Conviction(53)

Sophie says no more. We turn back to the stage and watch the rest of the set. Just as the boys are taking a bow, someone puts their hand on my shoulder. I turn and come face to face with Tyler Reed.

“Nina, how are you? You’re looking well.” He leans in and kisses my cheek. I don’t know why, but I get a lump in my throat when I look at him.

I thought he was going to be a part of my life.

I thought I was going to be a part of his family.

“I’m good Ty. A little bit drunk, but I’m good.”

“Jenna’s just gone over to the bar, d’ya wanna come and have a drink with us?”

I fumble around my fuzzy brain, trying to find the words I need to use, to make a sentence that will explain why I couldn’t possibly join him and Jenna at the bar for a drink, when Sophie says from over my shoulder, “We’d love to. Lead the way.”





Conner



“Fuck yeah!” Gunner throws his sticks into the crowd and then pulls me into his nine-foot-wide chest.

I’m not usually so emotional, my nieces and nephews are normally the only ones that get to me, but this last month or so has been hard. There have been times since losing Jet that I’ve wondered if I’d ever be able to do this again. I’ve doubted my ability to be able to perform, to sing, to play guitar. I’ve thought that without Jet by my side, it would just be too hard, but today has blown all of my self-doubts out the window. I’m f*cking buzzing. My blood feels like it has electricity charging through it.

“Yeah. Come on,” Marley roars as we head off stage. “You f*cking rocked it, Reed. You f*cking slayed them.”

I will never, till my dying day admit to anyone what his words have just made me feel. Marley Layton is God to me. My heart is hammering so hard, I wouldn’t be surprised if I’ve broken a rib or two. I can’t wipe the smile off of my face, but at the same time I can’t swallow down the lump in my throat. I want to jump for f*cking joy, skip like a six-year-old girl, slide down a rainbow and kiss a unicorn. Fuck cloud nine, I’m up around seven hundred and eighty-seven.

But still, still I know there’s something missing and I feel it deep down in my gut when Gunner walks straight into Chelsea’s arms while we head to our dressing room.

Marley throws his arm over my shoulder. “I know it’s hard mate, but you’ve done the right thing getting up there so soon. I know it hurts and you feel like a part of you is missing but believe me, it’s the best f*cking therapy.”

Ashley is waiting in the dressing room and pops the cork on a bottle of Cristal as we come through the doors.

“Well done boys, you were brilliant.” She wraps her arms around Marley’s neck and licks the sweat off of his throat.

“Babe,” he complains, “You know playing live makes me hard. I’m gonna have to f*ck ya now.”

She pulls back, looking at him like she’d happily get naked right now, arches her eyebrow and says, “Come on then rock star.”

Marley grabs the bottle of champagne with one hand and his wife with the other and drags her out the door. “I’ll see you at the bar, boys. I need to be inside my wife for a bit.”

“Bit of what?” Gunner asks, passing Marley on his way in the door. His arm slung over Chelsea’s shoulder.

Fuck!

I feel lonely.

Lonely and horny.

Not a good combination.

I wonder if Meebs is still here. I asked Tyler to try and keep her hanging around after we finished our set. I need to talk to her. I have no idea what exactly I’m going to say, I just can’t let her leave without finding out that she’s okay. That she’s happy with the life that she chose instead of me, and I need to know what her little meltdown earlier was all about. The thought of standing next to her, being that close makes me lightheaded. Lawson, the prick, was bang on with what he’d said earlier.

“Conner Reed, what a *.”

I head straight for the shower with a raging hard-on.





I walk past the security blokes at the top of the stairs, giving them a nod and a smile. There’s another lot at the bottom, making it pretty impossible for anyone to sneak past and get up to the dressing rooms where all of the day’s performers are either getting ready or chilling after their acts.

I can’t believe that Josh has gone to all this trouble, but didn’t bother to warn me that Meebs would be here with his sister. I’ll be having words with the f*cker when I eventually catch up with him.

I’ve sent a text to Tyler, asking him if he has seen Meebs and if she’s still here, but he hasn’t replied. I’m more nervous as I approach the VIP bar than I was before going on stage earlier. The adrenalin from performing and my unexpected reunion with the girl that’s f*cked with my head all these years is still buzzing through my veins.

My chest feels tight, my palms sweaty and my legs wobbly. I shake hands with various people, virtually ignore the pats on the back and words of congratulations and condolence that I receive from celebrities, sports stars, actors and musicians. None of them getting more than a nod and maybe a smile. I can’t focus on anything other the conversation I’m practising in my head. If she’s there, at the bar, what am I going to say?

I try to force down the anger that bubbles up when I think about the way she just left me hanging that night. But f*ck it! I’m pissed off and I want some answers. I need some closure, I deserve at least that much from her.