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Evie, her grey eyes storm clouds in the summer, spits at me, “Stay out of it, Kellen. It’s none of your business. You lost all those rights a lot of years ago.”
Mick comes over to stand next to me, murmuring quietly, “We should clear the room, boss.”
I look around and see everyone gawking at us. Some groupie types try to get phones out to film the chaos. “Everyone out,” I demand.
Jude, the middle brother, states quietly but very firmly, “You don’t give us orders, Kel.” He looks at me with disdain before turning to Evie and asking, “What do you wanna do, E? We can all just leave.”
There’s no way they walk out without giving me answers. They disappeared from my life once, it’s not happening again. “Over my dead body.” I front up to Jude. “No one’s leaving until I know what the fuck is going on.”
“The dead body bit can be arranged, Kellen. Not an issue for us.” He stares at me with cold, dead eyes.
Mick pushes everyone who doesn’t belong to the band towards the door and asks the Greystones’s security guy, “Can you do a check and delete any photos on phones?”
The security guy looks at Jackson to confirm it. Jackson nods at him. “Do it.”
I turn to look at Evie and her son, or should I say our son if this shit show is to be believed. I scrub my hand down my face, not really able to comprehend what’s happening. “Evie, what the fuck’s going on?” I open my arms in front of me, trying to placate the very angry woman staring me down. A woman I’ve tried to find for eighteen fucking years. My mind is still not computing. She’s fucking here. Right here. She’s real, my heart rate picks up as I hone in on her beautiful face. She’s fucking here.
“Don’t do that, Kellen. Don’t pretend you don’t know.” She pokes her finger at me.
“I’m telling you I fucking don’t,” I say, exasperated.
She snorts in derision and looks around the room, now clear except for the band and family on their side. Xan, Mick, and Jase, Xan’s security, are the only ones on ours. I’m feeling very outnumbered. The Greystone brothers are all glaring daggers my way. Looking very happy about getting a few more punches in. I need to diffuse this real fast. But of course I don’t.
Jude says, “Right. Let's go. We don’t need to listen to his total fucking bullshit.”
I square up to him and shout, “I don’t fucking think so. This is between Evie, James, and me. You can keep the fuck out of it.” I give him a push for good measure. If he thinks he can intimidate me, he is so wrong.
At that, he punches me in the stomach and I swing for his face. Mick grabs him and Jackson grabs hold of me.
“Knock it off, the pair of you,” Jackson’s deep voice insists. “James, do you wanna stay, son?” he asks.
James casually looks over at me and then at his band mates. “Naw,” he drawls, “I’ve got a club to go to.”
“No, no, no.” I shake my head from side to side. “Let your band go and give me ten minutes.”
“Again with the orders, Kellen,” Evie snaps.
“Please,” I add, looking at her. “Please.”
“You’ve had eighteen years to consider this, and that’s all you’ve got? Ten fucking minutes,” Evie scoffs.
“What are you talking about? I’ve just found out a few minutes ago. I need to know what’s going on! I’ll take what I can get,” I shout at them all. They all practically sneer at me in unison. Intimidation tactics from the old days. Well they don’t work on me. They never did. Who the fuck do they think they are dealing with?
“Fuck off,” one of them laughs. “Dick!” As one, they all move towards the door.
“Just Evie then. Please. James, you go with your mates, we can meet up tomorrow. Evie, please stay and talk.” I’m trying not to beg. I look to Xan and Mick for inspiration.
“Ahhhh, the old stay and talk routine.” Her arms wrap around her body as if she’s holding herself together. “If only you’d have been happy to do that the two times I came to the London house to talk to you.” Her head drops, and my heart sinks into my boots. She pauses for a beat. I can see the emotion flashing across her face, she’s pulling herself together. Her eyes slowly rise to find mine and she locks on like a heat seeking missile. Hand outstretched towards me, index finger pointing. “For you to meet our son.” Her stance then widens, her chin lifting and her chest pushes outwards. The words punching at me one by one. “Not so happy to chat then, were you? Think it must have been because of your wife.” She looks over at Jackson, a snide expression on her lips. “What was it they said, Jackson? We’d have got in the way of love’s young dream. Mustn’t shatter the Russell Dream.” Her voice cracks when she hits me again with, “how inconvenient. A teenage tearaway and an illegitimate son. What would they say in Eastwood?”
“I don’t fucking care about Eastwood, you know that,” I growl at her.
“No,” she looks at me sadly, and I feel the ice around my heart crack open. “I don’t know. In fact, I don’t know you. I know you less now than I did then. I don’t know you and you don’t know us… at all.” With that, they all walk out, Jackson with his arm around my so-called son’s shoulders, talking quietly to him. The old green door to the dressing room slams shut and the silence is deafening.
No one says a thing. They all just look at me,
Finally Xan speaks. “They’ve not changed much. Still a fucking pack.”
“Not helpful, Xan. What the fuck do I do?” I look around, pleading for someone to think of something.
