Overdue - A Rockstar Romance

Chapter 1 - Elliott (One year ago)

I groaned and ran a hand through my hair, gazing at the bloodshot eyes of my reflection. This was not good. Not good at all.

I guess the media was finally right. Call a guy a bad boy long enough they can't help but become one. "Five minutes." Someone called out in the hall.

"Shiiiit." I stumbled towards the bathroom, splashing my face with cold water, single-handedly destroying the handiwork of three make-up girls, a hairdresser and my stylist.

"You ready dude?" Erik, my best mate and drummer in our band marched in without knocking.

I turned to him and he took in the smeared eye liner before kicking the door closed behind him. "Down this," he chucked me a bottle of water, "this is the last time I'm saving your ass."

"I'm sorry man." I slurred, unable to hide the effects of the various spirits I had drunk in the last hour.

"You always are." He muttered grabbing a wipe from the side and setting to work cleaning the smears of make-up and making me look presentable.

I gulped the water gratefully and for the first time in a long while contemplated how far we had come.

From messing around in Kyle's Dad's garage to becoming pop rock icons at the age of nineteen. It was every teenage boy's dream. Discovered by a couple of girls who had just started their own record label and propelled into the spotlight by their killer social media strategy. We went viral just over a year later, a week before the release of our first album. The album that launched our career.

No one expected a squeaky-clean image from us, but I was pretty sure the parents of our millions of teenage girl fans wouldn't be too impressed to know that I had been drunk at more than half of my recent performances.

"I've got a problem." I whispered.

"No shit Sherlock." Erik snapped as he stood back to admire his handiwork.

He tilted my head side to side and then grabbed my upper arms "Two more performances dude. Two." He shook my shoulders as if he could somehow shake the stupid out of me. "Finish the tour and then we are getting you help."

"I don't-"

"Yes you do." He ignored my feeble attempt at a protest, grabbing a pair of sunglasses and thrusting them at me.

"I'm sorry man." I took them and glanced at the mirror.

The person that looked back at me was not the guy I wanted to be. Despite the buzz of alcohol in my system numbing me to the world, I knew something needed to change. I opened my mouth to apologise again. "Outlaws you're up." The voice from the hall hollered again.

"Showtime brother." Erik said with a wry smile, "You going to be ok?"

I nodded, "Let's do this."

We made for the stage, grabbing bandmates on the way. "You look like shit." Kyle said glancing at my face.

I rolled my eyes and put the sunglasses on, "Better?"

Kyle wasn't exactly the picture of perfect himself, his skin too pale and floppy hair falling over his eyes in an attempt to hide from the world. There was no chance I was bringing that up though with minutes to our next performance. Considering I wasn't at my best, I couldn't risk anyone else in the band being off their game.

"He going to be ok?" Kyle asked Erik, ignoring my response.

"Yeah, man. Two more shows and we can get it sorted properly." Erik replied, grabbing at set of drumsticks from his back pocket and twirling them round his fingers in his customary warm up.

"I'm right here." I snapped.

"Is he drunk again?" Chris bounced up doing up his flies.

I didn't need three guesses to know where he had been. Those giggling groupies earlier had been all over us and serial womaniser Chris was more than happy to oblige their rockstar romance fantasies, for a couple of hours at least.

With his cropped black curly hair and muscular arms, he was easily the most popular of us with the fans, but we didn't mind. Although we had teased him relentlessly when he won the award for "Heart Melting Music Hero" in magazine adored by teenage girls.

"I'm still standing here." I said through gritted teeth as the others continued to get ready.

Anger bubbled in my veins, heightened by rum. Now I thought about it, probably shouldn't have mixed my drinks either. "Chill man, two shows." Erik reminded me clapping a hand on my shoulder.

I could hear the crowd now. Their shouts and screams pulling me from the mood that was building.

The opening band had done a good job warming them up for us. "I don't think they can hear you...who do you want?" Dec, front man of Galaxy, feigned sadness as he held out the microphone for their response.

"True Outlaws! True Outlaws!" the chant built.

"You've been amazing, we've been Galaxy and now it's time for the main event. Enjoy!"

Dec and the band took a bow and waved as they ran off the stage. He handed me the microphone, as soon as he reached us and I had to grip it with both hands thanks to the light sweat on my palms. The familiar weight of it soothed me and I let out a small sigh of relief.

"Thanks for warming them up for us," I winked at him before remembering I was wearing sunglasses, "You smashed it."

Dec grinned, "Thanks man, they're amazing out there tonight."

I swallowed down the sickness that rose in my throat, and fist bumped him. I couldn't disappoint the fans.

Flicking the switch on the side of the microphone, I held it to my lips. "Manchester, are you ready for us." My voice took on that dark seductive tone I loved using on stage.

The screams that followed demonstrated why as the crowd went wild.

Erik grinned and leaned into to the microphone, "I think that's a yes."

The crowd reached fever pitch and I watched as multiple sets of underwear rained down on the stage. I knew the parents of the fans throwing those would be horrified and somehow that made it even funnier.

"Watch out tonight lads, they said there was the chance it might get wet." Chris whispered into the microphone.

You guys are such teases," Kyle laughed as the crowd lost it.

"Let's do this!" I bounced twice on the balls of my feet and then ran on, not needing to look round to know the others had followed, making a beeline for their instruments and spots.

My spotlight hit and tracked my path across the stage. I stumbled, my balance compromised by the booze but turned it into a knee slide which had two girls in the front row sobbing.

It wasn't the reaction I usually liked a girl to have but it was becoming surprisingly common.

I heard Erik tap his sticks together over the roar of the crowd, the third tap and I opened my mouth, launching into Lucky Girl, a fan favourite.

This was where I belonged.