Callum McGregor and Ian sat across from me in the hospital cafeteria. Being in this hospital was always comforting. Ian and Lennon and I had spent many hours in this cafeteria, and we sat at Lennon’s favorite table by the window that overlooked a pond filled with ducks. The sound of Lennon’s laughter came rushing back to me, and I smiled. I missed that kid fiercely. He was always happy, always curious, always asking questions about everything around him. He’d never once complained about all the painful treatments he had to go through. He’d never even asked why.

I had, though. I’d cursed God and the Queen and everyone else I could think of. Our family was torn apart after Lennon’s death, but during his illness, we’d banded together for him. It wasn’t till after he was gone that everything went to shit.

“How’s the charity going?” Ian asked Callum. Callum was a sad sack of shit, but I loved him. His life was a mess, but so far, he’d done a good job of running the charity. We raised millions of dollars at fundraisers held all over the world and gave a huge portion of our earnings to the charity. Callum was in charge of identifying the leading cancer studies on the most cutting edge treatments that we could help fund and making sure that money got to them. Ian and I had insisted on funding not only the most well-known scientists, but also funding the smaller, more obscure ones that were doing more experimental work. Our goal was to help find a cure for cancer. We didn’t care where that cure came from.

“It’s doing great, Ian,” Callum said. Callum was a skinny, nervous chap, his hands always flying around as he talked, his eyes darting back and forth between the two of us.

“Have you heard any promising news from any of our funding recipients?” I asked.

“They don’t keep me in the loop too much,” he said.

“Keep you in the loop? Just go visit them. We are giving them millions of fuckin’ dollars, for fuck’s sake.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t like to bother them.”

“I hardly think a phone call or a quick visit would be a bother, Callum,” I replied.

“Of course, of course. I do keep in touch with them, don’t get me wrong.”

“Right. Did you get those fiscal reports to the accountant?” Ian asked. “He called me the other day and said he hadn’t received them yet.”

“We were having some computer problems in the office this week. I’ll get them over to him as soon as I can.”

“Okay, great. Well, is there anything you need from us?” I asked. Being in the same room with Callum was never pleasant. He had Ally’s eyes and it was unnerving to look at him. He was a stark reminder of a past that I tried hard to forget.

“No, I don’t think so. The money is flowing smoothly, everything is going great, and maybe someday someone will find a cure.”

“We’re bankin’ on it, mate,” Ian said, patting Callum on the back. “Thanks for keeping the ship afloat, brother.”

“My pleasure,” Callum said. “It’s good to see the two of you.”

“You too, Callum,” I said, standing up to leave, and shaking his hand. “Is that a new watch?”

“Oh,” Callum said, pushing his shirt down over what looked to be a very expensive rolex. “Yeah, a present from my Mom.”

“Oh, and how is your Mom, Callum?”

“She’s doing great, thanks,” he replied.

“Wonderful, give her my love,” I said.

“We’ll see you at the show tonight, right? You get your tickets?” Ian asked.

“Sure did, Matt sent them over.”

“Great, see you there,” I said, as Ian and I turned to walk away.

“Well, at least Matt did something right,” Ian muttered.

“He’s the worst manager ever,” I replied. “Even worse than the last two.”

“Yep,” Ian said, his voice laced with irritation. “We’re digging out of the bottom of the barrel, it seems.”

“Yeah, that’s my fault, right?” I asked. Ian’s disappointment in me was always evident, always right on the surface.

“Pretty much, Liam,” he said. “I guess most people who sign on to be a tour manager don’t fancy getting death threats.”

“Right,” I said, falling silent as we walked back to the hotel. The bright sunshine blinded us as soon as we walked outside. We put our sunglasses on and put our heads down, hoping to avoid being recognized by anyone during the short walk to the hotel. We usually had Big D with us, but Ian and I insisted on visiting the hospital completely alone. Big D was a big, scary guy, and the kids at the hospital had enough fear in their lives.

“How’s everything going with Catherine?” Ian asked.

“I don’t know. I’m sure I’m probably screwing that up, too.”

“Yeah, you probably are.”

I laughed, in spite of myself.

“You’re such a wanker, Ian.”

“Just make sure you keep your pants on, at least. The last thing we need is another article about your sexual prowess.”

“Oh, come on, mate! It’d be a smash hit!”

“Right. Well, if you want to be sure we ever have another smash hit, then you’d better be on your best behavior with her. She could make us or break us.”

“I hardly think one little story could hold such power, Ian.”

“It’s not the story we’re worried about, Liam. It’s your fucking reputation. As a professional. Interest is waning, ticket sales are down, and nobody wants to work with us. Get your shit together, or we’ll be shovelin’ shit instead of swingin’ that ax, mate. If I have to get a real fuckin’ job because of your shenanigans, I’ll shove my boot up your ass!”

“Don’t worry, little brother. Have I ever let you down?” I asked.

“Yes!” he cried, throwing his hands up in the air. “Every bloody day of our lives!”

“Oh, calm down, Ian! You’re so fuckin’ dramatic. I’ve got Catherine right where I want her.”

“Well, as long as that isn’t on the tip of your dick…”