CHAPTER 5
SAMUEL’S POV
The hot shower water cascaded over me, relieving the tension from consecutive shows and the intense night I had shared with Lily Thompson, my passionate fan. Steam enveloped the bathroom, creating a tranquil atmosphere conducive to reflection. The distant echo of festival music still reverberated in my mind.
As I turned off the shower, silence filled the space. I wrapped a towel around my waist and stepped out of the shower, the bathroom's humidity contrasting with the lingering warmth emanating from my body.
Entering the bedroom, I found the bed empty. Lily wasn't there. A mix of confusion and surprise coursed through my body. I began to frantically search the room for her, but there was no sign. Her absence echoed in the quietness, leaving me unsettled.
“Lily?” I called, my voice echoing in the empty space.
While scouring the floor for any clues, I found my clothes scattered, and among them, a tangible sign of her presence: her underwear. I held the intimate piece between my fingers, a physical reminder of the night we had shared. A smile traced my lips as I recalled the intense moments we had together.
Stashing the underwear in my pocket like a delicate and precious fragment, I felt comforted. However, unease persisted, lingering in the air along with the scent of the shower. Where had Lily gone? Had I scared her off, or did she have another commitment?
I decided to get dressed and seek answers outside the hotel room. As I put on my clothes, I reflected on the complexity of fleeting encounters that life offers. Lily was a vibrant and captivating presence, but her sudden absence left a peculiar void.
Leaving the room, the hotel corridor seemed endless. The silence of the early morning was interrupted only by the whispers of empty hallways. With determined steps, I headed to the reception, eager to find Lily and understand what was going on in her mind.
The receptionist, with a surprised and curious look, indicated that Lily had left the hotel a few minutes ago. My heart raced faster as I considered the possibilities. Had she left without saying goodbye, or was there something more at play?
I pondered this as I encountered the band members. John, the bassist, stared at me with a questioning look, as if the presence of an awake lead singer at such an early hour was unusual.
“What the hell are you doing awake at this hour at the reception?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.
I raised a tired look at him, my demeanor still carrying the memories of the night before. “I was looking for Lily.”
The other band members, Peter, the drummer, and Mike, the keyboardist, approached, curious. Peter, especially, seemed intrigued.
“Who's Lily?” he questioned while adjusting the strap of his bag.
“Lily is the girl who went to the after-party with us,” I replied, not providing many details.
John, with his characteristic mischievous smile, nudged Peter. “Ah, the excited fan. Did you two spend the night together?”
A nostalgic smile played on my lips as I remembered the intense moments shared with Lily. “Yes, but she left without saying goodbye.”
Peter raised an eyebrow, evidently intrigued. “Then why the hell are you looking for her? You should be grateful she disappeared. Fewer complications. You won't have to keep up the lie about Nashville.”
John nodded. “Exactly. That way, you won't need to make excuses to avoid a second encounter. Leave it as a one-night stand.”
Their advice made sense, and I agreed, although part of me wished things had taken a different turn. “You guys are right. Maybe it's better this way.”
It was when my phone vibrated, interrupting the conversation. A notification blinked on the screen: “Lunch with Mom.”
I showed the message to the guys. “Well, life goes on. Lunch with Mom awaits. At least she doesn't vanish without saying goodbye, even though I wish she would.”
Mike laughed. “Mom is always reliable. Never disappears after a wild night.”
With a final glance at the empty reception, I took the path out of the hotel, leaving behind the previous night. Now I needed to focus on another complicated woman—my mom.
The SUV cut through Chicago as I, along with the band members—Peter, Mike, and John—headed towards my home. The outside heat contrasted with the coolness of the air-conditioned vehicle.
I was already formulating an excuse in my mind for why I didn't attend lunch with my mom. In truth, I wasn't very keen on getting involved in family commitments at that moment, and the idea of facing an awkward moment with her wasn't something I was willing to confront.
I glanced at Peter, who was focused on driving, and casually asked, “Do you know of any bars open at this hour in Chicago?”
Peter briefly shifted his gaze, but curiosity got the better of him. “And what about lunch with your mom?”
I nodded, not too concerned. “She won't mind. I'm sure.”
John, in the back seat, excited about the idea, suggested, “Let's go to Calum, play some footy, and tear it up!”
A smile formed on my lips. “That's exactly what I need. Drink up and have a good time.”
The lively noise of the city mixed with the music playing on the SUV's radio as we headed to Calum. The carefree spirit of the night was contagious, and the idea of a carefree drinking spree without family commitments became increasingly appealing.
Upon arriving at the bar, the vibrant neon sign announced that we were about to enter a haven of loud music and uncompromised fun. The muffled sound of the live band already echoed through the streets. We couldn't wait to join the party.
At some point, between laughter and sips, I realized I had found the perfect escape for that morning. Calum was the place where worries dissolved. For now, we were just four musicians celebrating life, music, and friendship, while the city continued to pulse around us.
In the midst of the fun, I glanced at the clock. It was already late enough to make it to the commitment with my mom. I was grateful for the night of relaxation, for the temporary escape from responsibilities.
We decided to end the drinking spree, and the SUV awaited us outside. The fresh afternoon air hit me as we exited the bar. Peter, a bit tired, took over the wheel again. “I guess that's enough for today, huh?”
I agreed, a smile on my lips. “It was great, guys. Now, back to the real world.”
The SUV pulled away from Calum, leaving behind the music and laughter. I looked back, watching the neon lights of the bar fade away as we headed to my house. Despite the missed lunch, I had no regrets. Sometimes, spending time with friends and rock 'n' roll is all you need to escape life's shackles.
I was at the front door, excessively drunk, desperately trying to fit the key into the lock. My hands seemed to have a life of their own, and the resistance of the lock was becoming a lost battle. The door swung open abruptly, and there she was, with her flowing blonde hair and a black dress that betrayed all her anger. My mother's green eyes were locked on me, and the surrounding air seemed to freeze with her furious expression.
“Hello, Mom,” I released a feeble smile, in a futile attempt to ease the situation.
“Samuel Brown, you're completely drunk!” she exclaimed, her green eyes flashing. “Where have you been?”
I released a somewhat awkward smile. “Oh, just with the guys, playing, and stuff.”
She stared at me with an expression that said she knew more than I was willing to admit. “Don't play with me, Samuel. You were drinking with your friends, weren't you?”
I nodded, realizing she already knew everything. “Yes, there was an after-party after the show, nothing major.”
She huffed, clearly irritated. “Nothing major? You very well know we had lunch planned for today. Do you remember our agreement? I would secure a spot for your band to play at the Festival, and in return, you would come to have lunch with me. And today was the day you would finally meet Doug, my boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend?” I let out a bitter laugh. “More like the lover, isn't it?”
Her eyes sparkled with anger. “You're taking this too far, Samuel. I am being tolerant of your grieving.”
“Grieving? This isn't grief, Mom. This is the truth you try to avoid,” I retorted, recalling the scene I witnessed when I was only eight years old.
She stared at me, lips pressed in a thin line of irritation. “You're taking this too far, Samuel. I'm trying to move on, to be happy.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “Happy? Do you think being happy means dating the man you cheated on my father with? What kind of happiness is that, Mom?”
She took a deep breath, visibly annoyed. “That's none of your business, Samuel. I deserve to be happy, and Doug makes me happy.”
“Doug Thompson makes you happy, Mom?” I challenged, using his last name with a sarcastic tone. “It may be, but I'm sure neither of you deserves to be happy and never will, not by living this lie, being two traitors.”
“Enough, Samuel! I don't want to hear this anymore,” she cut me off, patience wearing thin.
“You don't want to hear it because it's the truth, isn't it? You'd rather live in a convenient lie.” My words were sharp, cutting like knives.
The argument took an unexpected turn when she revealed that the man, her lover, would no longer just be her boyfriend. The information hit me like a bomb, and I asked how that was possible.
“It's possible because Doug Thompson will be my husband starting tomorrow, whether you like it or not,” she declared, her decision final.
“Are you kidding me?” My incredulity echoed in the room.
“No, Samuel, I'm not. He will be part of the family from now on, and you need to accept it,” she was firm in her words.
The man who destroyed my home would now be my stepfather. How could I accept that?
“Do you really think I'm going to accept this man as my stepfather?” My voice echoed, filled with challenges.
Samantha stared at me, her expression revealing a mix of sadness and firmness. “Samuel, this is my decision, and I hope you simply understand.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “Understand? How could I understand, Mom? Dad died just six months ago, and you're ready to bring this guy into our home?”
She sighed deeply. “You need to understand that life goes on, Samuel. Doug is an important part of my life now.”
“Life goes on? Dad has barely been buried, and you're ready to replace him with your lover.” My indignation overflowed.
“Samuel, stop calling Doug a lover.” She cut me off, firm. “He will be my husband.”
I stared at her, determined. “I won't stop, Mom. Over my dead body will this guy be my stepfather? I will do everything to stop this marriage, Mom. You can be sure of that.”
I decided to take action. I headed to the sideboard, grabbed Samantha's car keys, and walked towards the door. She followed me with her gaze, questioning my intentions.
“Where are you going?” She asked, with a tone of concern in her voice.
“None of your business,” I replied, keeping my gaze firm. I left the house with the certainty that Doug Thompson would pay for what he did to my family, and I already knew where to start.