-24-

11th January, Latvia.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

Ash gave Spook’s reflection a hard stare. They were in the dressing room, backstage post-gig, sprucing themselves up before heading on to the party the tour manager had arranged.

“Why the hell wouldn’t I want to celebrate my birthday?”

Twenty-five—that seemed a significant enough milestone to warrant marking the occasion. It kind of felt as if making it to a quarter century ought to impart some wisdom or something too, but it didn’t feel any different, and he’d certainly not had any lightbulb moments today.

Spook kept his mouth shut and continued dragging a hairbrush through his blond locks. The strands were already tangle free and shone like spun gold, so grooming was entirely unnecessary, but he’d been bouncing on his toes in agitation, and the brushing motion seemed to have stopped that.

“Are you saying, I should curl myself into a ball and whimper like a kicked puppy? I had a life before she was around, and I still have a perfectly decent one now. I’m fine, Spook. And for the record, I’m done wasting my time brooding over someone who has so little regard for me.” He pulled on his jacket. “See, I’m getting on with my life. There’s no sense in being miserable over what’s already in the past.”

His friend steadfastly continued to keep his lips locked.

Ash dragged his fingers through his own shaggy mop of hair and figured he’d do. He was a hot rock star, after all, and it was his party, so he could dress however the hell he wanted. If his eyes were dark around the sockets, then that was only due to the change in routine due to being back on tour after a six-month hiatus. Likewise, if he was a bit skinny, it was down to the new exercise routine and not because he’d been subsisting on fish fingers, booze and alphabet potato shapes. He just hadn’t been hungry, and his alcohol consumption always rocketed when they hit the road.

Always…

Same as his libido spiked.

Getting laid post-show was part of the ritual.

Spook wrinkled up his nose, as if someone had let off noxious wind. “So, your grand plan for turning twenty-five is to compensate for being lied to by lying to yourself. Great work, Ash. Real clever.” He slapped down the hairbrush and about turned towards the door.

“How am I lying?” Ash yelled at Spook’s retreating back. “What am I lying about, Spook? Please do enlighten me.”

His friend glared back at him over his shoulder. “This is what you were like post Connie too. You stuck your head in the sand and pretended the world was fine, instead of trying to work out what the fuck went wrong.”

“I know what went wrong. I chose the wrong bloody woman to have a relationship with. I always choose the wrong bloody women.”

Spook rolled his eyes and gazed heavenward. “By all means, if it makes you happy, you keep telling yourself that. But Ginny was the best thing that’s happened to you, like…like ever. Also, you’re not moving on. You’re hiding. What you should be doing is communicating with her.”

Ash clenched his fists, as the blood began roaring inside his ears. “I don’t have anything to say to her,” he snarled through his teeth.

“Really?” Spook said, voice thick with sarcasm. “You’re not the slightest bit curious why she hid things from you? Her history is of no interest to you?”

It wasn’t. Why should he care about her, when she clearly cared so little for him? “We’re over. What does any of it matter? Why do you keep going on about it to me?”

Spook sucked taut his upper lip, and Ash waited for him to spit out another retort. He knew one would be coming. They’d had more or less this same conversation every day, at least twice a day since they’d hit the road. To his surprise, Spook walked out of the door.

Irritated, Ash scrambled to catch up. He stood in the dressing room doorway and yelled down the corridor after Spook. “You know this isn’t some piddly misdemeanour you keep expecting me to forgive. How would you feel if you learned you’d been screwing another man’s wife for nine months, or that the woman you thought you knew doesn’t even technically exist? Ginny Walters is a fake. She’s not real. Friends and lovers aren’t supposed to keep secrets from one another.”

Spook swivelled around on his heels. “Is that right? So, you’re saying you’re entitled to know everything about every member of this band?”

Yeah, actually. “Everything that matters.”

Spook shot two fingers up at him. “Except plenty of things have fuck all to do with you.”

“I know about your girlfriend, Spook.”

Spook marched three paces towards him. “You know fuck all about anything. What do you actually know about me Ash? What do you know about my life before we met? Nothing, that’s what, because it’s none of your fucking business.”

“But if it were, you’d tell me.” Leastways, he hoped so. Spook’s glowering irritation was seeding doubts.

His friend bowed his head and stared at his baseball boots. Slowly his shoulders began to tremble as if he were laughing to himself.

“What?”

Spook met his gaze again. “Nothing… Absolutely nothing.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and found a stick of gum, which he shoved into his mouth. “Carry on believing whatever you need to, but at least contemplate the possibility that she didn’t tell you earlier for a valid reason.”

Luthor stuck his head around the door at the end of the corridor. “Guys, the car is waiting.”

Rock Giant pushed his ugly mug into view too. “Hurry it up. I want cake, and apparently we can’t have cake until the guest of honour arrives.”

They both dutifully trooped towards where they were supposed to have been ten minutes earlier.

“Were you guys fighting?” Luthor asked as they piled into the mini cab.

“Respectfully disagreeing,” Ash claimed. He shot a smile in Spook’s direction, but his best friend refused to acknowledge him.

Okay, well screw him. “Let’s go and party.”