.
Jeremy sat next to Maddox. He was now holding his guitar, the tequila beside his chair. He strummed a few chords, then sang, “Steve, Steeeve, Steee-eeeeve,” to the tune of Dolly Parton’s “Jolene.”
Then he strummed a different tune. An angry tune. Harsh, violent strums.
“You okay there, Jer?” Maddox asked.
He didn’t reply, just strummed harder.
So that’s a no.
Riko and Robbie came over from the rear boundary. “The back’s all clear. Gonna head to bed for a bit,” Riko said. He checked his watch and grimaced.
“Make it five,” I said. “I’m guessing he won’t be up early tomorrow.”
The strumming stopped, and Riko and I both turned. Jeremy was staring at me.
God, he was staring like he hated me.
“Maybe I should check the CCTV screens,” I said, deciding to give Jeremy some space. I gave Roscoe a nod and turned to leave.
“You know, maybe you should,” Jeremy yelled. “Fuck off inside. Don’t wanna see you no more.”
It wasn’t even his words that hurt me. It was the look on his face. Yes, he was drunk, but still . . .
Everyone stared at him. “Jeremy,” Maddox whispered. “What the fuck, dude?”
Jeremy stood up and stumbled a little, pointing at me. “No, fuck him. Liar.”
That word hit me like a bucket of ice water.
“Liar?” I asked quietly. “I have never lied to you, Jeremy.”
“You didn’t tell me the truth, either.”
“I’m not doing this now.”
“You know what?” He could barely stand still, he was so drunk. But my god, he was so angry.
“Jeremy,” Maddox said, standing beside him now. “Just chill.”
Then he turned to face him. “You know, I think I want new security.”
What?
“What?” Maddox and I asked at the same time.
“Want new security. Then I won’t be . . .” He ran his hand through his hair. “Such a fucking mess.”
He wanted new security.
Was he firing me?
Holy shit. He was firing me.
Well, that changed everything.
“We can talk about this tomorrow,” Maddox said. “You’re drunk as fuck right now.”
“No. Now. I’m done. I’m done with this . . .” He motioned between us. “Whatever th’ fuck this is. Call Ryan, Ambrose.” He patted down his pockets, obviously looking for his phone.
But I couldn’t move.
Was he firing me from his detail? Or was my job working with Atrous over?
Jeremy sneered at me, swaying. “Can’t do this anymore. You can leave, Steve.”
“Jeremy, no,” Maddox said.
“Stay out of it, Madz,” Jeremy snapped.
My heart felt like stone, cold and heavy. I felt sick to my stomach, but I managed to nod.
“Of course,” I heard myself say, the sound distant and subdued as if it came from underwater. Riko and Robbie stood there, speechless. I’m guessing their faces matched mine. “Riko, you’ve got lead.”
I somehow managed to get my feet to move, the urge to run, run away bubbling just under the surface. I made it inside before I could breathe, and every step I took felt as if I was walking in glue. My vision was off-kilter, my blood pounded in my ears.
“Steve, wait,” Roscoe called out.
I didn’t realize he was so close, so when he grabbed my shoulder, I spun around, my fists up. Defense mode, strike first.
“Whoa,” Roscoe said. He took a step back, his hands up.
Fuck.
I showed him my palms instead. “Sorry, sorry.”
“He’s drunk. Don’t listen to him right now. He doesn’t mean any—”
“Jeremy,” Maddox said outside. There seemed to be some kind of scuffle in the darkness and Jeremy all but fell inside the doorway.
His eyes were trained on me. Wild, angry. Drunk. “You.”
I wasn’t doing this now. Not when he was so drunk.
Roscoe faced him. “Jeremy, leave it alone.”
Jeremy ignored him. He was still staring at me, as though Roscoe hadn’t spoken at all. “You can just walk away.”
My heart hurt so bad.
I shook my head.
“You can just fucking walk away so easy.” Jeremy swayed a little. “Like nothing matters.”
“Jeremy,” I breathed.
He pointed at me. “Fuck you. Who th’ fuck do you think you are? You don’t walk away from me.”
“You told me to go,” I shot back at him. “The hell do you want me to do, Jeremy?”
“Act like you give a shit.”
What?
“You have no idea,” I said. I was angry and hurt. I didn’t give a shit who knew. “Don’t tell me I don’t give a shit, Jeremy. When every fucking thing I do is for you.”
