Chapter Thirty-Eight

The microphone was pinned to his shirt and he smoothed back his hair. A short blonde girl with a pixie cut rushed into the room with a make-up brush and she quickly gave him a last-minute touch-up. Then she gave him a quick smile and scurried off again.

“On in thirty seconds,” came the call from the green room, and Dax stood up and moved his neck to the right, and then to the left. Kelly smiled and gave him a nervous thumbs-up. Then Dax took a deep breath and stood in position.

He heard the voice introducing him. “So, ladies and gentlemen, we’re so honored to have him here tonight. Please welcome Dax Monroe!”

The screen doors opened and Dax fixed a beaming smile on his face, although inside he felt sick to his stomach. The lights ahead of him were so bright that he couldn’t see the audience behind the cameras, but he waved at them anyway. They screamed for so long that he could only stand and wave until finally, the host came to his rescue. It was probably less than ten seconds but to Dax it felt like a lifetime before she came up, held his hands, kissed him on both cheeks, and invited him to sit down.

The audience was still screaming, and Dax smiled and held up his hand again, before the hysteria finally died down. The host, Linzi MacDonald, crossed one leg over the other and shook her head slowly, grinning. “Dax Monroe, I thought we’d seen the last of you!” she cried.

The hysterical whoops and screams started up again but died down quickly as Dax chuckled. “Never,” he said. “It’ll take a lot more to get rid of me, Linzi.”

“Well, we’re honored to have you here tonight, Dax, and you’ve got a hell of a story to tell! Let’s take a second to look back at some of the clips from your last tour. Check this out.”

They both turned to the screen and Dax watched with a fixed smile on his face as frames and clips of him on stage in Tokyo, Moscow, Paris and London came up in a montage lasting around ninety seconds. Dax could hardly remember most of the footage; one night was like every other when he was on tour. Most nights he’d already had quite a bit of liquor before getting on stage, and even a line or two of coke if it was offered.

It was like watching someone else up there on the screen, an actor playing a role. And Dax was back to playing the role, too. Sitting in the chair in his designer suit and slick hair, a platinum watch on his wrist and smart, shining shoes, he was back in the saddle again. And if he could, he’d have run away in a heartbeat to escape to the middle of nowhere.

Grant was the one who insisted he did the Linzi MacDonald show. Once Grant had the thought in his head, there was no stopping him. “Thursday night, prime time television,” he said, tapping his finger on the desk to drive home the point. “She’s the best name we’ve got, and she knows where to draw the line. She’ll make you look good without delving too much into things nobody wants her to talk about.”

“Right,” Dax said, agreeing. He always agreed. But things were changing inside him. Every time Grant suggested something, Dax went along with it, but a little part of him wanted to resist. And that part was growing stronger. In fact, Grant had given him an outfit to wear, and Dax had refused to put it on.

“Don’t be a little fucking brat right now, I don’t have the time,” Grant said. “Put on the jeans and t-shirt.”

“I’m going to wear a suit,” Dax said. “I want to look smart.”

“You’ve got a contract with the jeans company and it makes you look boyish. You know, cute. The kind of guys you usually like fucking because they look so much like you.”

Usually a comment like that would have had him blushing and wincing but instead he simply shrugged at Grant, keeping his gaze steady. “I’ve got a smart suit lined up. Find me a sponsoring company that makes ties and I’ll wear one with the shirt. I’m sick of looking like a kid. I’m not eighteen anymore.”

There was a barb to the last sentence, and he knew that as he uttered it, Grant felt it. The message was clear. Dax wasn’t a kid. He was a man, a man slowly beginning to take control of his own life. Slowly, of course. He wasn’t ready to invoke Grant’s full wrath just yet.

His manager’s nostrils flared but even he knew which battles were worth fighting and which weren’t. So Dax wore the suit he wanted to the show Grant wanted him to do. And now here he was, sitting in the chair, looking over at a screen full of heroic, Dax Monroe spectacular moments.

As it ended, the audience warm-up guy prompted everyone to applaud again. Not that they needed the prompting. Cue the wild screaming and appreciative hoots once more. Dax turned to Linzi with practiced charm. “Damn, you make me look good up there,” he said.

“Oh, that’s all you,” Linzi gushed. “I have to say it’s such a relief more than anything, to have you on this stage again. I’m pretty sure we all thought you’d disappeared off the face of the earth. Isn’t that right, gang?”

“Yes,” the audience chorused, and Dax wanted to stand up and yell at them that they had no business knowing where he was at all times. That just buying a record or going to a concert didn’t mean that he owed them an explanation for every single second of his day. If he wanted to get into a rocket and fire himself into space for a few years, that was his prerogative.

Of course, he only grinned, and pressed his palms together in a symbol of peace, bowing his head in silent apology. “You’re right, I sort of slunk away for a little while, didn’t I?” he said to Linzi.

“We heard all about your accident, saw the absolutely ghastly pictures.” Linzi’s voice was full of practiced sympathy, that came from years of hosting talk shows and grilling celebrities. Thankfully, she didn’t put up pictures of his accident on screen. It was on the long list of things not to talk about that Grant had emailed over to her production team when he discussed the exorbitant fee for the Dax Monroe exclusive.

“Yeah, I was beaten up pretty badly,” Dax said. “I broke my spine in three places and shattered my arm in three places, too. I guess bad luck comes in threes for me.”

There was a smattering of laughter for something that wasn’t even funny. Dax could have said black was white and they’d have hung onto his every word and agreed with him.

“But, uh, I took some time to recover and I spent two months really working on myself. I couldn’t walk for a few weeks, and I had to learn to do it all again. And slowly but surely I healed. And I had to heal myself in other ways, too.”

“Oh?” Linzi leaned forward. “Tell me a little bit more about that.”

His palms were sweating, but he tried to remain as casual as possible. “Well the tour took it out of me, you know, and I realized that I’ve been in the business for so long that I’ve never really had a break.” He found his stride now, and began to talk with the confidence he’d learned to have in front of the camera over thousands of interviews. “So I would do a concert, move to another city the next night, and do another concert there. I was drinking far too much, and I needed to take stock of my life.”

Remember who to thank.

“I mean, my manager, Grant, he was amazing. He made sure that I had the care I needed and told me that there was no rush to get back to work. I’m just relieved that the accident happened at the end of the tour so that I didn’t let any of my fans down. Because they mean the absolute world to me, and their messages of love and strength are what got me through the weeks of rehabilitation.”

More applause and a “we love you, Dax!!” from the crowd, at which Dax grinned and waved his thanks. He straightened his tie and cocked his head a little at Linzi, as though flirting with the host. “Being invited on here tonight has really helped me, too,” he said, lying through his teeth as part of the deal. Endorse the show, and we won’t mention a guy called Andy and what the hell you were doing in his shitty car. “To know my family and all my friends have been worried means that I’ve dug deep to find the strength to come back.”

Linzi’s lips quivered and she even wiped away an invisible tear from her dry eyes. “Oh God, that means so much, Dax,” she said. “And I’m so lucky to count you as a friend, too. You look incredible, so am I right in thinking that you’ve completely healed now?”

“I’m getting there every day, thanks to my physical therapy regime and plenty of gentle exercise.” He neglected to mention his new therapist, Darlene, a buxom, no-nonsense woman, had taken over. “I still have a slight limp when I run, but that’ll get better in time. I’m fitter and stronger than I’ve ever been, my head’s clearer, and I’m even getting back in the studio.”

This was greeted by huge claps and cheers and Dax grinned at the audience while Linzi sat open-mouthed in faux shock. “Really?” she gasped as though she hadn’t known about this already. “So soon?”

“It’s the only way I can give back to the fans,” Dax said. “And I have a little announcement to make, if you don’t mind me hijacking your show for this?”

“Oh please, I can’t think of anything better!”

“Well, as a huge thank-you to the fans and to everyone who kept me going after the accident, I’m announcing a one-night only special at Ledbrooke Park on December 22nd.”

The screams were deafening and Linzi was pumping the air in over-exuberant joy. “Oh my God!” she yelled. “Oh my God! I’d better have a ticket!”

“Well, tickets go on sale on October 1st, so that’s two weeks from now, and I hope as many people as possible can join me there.”

Ledbrooke Park was the home of California’s biggest soccer team, and their stadium was the largest in the USA, with a capacity of one hundred and ten thousand seats and even more for standing crowds. The announcement did the trick: the excitement in the studio was palpable and as they were going out live across the country, there would already be hundreds of thousands of eager fans chattering excitedly about it on social media and looking at ways they could get their hands on tickets.

“And, can I ask, will Alicia be there?” Linzi asked the rehearsed question and Dax gave a sheepish grin and tried to look as bashful as he could.

“Well, as you know, Alicia and I have been in love for many years and as much as we like to keep our private lives out of the gaze of the public eye, I have to thank her for being my rock through all of this, for putting up with all the terrible months of pain and hard work. She’s the greatest woman I could ask for and I really hope she does join me at the concert because she’s my ride home!”

More laughter from adoring fans, and with that, Dax had answered his critics, although with a lie. He’d barely said two words to Alicia on the phone after arriving back in LA, and she’d seemed disappointed that he was still alive, and that she’d once again be called upon to dress up and hang out with him in public. Her own career was going through the roof, and she was itching to leave him behind now that she’d made such a name for herself.

But for now, hers was the only name on his lips when it came to romance, and with that, the interview was pretty much over. Dax and Linzi wrapped up with polite chit-chat and a new singer came out to belt out her latest single. As the lights went down and the producer yelled “aaaand we’re out!” Dax couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

In the green room, he took off his tie and sipped a glass of soda water. Grant called. “Great job,” he boomed. “Nice touch about Alicia. And the concert? Jesus, the ticket companies are ringing off the hook and they’re not even out yet! Welcome back, kid! You did me proud.”

“Thanks,” Dax said, feeling as though something slick and slimy was oozing down his ear.

“You headed out the back to do a meet-and-greet?”

“No, I’m tired.”

“Drinks with Linzi? Damn, I don’t know why you like cock so much. Five minutes with that little filly and I’d be balls deep—”

Dax hung up. He’d pay for it later but he could always say the signal went. He was tired. It was late, and his back was aching. He was tired of being back on the hamster wheel. Tired of lying to make other people look good.

And it wasn’t about to end, either. He had barely three months before the concert, and he wasn’t about to get a single day off between now and then. Just the thought of it was exhausting. He left the studio before Linzi could come back and talk to him, and he and Kelly slipped out of the building and into the car Rocky had waiting for them.

He got home to his quiet house and didn’t even bother turning on the television. Instead he went up to his bedroom and lay on the huge bed, staring up at the ceiling. All he wanted was a cup of tea and a slice of toast.