I shook my head. “No, his name is Carl, but I like calling him Alfred better.” Anna shook her head. She hadn’t been thrilled when I’d kept the butler on, but come on…a freaking butler? Hell yeah, he was staying.
When we were on our third beer and looking into the fifth bathroom, Mom apparently decided it was time to have a heart-to-heart. “So…your Uncle Billy came over the other night. He told me about how you and Matt had a blowout before you left Seattle. Want to tell me what happened?”
With a sniff, I shook my head. “Not much to tell. I told him I was quitting, he called me an asshole, said I was dead to him and that we weren’t family anymore.” I took a swig of beer. “Oh, and he told me the band was better off without me.” Prick.
Mom took a pull off her beer. Everyone was oohing and aahing over the Jacuzzi, but her eyes never left mine. “Was that before or after you slugged him?” she asked.
I looked over at her with a sigh. “Honestly, I don’t remember. But either way, the jerk was asking for my fist in his lip.”
“I’m sure he was.” She let out a long exhale. “Hancock men are proud, self-absorbed creatures. But lovable, once you look beneath that.”
Wondering if she was insulting me or complimenting me, I stayed quiet. She smiled as she looked from me to Dad. “Gregory and Billy used to fight like cats and dogs. Worse than cats and dogs. Someone was always coming home with black eyes and statements that they never wanted to see so-and-so again. Then time passed and they got over whatever the fight had been about, and all of a sudden, they’d be best friends again.” Her eyes returned to mine. “You and Matt have always mirrored the two of them. You’ll get past this and be fine. Don’t you worry, honey.”
I bristled at her comment. “I wasn’t worried. If he wants to miss out on being a part of my life, then it’s his loss.” A knot of something dark and ugly twisted in my stomach as I thought of our rift being permanent, but I pushed it aside.
Mom gave me a sad smile, then patted my back. “Of course, dear.”
Two weeks later, I was still filming the same damn episode. If I thought rehearsing the same songs with the guys over and over was bad, acting out scenes was even worse! We did the same section over and over and over. My brain was frying from the monotony, and I couldn’t understand why the camera dude needed a shot of me saying, “Sure, Crash, whatever you say,” fifteen thousand times. It was ridiculous.
And the rest of the cast. Don’t even get me started on them. There was always something wrong with one of them. Someone was hungover, someone couldn’t remember their lines, someone was mad at someone, someone was late. It was one fucking thing after another, and all any of it did was make the day even slower. And since I was typically the one who’d goofed off in the past, being forced to be the studious one was a shock to the system.
But as much of an annoyance as the cast was, their squabbles were nothing compared to the chaos going on behind the scenes. Between the writers, the directors, and the studio execs, someone always had a problem with what we were doing. It seemed like every other hour I was handed a revised script. Remembering what I was supposed to remember and what I was supposed to forget gave new meaning to the word “frustration.” At this rate, I didn’t see how we’d ever finish filming one episode, let alone the six that LMF had ordered.
And if we didn’t finish the six episodes, then we’d never get picked up for a full season and I’d never see a decent paycheck. I didn’t want to worry about it, because I wasn’t one to worry about cash, but it was starting to eat at me. I’d asked Anna to trust me…I needed to deliver on that.
After spending most of the day doing nothing more than being filmed pretending to play a song on the stage, I was drained. While my driver took me home, I pulled out my cell phone and stared at it.
The album was dropping today.
Matt was probably in full-on freak-out mode. Nervous, sweating bullets, anxiously skimming for early reviews. He took it all so seriously, like he was personally being judged. Dude needed to relax before he worked himself into an early grave. Maybe being married would help. I should call and find out when the wedding was. Evan’s too. Even though there was crap between us right now, surely I was still on the invite list.
Making a split-second decision, I found Matt’s name in my phone and called his cell. It didn’t even ring, it just went straight to voicemail. Weird. Maybe his phone was dead. Not wanting to leave a message, I disconnected and called someone else instead. He actually picked up.
“Evan, dude…what’s up?”
There was a long pause before he said anything, and when he did, it was just my name. “Griffin.” From the way he said it, I couldn’t tell if it was a statement or a curse.
“Uh, yeah.” Tilting my head, I wondered if he had a problem with me too. Well, if he did, it was reciprocated; he never said goodbye to me. Since it was fresh in my mind, I asked him about it. “Why didn’t you see me off at the airport? Kell did.”
“I guess Kellan is a bigger man than I am.” Evan let out a long exhale, then started in on me. “What the hell are you thinking, Griffin? You quit the band for a TV show? One that might or might not actually go anywhere? Are you nuts?” I opened my mouth to answer him, but he plowed right over me before I could. “And what the hell happened between you and Matt? You know the real reason why I didn’t show? Matt dropped by after you decked him, and I spent the next three days calming him down.”