Love and other dumb feelings

He was gone when I woke up, leaving me curled up in his bed, naked and sated and with the radiator burning my knee.

It was nice, other than the sore knee, obviously, which I rubbed furiously as I unfolded my limbs and stretched out properly. Sharing a single bed and duvet with a big lanky bloke wasn’t all sex and fun. It was really bad for my back, and I had an awful crick in my neck that I would have to loosen up before today’s hell hour with the personal trainer.

But my head was clear, and my alarm hadn’t gone off yet, so I still had time to enjoy a bit of a lie-in before whichever driver who was on Dieter-duty today came and picked me up.

They were all moaning about it, the drivers. This wasn’t their favourite place to hang around in their highly polished executive cars. I blamed management for insisting on luxury to ferry around a bunch of blokes they worked so hard that they hadn’t had time to learn to drive. If they treated us better and actually paid us our proper percentage of royalties, we could buy our own cars.

We’d never have known about it if it hadn’t been for Musa and his cousin or uncle or whoever it was—the newly minted hotshot lawyer specialising in entertainment contracts, who’d picked through the past ten years of Blitz’s career with a fine-tooth comb.

We were being fucked over. From every angle.

He hadn’t put it so crudely, but that was the truth.

We’d raked in a massive profit from our last tour, huge amounts of money, most of it paid out as bonuses to our management and the parent company that owned the Blitz trademark. There was a further offshore company with a few familiar names as stakeholders. I didn’t need to have a law management degree to understand how incredibly dodgy that all looked. Suffice to say, those stakeholders weren’t us.

It was wrong on so many levels.

Musa’s relative had shown us the accounts, payments in and out that led to nowhere, massive deposits that suddenly ceased to exist. Added to that, our contracts included a bunch of clauses that meant that those contracts could be changed, without notice and without our agreement. No signatures required.

We were currently paid almost nothing in royalties because we’d apparently accepted the latest contract change.

The six of us didn’t even own the Blitz trademark. We were just…employees.

It turned me cold.

It wasn’t like there was a Blitz union. No well-being coordinators around to ensure we were still alive. When Bash and Josh had still been underage, we’d had them everywhere. Then there had been that woman who was supposed to keep an eye on Lee. Chaperones and on-the-road tutors still followed us around because it was part of the image—the incredibly weird bio on our website still referred to us as a teen pop sensation. I hadn’t actually looked at it for years.

Once he’d realised how deep in the shit we were, Musa’s lawyer uncle-friend-cousin was so livid even Musa had been scared of what he was going to do.

I had been rattled to the bone. Having no control over my life had been bad enough when I’d believed we were in capable hands. It’s being taken care of, Lauren kept telling us as we trooped out on stage night after night or wound up an eighteen-hour day in the studio or those bigwig managers in their suits turned up to parade us around, making us shake hands with Important People who wanted pictures and autographs. I hadn’t cared. As long as I could pay my bills and my accounts looked healthy, I’d done as I was told, and I’d trusted we had some kind of long-term investment set up to ensure we didn’t blow it all and would have funds for the future, when this was over.

That time had come, not only because I wanted out but because now I was also terrified there would be nothing left.

At all.

I got up. Dressed in an odd mix of my designer jeans and Reuben’s well-worn hoodie. I wanted something from him with me today. We were treading on new ground here and everything felt unstable.

Plans.

All kinds of plans.

Sunglasses on, I sat in the back of a car that was far too big for just me and my trusty rucksack, which was emptier than usual. I wouldn’t need much today, but I’d brought a piece of fruit from the plastic bowl Stewart filled every week and then emptied into the compost since none of us knew how to put vitamins in our bodies.

I’d promised him I’d try. Hence the apple.

It made me smile. All this smiling was good for me. Made everything feel lighter.

I opened my phone and tapped out a quick off-the-wall lyric. Sent it to Josh, who sent me a swift thumbs up.

Got a beat for that. Keep going.

Keep going. Yes, we had to. None of us could quit now.

Love, and all those other shitty feelings. Like hurt, so good it makes me want it. Shoot right at my heart, because like you, I need it.

I kept going. I wanted to fight, like Josh had suggested. Kind, quiet Josh, who had mates at a production company. They’d been on at him for years to let them do some kind of exposure on Blitz. Management would’ve put us in straitjackets if they’d ever got wind of it.

Love. Stop going. Start fighting.

Love. It was there. In my head. I just didn’t know what to do with it. I’d never been in love. Not for real. Never experienced anything like the messed-up feelings I got every time I tapped out a message to Reuben, the one person who saw past The Dieter. Saw the real me.

I’m stripping off my armour for you.

Reuben. With his messy hair and big smile and an even bigger heart. Kindness oozing out of his pores. Drowning me in something I couldn’t explain. I couldn’t even properly describe it in lyrics. How he made me feel.

Drowning. Treading water when there’s nothing but you.

We were all doomed. Especially me.

The studio was a hive of activity, nothing to do with Blitz. We weren’t done recording, but the second I walked in, Lauren brusquely grabbed my arm and pushed me towards the lift.

“Up, meeting. Now,” she said, jabbing her highly manicured finger into the lift button.

I did as I was told, same as always, and even managed not to punch anything as I took my seat next to Cork. Bash sat to his left; Josh, Musa and Lee were on the other side of the table; Kieran Williams from the management company had the top seat. Cork was white and drawn, his hands shaking under the table. The others were silent and stony-faced.

What the hell? I stood up, about to demand to know what was going on, but Josh discreetly shook his head. My phone vibrated.

Sit down and shut up.

I sat, looked up and met Musa’s warning gaze.

“So, boys.”

That was Kieran Williams. I couldn’t remember what his official title was. Blitz Industries wank-waffle or something.

I crossed my arms.

“We’ve had a reshuffle, as you’ve probably noticed, and this new album will be out sooner rather than later. As we discussed last time, we’ve approved four new tracks, as well as those dance remixes, and the lead single will be a surprise drop in two weeks, which will need a snazzy visual.”

He clapped his hands like he was excited. I’m sure his wallet was.

Snazzy visual. They might as well roll out a coffin and plonk Cork in it. Headfirst. He was shivering so much, I reached out and held on to his arm. He was bloody freezing.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

He had nothing to be sorry about. This was all wrong.

“Lauren, are we all set up?” the wank-waffle asked.

“For what?” Lee demanded.

“We’re flying you out to Santorini this evening. The crew’s already there, I believe.” He looked to Lauren, who nodded in confirmation. “Beach, a bunch of models and you guys—the perfect party vibe. It’ll all be shot in one sequence. Wardrobe, hair and make-up will be on the morning flight. Lauren has secured accommodation—”

“No,” I said at the same time as Josh stood up. “What song is this for again?”

Kieran looked a little bewildered but covered himself well. “That jazzy little number…” scrolling on his laptop in front of him. “…‘Trust Me’. That’s the one.” He seemed very pleased with himself.

“Mr Williams.” I stood up too, pushing down on my knuckles so hard I wouldn’t have been surprised to find dents in the tabletop as I pinned my eyes on the guy.

“Gray. It is Gray, isn’t it?” He smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile. Slimy bastard.

“No. It’s Mr Smith actually. I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced.”

He lost the smile. Then laughed.

I saw red, I admit it, but I wasn’t a complete idiot. Still, Cork put his hand on my arm just in case.

“Mr Williams,” I said, keeping my voice low. I may not have been much of an actor, but I’d had a month’s worth of vocal lessons for that shitshow of a period drama just to master ‘pissed off and will absolutely not marry Lady Catherine, hell, no’.

“Graham Smith,” I said, pointing at myself. My vocal coach would have been proud. “And this is Cameron Cork-Berkeley.” I indicated the others. “Mustafa Imran, Lee Carter-Murphy, Joshua Lukasz and Sebastian Clarke.”

“I am familiar with your names, kids. Now, Lauren has all your passports, and we’re drawing up—”

I held up my hand, made him stop. Stood a little taller. I wasn’t exactly serving a nuanced performance, but I stared him down this absolute dickhead. Kieran whatever.

“‘Trust Me’ is my song. I wrote it. Joshua Lukasz is credited for the music. We have only one file of it, and that file is on my laptop.”

“We have a fully mastered copy.” Kieran Williams looked so smug.

I took a few seconds to breathe, kept my cool. “And who holds the rights to that copy?”

“Don’t be difficult.”

Musa stood up too. “That track belongs to Gray and Josh. And it’s quite interesting that you have a fully mastered copy. I would also like to know who owns the rights to that song.”

“Boys.” Lauren laughed nervously. “Calm down. You know full well that we own the rights to all Blitz music. It’s not really worth getting in a tizz over.”

“No,” I said. “‘Trust Me’ was never a jazzy little number. ‘Trust Me’ is a slow love song. Something very personal. It’s a piece that was never going to become a Blitz song. And it never will.”

“And, Lauren?” Musa said, walking around his chair, pushing it slowly in underneath the table. “Firstly, we’re not children. Everyone in this room is an actual, fully functioning adult. So stop with the pathetic childish nonsense.”

Silence. I liked it. And Musa was on a roll.

“Secondly, Cork… actually, his name is Cam. And Cam right here needs to get back to hospital. Now. How did you ever think this was a good idea? Did you actually visit him in hospital? If not, we’re more than happy to enlighten you…” he smirked “…since Mr Lukasz and I have been visiting him regularly. As for you.” He turned to Kieran Williams, who turned almost as pale as Cork… Cam. “You, sir, are full of shit. We all know how much bloody spyware is installed on those laptops. Gifts, were they? Christmas presents? So generous. And now we know for sure because you’ve just admitted to it. You’ve been stealing material you have no rights to.”

“That is absolutely not true!” Kieran blustered. “Per your contracts, anything you produce in-house automatically belongs to the Blitz corporation.”

I was gobsmacked. I hadn’t known that. And I was furious—with management and myself for not paying attention sooner. “That is highly unethical. Especially as it was stolen from a private account.”

“Nothing is private here.” Kieran Williams laughed. “It’s all in your contract. So I suggest you sit down and make yourself familiar with the track, since we will be on a tight schedule. I don’t expect any more of these ludicrous tantrums. We expect professionalism here, at all times.”

Musa snatched his phone from the table, held it up. Then pressed the stop button.

I cheered silently and made a promise to myself to get my own phone and stop using the company one, like Musa had told me to do ages ago. How stupid was I? But whatever, we had this meeting on tape now.

I turned and helped Josh lift Cork from his chair. I had no idea how they’d even got him here in the first place. He could barely walk and the sweat was pouring off him.

“I’m not well,” he mumbled as Josh pretty much carried him from the room, the rest of us right behind them. Kieran Williams shouted empty threats at our backs and I turned and gave him a long, hard stare.

“Come on,” Bash said, his hand steady on my back as we walked out together. “Good job,” he whispered once we were outside. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For not going along with all this bullshit. You always do, and then we all go along with it too. It has to bloody stop.”

“I know.” I felt really fucking bad about that.

“I had a daughter two weeks ago,” Bash continued. “Josie’s still in hospital with her. Baby was premature. I haven’t slept since.”

“Congrats!” I smiled and patted his shoulder. “Well, you need to be with Josie then, not swanning off to bloody wherever.”

“Hell, no,” he said. “Good to see you.” He shook my hand. Then he disappeared.

I had no idea what to do, but I followed the others outside and held onto Cork… Cam… I really needed to get used to calling him that because all these stupid alter ego’s had to go…while Josh stomped around, his phone to his ear. He ended the call.

“Cam’s mum’s on her way. She didn’t even know the hospital had let him out. His immune system is too weak to be out like this. He should be in bed on oxygen. Have they no sense?”

Right on cue, Lauren appeared, yattering away on her phone. She was heading straight for us, purpose in her stride. I held up my hand. Stop.

Make it fucking stop.

Right now.

Enough.

“We’re done, Lauren.” Musa.

“But—”

“No but.” Lee. “Just…the hell off.”

Thank you, Lee.

She stomped off without an argument. I could hardly believe it.

“Gray, dude, You know? Don’t you?” Musa asked.

“Know what?”

Musa pulled me aside. “Cam has some kind of chronic lung disease. Management thought it would be better clickbait to seed the rehab story, since lung disease isn’t cool enough for the Blitz brand, and we don’t want to upset the fans, do we? It’s insane. They have absolutely no shame. And that Kieran Williams is going down. We’re all heading to meet with Josh’s mate now, and after that, we’re going to sue the shit out of everyone. You in?”

“Why the hell did no one tell me?” I hissed. I felt so angry. Betrayed. Embarrassed.

“Because you were waltzing around being some bigwig actor and not taking our calls. Wake up, Gray. We’re so fucked that it’s not even funny. And Cam needs out. Now. This isn’t doing him any good.”

I could see that from the way he was leaning on Josh, while Lee was hanging on to Cork’s…Cam’s bag trying to steady them both. Musa was right. I’d lost track of everything and no longer knew any of these guys. I couldn’t even tell them apart from their stage personas. I was no better than Kieran Williams.

We were just cardboard cutouts. Shadows. Barely human.

Cam coughed. Horribly. Desperately.

What the fuck had these people been thinking?

I was so angry. And so sad. Bewildered. Shocked. Tired as hell. All at the same time.

We were going down. Every single one of us.

Yet…

I knew.

I had to smile to myself.

Trust me, I knew.