The Complete Rockstar Series

Two years later.

“Dax!”

I turn to see Adam rushing to catch me as I walk into the New York studio where we’ve been recording our latest album. It’s a soundtrack for some movie I’ve never heard of, our first time doing one, which is odd seeing as we’ve been around a while.

“Dax, you won’t believe what happened last night.” Adam is panting from running through the building, presumably to locate me.

“What happened?”

His eyes dart around, looking for what, I have no idea. Adam grabs my arm and pulls me into the nearby men’s room. He checks to make sure it’s empty before calming down enough to speak.

“Is all this subterfuge really necessary?” I ask, rolling my eyes at his dramatics.

“Yes,” he hisses. “I just got a call from London.”

My mind goes a million different ways at once, mostly bad, mostly involving his fucked up family members. Did his dad die? His mum? His bastard of a brother?

“It was from a girl named Gemma. Gemma Spencer.”

“So you ran after me to tell me that your number got leaked to a fan site again?” I ask irritably. “I have plans tonight, Adam. We need to start recording so I’m not stuck here late again.”

He huffs impatiently. “No, not a fan site. Shut your gob and listen.” I scowl at Adam, but wait for him to continue. “This girl, Gemma, she says she works with Ellie!”

Ellie? That isn’t even remotely close to anything I was expecting him to say.

“What about Ellie?”

“She claims to be Ellie’s best mate.” Adam is positively beaming with excitement. I haven’t seen him this alive since…well, since Ellie.

“Adam, she could be some nutter trying to trick you,” I say, not wanting to destroy the first sliver of happiness he’s experienced in ten years, but I don’t want him to get his hopes up if it’s just some cruel prank.

“No,” he grabs my arm. “She knew things. Things only Ellie could have told her. She said Ellie’s been trying to contact me, through email, through the record label, even through regular post. I’ve never heard a word about it.” Adam’s face becomes stormy, his eyes narrow in anger.

“They probably thought she was lying. Loads of people probably ring up the label and claim to be our friends.”

“Right, well… this is the real deal. I’m going to London.”

“What?” He could have knocked me over with a feather. “You’re going to London based on the word of a random girl who rung you up?”

“No. I’m going because she’s not lying. Ellie’s mum is getting married. I’m crashing the party.”

I laugh, bending over with the hilarity of it all until I realize he’s not kidding. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious. I’m going and getting my girl, just like you did.”

I’m speechless. Kate and I eloped right after the closing ceremonies of the Olympics. We didn’t think there was any point in waiting after all those years apart. I wonder if Adam will come back married to Ellie.

“Oh, and I need to bring Zane with me. Can I borrow him?”

I sigh, my reminiscing coming to an abrupt halt. “Yeah, sure. What are best mates for?”

Indeed.

We have our best session in years, mostly due to Adam’s upbeat attitude. He’s so spot on we finish thirty minutes early for a change.

I hurry out, jumping on my brand new Ducati, zipping out of the car park. I speed through the streets, weaving around cars and take the Holland Tunnel to the Jersey Turnpike. Thank god for the bike, otherwise I’d still be sitting in stagnant traffic back in Manhattan.

An hour later, okay, so I broke the limit a few times, I pull into the lot at Jesse Owens Memorial Stadium on the campus of Rutgers University. I kick down the stand and lean the Ducati to rest. Heading toward the entrance with my helmet tucked under my arm, more than a few heads turn my way.