52
Ruby
Playingto Blue Phoenix stadium venues is a different experience to small clubs. The intimacy between the crowd and band is missing, especially as most are here to see the Blue Phoenix boys and not us. People hang out at the bar for drinks before Phoenix perform, leaving the floor of the venue half-empty when we open. Jax is put out by this the first time, but the other perks of touring with the guys soon make up for that. With three out of four of the band in a relationship, it doesn’t take much charm from Jax or the brothers to hook up after each gig if they want to.
Some nights I loiter at the edge of the stage and watch Blue Phoenix play close up, caught in my old passion for their music. One now replaced with the passion I have for the lead guitarist. Jem never notices, he behaves like I do when on stage; lost in his place of sound and colour, occasionally interacting with Dylan or playing the crowd.
I cast a look over the screaming girls at the front; it’s weird witnessing adulation of the guys by others at such close quarter. Fans swarm outside every hotel and airport—most often, we duck out the back but Jax “somehow” tends to get lost and find himself mid-fans and media.
Blue Phoenix encore done, I head back to the Green Room—one where the backstage offerings from the venue are more than a single six pack and the bags of crisps supplied to Ruby Riot on their UK club circuit.
“You swearing off alcohol again?” asks Jax when I refuse a post-gig beer.
“Yeah.” I glance over at Jem who’s chatting to Dylan. Jem and Dylan appear closer, the strong friendship he mentioned clearer. But I’m worried why he hasn’t confided in Dylan about the baby yet. I passed Bryn, outside the room, talking intently to somebody on the phone. Liam ducks his head around the door to tell us he’s leaving to see Cerys.
“So much for the famous Blue Phoenix party animals,” complains Jax and takes a beer from the counter.
“I think they’re too old for that shit now,” I say.
“Twenty-six? Fuck, I hope I’m not old and boring then,” he says and grimaces.
Jem sits next to me, places his feet on the table and drapes an arm across my shoulder. “Who’s too old?”
“You guys. Behaving like old men,” says Jax. “Yeah, I get that you don’t drink, but we could at least party a bit more.”
“Kinda burnt out, Jax,” says Jem. “You’re welcome to have your own parties. Just don’t get into a life where a doctor tells you to stop or you’ll be dead before you’re thirty.”
I grip Jem’s hand. Was he told that? “Thanks, Dad,” says Jax with a laugh.
Jem tips his head at me. “Did you tell—”
Eyes widening, I shake my head vigorously. “He means you’re behaving like a dad, Jem.”
Jax doesn’t miss a beat. “What did you say?”
“Nothing,” says Jem in a short tone.
Bryn wanders into the room, humming, and grabs the unopened beer from Jax’s hand. “Cheers, mate.”
Jax doesn’t respond. I can practically see his brain whirring as he looks between us.
“How’re you feeling now, Ruby?” Bryn asks. “Still sick?”
Nice timing.
“A little better,” I mumble.
“Sick in the mornings and better in the evenings, huh?” He sits in the armchair next to Jem and leans forward to poke him. “Something you want to tell us?”
“No,” Jem retorts.
I stand and tuck my trembling hands under my arms. “I’m tired, Jem. Let’s go.”
Bryn sinks back and watches as Jem stands too. “I always know when you’re hiding a secret, Jeremy.”
“Shut up,” he warns.
Jem’s doing it again—the protective arm around my shoulder, fingers rubbing my neck. We’re a tactile couple now we’ve allowed ourselves, but this kind of touch is more proprietary, and annoys me. I duck from under his arm.