3 Chapter 3: Coming Home

CLOVER'S POV:

Waiting for me when I make my way through the arrivals terminal is my mother's assistant, Jasper. If anyone knows how mental my parents are, it's him.

You wouldn't know it from the benign look on his face as he waits for me though. From that expression, you'd think that today was just any other day. And maybe it is.

Maybe I've just forgotten how ridiculous things get because I've been away for nine long months. Nine months of no parents, no expectations. Just me and my guitar.

Maybe I'm the only one in complete shock at my parents utter audacity.

They seriously can't expect this to work, can they?

Except knowing my parents, of course they expect this to work. They are about as obnoxious as it's possible to be.

I love them to bits, but they really have no concept of reality. Then again why would they? Their lives have been a dream. They've had it all. Fame. Fortune. A fairy tale love story.

"They aren't serious?" I ask as soon as I reach him.

He takes my case from me before answering. He's just trying to buy time to school his face into hiding his amusement. He's been working with my mum for decades so for him, it really is just a usual day at the office. It's not like this is the most absurd request he's ever received from her.

"As serious as a heart attack," he says as he drops his hand to my shoulder, patting it gently.

Jasper has been more of a parent to me and Creed than either of our real parents. Whenever they went on tour, it had been Jasper that took care of us. It was Jasper that helped us with our homework growing up. It was Jasper who took us to school and who attended our parent teacher conferences.

I nod my head because as angry as I am with my parents, it's not Jasper's fault.

"I've got a stylist waiting in the car," he tells me. "She's going to get you ready on the way. We haven't got much time."

Again, I'm nodding my head mutely because I'm at a complete loss for what else I'm supposed to do.

My parents expect me just to go along with this so what else can I do?

"Is my brother okay?" I ask as I follow Jasper out of the airport, towards the place where the limo is waiting. I wish I could tell him to take me to the hospital to see Creed rather than to go to the concert.

"He's still in surgery."

He glances my way and I see concern in his eyes. Opening the door for me, he offers me a sad smile.

"I know that this probably all seems a bit crazy," he says softly, "but remember this is your brother's dream."

Those words catch me. My parents might have asked me to do something completely ridiculous but actually this isn't for them. Not really. Sure, they're doing it, so they don't lose coinage. They don't want to have to return the ticket money. I get it. But I won't do it for them. I'll do it for my brother. It's for Creed.

"Okay," I reply. "I'll do it but I'm not cutting off my hair."

There's no way in hell I'm cutting my hair. Not for my mum. Not for my dad. Not for the f*king label. Not for Saving Creed. Not even for my brother.

That gets a chuckle from Jasper.

"Don't worry. Crimson has a wig for you."

He nods his head towards the car.

I breathe in deeply before climbing into the backseat of the limo. Maybe insanity runs in the family. I'm clearly losing my marbles if I'm agreeing to do this. I nod my head at the stylist that's now sat opposite me.

"Wow," she whistles, "you really do look just like Creed."

"Except the colour of our eyes," I say absent-mindedly.

Creed's eyes are a deep blue, almost cobalt. Growing up I'd been jealous as hell of those eyes. As pretty as mine are, they can't compare. I don't actually know what colour my eyes are, if I'm honest. They're neither blue or green or grey. They change depending on the lighting and my clothes. I suppose they're more green than anything else.

"I've got you a blue shirt," Crimson says. "It should bring out the blue in your eyes."

She's quiet as she holds up the shirt in front of me.

"If worse comes to worse, I also have contacts."

I'm nodding my head again. This is why I don't want to be here. Whenever I'm around my family, I find myself jumping through hoops just so they're expectations are met, their dreams are kept.

You're doing this for Creed, I tell myself again. It's all for Creed.

"We need to put this on your head," she says as she flings what appears to be a swim cap at me. She must realise I'm not impressed because she says, "it's the only way to save your hair."

The idea of hiding my rose gold curls under a wig causes me to pout. It's for Creed. You can do it for Creed.

You owe him, I remind myself. You have to protect his dream.

Crimson leans towards me as she begins to plaster my face in stage makeup. I should be grateful she's not overly talkative.

"Who knows?" I ask Jasper.

"Knows?"

"That I'm back... about Creed... everything."

"Your parents, me, Crimson, Saving Creed's manager and you."

It's a relief that the list isn't crazy long. As if this isn't embarrassing enough, the idea of the band knowing would be too much to bear.

"Good," I reply, "let's keep it that way. That's my second condition."

"I didn't realise we were negotiating," Jasper retorts good humouredly.

"Everything in life is a negotiation."

"If you're negotiating, you should do it properly."

"Properly?"

"You could ask for an extension on your gap year," he suggests, "or you could demand that you won't sign with the label."

Ironically, like a fool I haven't even considered placing those sorts of demands. The reality is that I don't want to gamble with my brother's dream.

When Your Life Is Full Of Boring Bills And Dishes Lyrics

Day one, I wash my face

I go to work, I stay late, overtime

I cook, I wash the dishes

I sleep, This life is mundane

My guitar is dusting over in the corner

There's no living when you're skint

All I want to do is drink beer with you

And sing this song for you to hear

But instead I'm falling apart

Day two, I wake up late

Rushing around, going to work late again

I eat on the go

I don't see your face once

My piano goes unplayed for another night

There's no living when you're skint

All I want to do is drink beer with you

And sing this song for you to hear

But instead I'm falling apart

Day three, life's on repeat

I think I'm coming down with a cold

But I can't stop, need to work

Living in my overdraft

At this rate I'll forget how to sing

There's no living when you're skint

All I want to do is drink beer with you

And sing this song for you to hear

But instead I'm falling apart

Day four, wake up early

Go to work, stay late

I need the money to pay the bills

Need to at least cover the rent

Music is my life

But there's no living when you're skint

All I want to do is drink beer with you

And sing this song for you to hear

But instead I'm falling apart

Day five, finally finished with work

The weekend is on its way

I'll be able to live

Even if its just for two days

The song is calling my name

There's no living when you're skint

All I want to do is drink beer with you

But instead I'm falling apart

Day six, goes too fast

We sing, we live, we play

For one day I forget

And it's the perfect day

Me and you and my guitar

But there's no living when you're skint

All I want to do is drink beer with you

But instead I'm falling apart

Day seven, trying to ignore

I'll be back at work tomorrow

This reprieve isn't real

Love is only for the weekend

Music is only for the weekend

Coz, there's no living when you're skint

All I want to do is drink beer with you

But instead I'm falling apart

There's nothing in this world that makes me smile like you do

But you'll never look at me and my guitar

Because I'm just a skint musician

I could tell you you're my muse but what would that do

I'd still have to pay the bills and wash the dishes

Because I'm just a skint musician