Unplugged (Blue Phoenix, #3)(7)

“Aww! It’s my big brother, the rock star!” Louise says too loudly and half-staggers toward me, wrapping an arm around my shoulder.

Definitely drunk if she’s being affectionate. I peel her fingers off me. “Good night, Looby Lou?”

She attempts to focus on me and pouts. “Don’t call me that. And yeah, apart from...” She glances at Cerys and suppresses a laugh, plonking herself in a kitchen chair. “Cerys had some fans.”

Cerys half-smiles and rolls her eyes in an exaggerated way. “Yeah, I’m just a magnet to sad bastards.”

I rest against the kitchen counter and watch them. Pissed girls; in the Blue Phoenix world, they’d be targets. I picture Jem stepping in, turning on his strange persona that has girls falling at his feet or into his bed. If Dylan were here? He doesn’t even need to try. He could ignore them all evening and still a girl would be on his lap by the end of the night. Me? Not now, but before Honey I’d watch and wait. Not like a Blue Phoenix guy has to wait long or do much to get a girl. In fact, I don’t think I’d know what to say to pick up a girl if I needed to, because I never do.

“Nobody caused problems, I hope?” I ask.

“I’ve been dealing with sad bastards for years. Cerys is a bit out of practice, but I helped her fend them off,” says my sister.

“I can imagine.”

“What time is it?” asks Cerys, squinting at her phone.

“Oh! 3 a.m.! Shit!” Louise rubs her face. “Will Ella be up soon?”

“Six if I’m lucky,” groans Cerys.

“Bad luck!” Louise veers out of the room toward the downstairs cloakroom.

Cerys regards me over the glass she’s holding, cheeks flushed and eyes swimming with the alcohol in her system. If she’s out of practice, she’s going to feel like shit tomorrow.

Slumping back in her chair, Cerys continues to stare and it’s unnerving.

“You okay? Can I get you something?” I ask.

“Just wondering why you’re not staring at my tits anymore.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Because that’s not appropriate.”

“ ‘Not appropriate’,” she mimics my words, “That’s not very rock star.”

“When I’m here, I’m not very rock star. Hadn’t you noticed?”

“Rock stars are hot,” she says with another drunken giggle. “Even you.”

“Thanks. I think.”

“No, no, no,” she waves a hand frowning. “I mean even you, Louise’s big brother who wasn’t so hot when he was a teen.”

“You hung around us enough back then.”

“I was a kid and it was cool to hang around a rock band. Shame you forgot all about us when you left.”

“I never forgot; I come home when I can.”

She stands and steadies herself on the table. “When you got famous, I put pictures of you guys all over my bedroom wall. I was such a sad fangirl.”

“You were fifteen.”

“I fantasised about one of you coming back and whisking me away for the rock star lifestyle.” She includes a sweeping gesture with her arm, almost tripping over.

I smile at her drunken ramblings. “A lot of the time it’s not so glamorous. Mum and Dad come over to LA sometimes. You should come with them next time.”

Cerys pushes a strand of hair behind her ear and shakes her head. “My life is in Cardiff with my daughter and...” Her mouth turns down. “Well, just me and her now.”

I chew my lip; I’ve spent the last few days wondering where Ella’s dad is. I figured it’s none of my business, but I’m alarmed Cerys is getting upset about it.

“Dickhead,” she mutters, “I should’ve waited for my hot rock star to come back, instead of getting pregnant at seventeen.”

She huffs, sits, and bends down to take her shoes off. The simple action, the ordinariness of the night and the twinge of regret I feel for her blends together as I watch. I can’t picture her at fifteen. She looks completely different. I want to stroke the hair from her face and ask what happened and why she’s so sad, a fierce protectiveness gripping me. Because she’s the little girl from my past? No. Because nice people don’t deserve to be treated like crap.

When Cerys and Louise were fourteen, some older guys from Sixth Form were sniffing round them. I know for a fact Lou got herself into a situation she shouldn’t with one of them. Me and Bryn stepped in and scared them off, threatening violence we’d probably not have carried out. I remember the Cerys from then, vulnerable and naive. She’s lost the vulnerability, her strength is obvious, but my urge to take care of her remains.

She sits back with the black high heels in her hands. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Whatever that look is.”

Chicks are weird. Multiply that thought by a thousand with her next move. Cerys heads toward the kitchen door with the determined look drunk people have, as if crossing a small space is equivalent to climbing Mount Everest. She pauses next to me.

“It was you,” she says.

“What was?”

“I fantasised about my best friend’s big brother, plenty of girls do. You had the added bonus of being in the most famous band in the world.” She fixes her gaze on my mouth and slowly runs her tongue along her bottom lip. “Then there was the night you kissed me, but I bet you forgot about that. Bet you’ve kissed thousands of girls.”