Thick as Thieves (The Greystone Family: Stolen Hearts #3)

Chapter 12

12

Xander

Brazil

I get myself under some semblance of control and follow Marcus out of the room. I feel buzzed, the high like nothing I’ve felt before.

She didn’t freak out and punch Marcus or me. I know she dashed out, but there were no tearful recriminations, no shouting or screaming. And there would’ve been. She’s not shy about telling us if she isn’t happy. We’ve been on the wrong end of that before. I just have to hope there’s no delayed reaction. That she doesn’t retreat into herself, or just away from me. I couldn’t bear it.

All this is running through my head as I exit the bedroom, looking for Kitten. But the first person I see is James. Staring at me like he’s going to kill me. Fuck, what’s up with him? Does he think I’ve done something to his mother?

I pick up Sorley out of his crib and head towards the balcony with him. Thank God for these babies, they’re a brilliant distraction.

Evie has Lochi and is moving towards the balcony, so I follow her out. The air is more humid outside than in with the air con. Not the best place to feed the twins, but the view of the beach is spectacular. There’s a parade going on down the road and you can hear the drums, even up here.

James follows us both out onto the balcony. “Shall I take him for a minute, Mum, so you can get a drink and set up?” He puts his arms out for Lochi, and smiles at the boy who looks just like him, but with different coloured eyes. Her eyes.

“They look like you James, poor little souls,” I say to both Evie and James. They smile at me, and fuck me, both Evie and James have the same smile. It lights up their eyes, and transforms James to more like Evie. No wonder Marcus struggles to deal with the boy if he’s hit with that everyday.

“Thanks, James. I am thirsty.” She kisses him and walks back inside, closing the doors.

I say nothing at first to see if he does, keeping my eyes fixed firmly on the baby in my arms. Then I remember he is a Greystone, masters of tactics. Oh, fuck it. I lift my eyes to his and go for broke.

“Spit it out, James. I can see your cogs whirring, but your mouth’s staying shut.”

He turns his intense eyes on me, so like Marcus it’s weird to see at times. Even though the stare is intense I’m not getting hostile vibes from him. Not at the minute anyhow.

“Uncle Jonno calls you fuckheads, did you know?”

His voice is mild. I’ve heard this tone before. In LA, when he was pissed at Marcus, and again in London. Evie used it just before all hell ripped loose in London and she ditched us and the Greystones. It never spells good news. I am on full alert.

“Yeah, he calls it to us directly. He’s not bothered about upsetting us.” I grin, trying to keep the mood light, applying my usual distraction techniques. Trying to telegraph everything I can’t get out. My body and mind are screaming at him.

He smiles at that. “Good, because what I’m going to say to you might be in that category.”

Fucking no way. He’s going to tell me to keep the fuck away from his mother. My panic is gripping my stomach. My breathing picking up.

“James, look?—”

He holds his hand up to me and I have a vision of him doing the same to Gabe last year. Oh My God. No, No, No, Please don’t say it. I’m looking at him, my heart pounding in my chest, my eyes pleading with him not to ask me to give them up before I’ve even had a chance to love them like I want to.

But then he smiles, and it’s as if the sun has just come from behind the clouds. “Ye of little faith. Really Uncle Xan? Or should I call you Papa now?” He stops and is intently regarding me, so like Jonno, gauging my reactions. “I can hardly call you Dad or Daddy, don’t you think?”

My brain is totally fried. I look at this kid, this utterly amazing kid, who even though I only met him a year ago, I feel like he is part of me. I’m speechless.

“A word of advice, though. Ask. Don’t fuck around and don’t let my dad have any great ideas, he has none. Just ask her. She’ll say yes or no, and then you’ll know once and for all.” He stands tall, managing to be imposing even with a baby in his arms. “I support her in whatever decision she makes, one hundred percent. I know you love her, are in love with her, and I know Dad loves her. But, please, for all your sakes, just ask her. Don’t plot, don’t plan. Ask .”

He pulls me in for a hug. Well, as best he can with us both holding babies. “I’ll tell my idiot father the same.” His voice changes from a little jokey to completely serious. “But you need to be sure, because she’ll get all the shit, not you two. You know how these things go.” Concern is etched on his face, but it’s concern for his mum, not himself. “So please be really sure. No messing around.” He whispers that last bit in my ear before pushing back and kissing me on the cheek.

“See, easy Papa, wasn’t it, when you communicate.” Grinning, he looks down at the baby in his arms. “Be sure for these two as well.”

And with that, he walks back into the suite, taking one of my sons with him.

Marcus has been watching us, and as I wipe away a tear from my eye, he gets a full panic on his face. He looks at James in horror and the little shit blows him a kiss. Walking up to him, James pulls his dad in for a hug, manoeuvring the baby between them. I can see his lips moving. Clearly Marcus is getting the same pep talk.

Two grown men, humbled by a nineteen-year-old kid, who I think has led a sheltered life in some ways but a worldly one in others.

Can this really happen?

I hear a whimper and look down at the boy in my arms, his eyes so like Evie’s, I melt on the spot. I have to be sure. These innocents could get hurt by me, my wants and desires. But I am a man in love, totally and utterly in love, and I know I will protect them until my last breath.

Tim knocks on our door with Nev and Debs in tow. They’re followed in by Bucky, Fin, and Nicci. Marcus and I are seated with James, and I see Evie’s lip curl at Debs and Nev as she gives the twins to Betty. Oh, boy. Blood may be spilt at this rate. She crosses to sit with Bucky and I see him take her hand.

Tim starts the conversation. “James, you asked everyone here. What’s going on?”

”Before we start anything, I need you to know, Tim, that we as a band love the touring. We love the music we’re playing, and I’ve spoken to the finance guys and they’ve told me the numbers look really good.”

I can’t hide my smirk. Only James would be armed with details like that. If Nev thinks he’s dealing with a normal nineteen-year-old, he is going to find out really fast, he isn’t.

“But,” he goes on, “I don’t like the shit that’s being posted about Bucky and Nicci. I also don’t see why I’m being portrayed as a dumb as shit model type, and Fin as some drunk. Every photo of him has a drink in it. We’re not ‘bad boys’, we don't have to trade off that. It’s not a strategy that came up at the meetings about this tour. As far as we knew, we were seeing how the music played out. Fair enough, I’ll rip off my shirt, but it’s fucking hot. I like the eyeliner.” He smirks at the lads at that. “But if I want to cut my hair, I will. And I do not want to be photographed at this stage in some fucking uber ridiculous outfit for the sake of ‘fashion’.”

He then turns to Bucky. “Do you want to say anything, Bucky, or shall I go on?”

“No, I’ll speak for myself, brother.” Bucky, normally jokey and impassive, turns his dark eyes onto Debs. His glare could cut glass. His voice nearly a growl. “I’m not some fuck-up. And fair enough, I like to let off steam in clubs and am up for a laugh. But for you to film me out of my mind and post it? That shit ain’t right. You’re supposed to be supporting us, not exploiting us.”

“Same for me,” Fin piles on. “My mother thinks I’m an alky thanks to your posting, Debs. Can you stop? Post some good shots, maybe of me playing my guitar. At least I won’t have a drink in my hand then.”

“I’ve fucked up, I know,” Nicci offers. “I’ll try to be better.” He then sits back.

Then the big guns start. “Are you the manager?” Evie asks Nev. “Who appointed you? I thought it was Cameron.” She looks at Tim. “We agreed and signed off on Cam.” I smile inwardly at the intensity she’s hitting Tim and his team with.

“We appointed Nev for the tour, as Cameron’s wife was ill, but he’s overseeing stuff from the UK.”

“So he’s agreed to all this crap?” she raps out at Tim.

“No,” says Tim calmly, shaking his head. “Nev, do you want to run us through your thoughts and strategy for the band and tour, and what was authorised?”

Nev is now looking very uncomfortable with the lads and Evie staring daggers at him. “The label wants headlines. Half the antics have been real, a few we’ve manufactured, but most are real.”

James snorts.

“James, you’ve been in this business two minutes. I’ve been around for years. You need to cultivate interest.” Nev is trying to impress wisdom into the young lads.

“Are we not interesting enough, then?” He stands, turning to face Nev down now. “My Dads are here.” He points to us both. Spinning round, he points at Evie. “My mother is the mother of twins to a fucking rock star.” And then he goes on, “We hardly need to manufacture headlines. If you did your jobs, you could utilise all that. It’s all out there already.” He smirks at Bucky, his hands on his hips. “And to top it off, we have Marshall and we own Pinky the fucking pony, who has more followers than you, Dad.” The lads all start to laugh.

“Sign that pony up, Tim,” I tell him, grinning at them all.

“When you say the label wants headlines,” jumps in Marcus, calmly “who at the label are we talking about?” He sits back, waiting for them to fall into his trap. He’s steaming already, I can see it, but Nev and Co won’t. Not yet.

“Candy in the PR department,” states Debs confidently.

“So Candy’s in charge, is she?” I ask Nev. “Were you in the meetings about the band's strategy?” I ask him and he nods.

“So in that meeting,” Marcus lasers in on Debs and Nev, his voice glacial, “did they tell you to drug my son up and film him?”

They both look at James. “We haven’t done that to James,” Deb says, as if that makes it alright.

“I wasn’t talking about that son, I’m talking about Bucky.” They look around at each other, confused now. “Yes,” Marcus snarls, dropping all pretence now. “He is my son, both of them are, so you better get onto ‘the label’ and sort it now. At no point in any conversation was it decided they would be packaged as a bad boy band, they don’t fucking need it. So stop with the manufacturing of shit.”

“If Cameron’s not up to this, we need a new manager,” Evie adds. “One who can be here and work with these boys. Otherwise you’re in breach of contract, and I will sue, loudly, for coercion, and anything else I can think of.” She looks directly at Nev, who’s starting to wilt.

Tim looks at us, and we shrug. “She can, Tim. They can,” I confirm.

“Who are you reporting to, Nev?” Tim asks. “Candy, and I assume Brian.”

“Is Brian the one we had issues with ‘Vanity’ about not being right?” I ask Tim. When he nods, I stand up and raise my voice. “Get him the fuck out, then. We don’t want people who are happy to exploit on the regular and badge it as ‘the label’.”

I see the penny dropping for Nev, about who is ultimately in charge here.

“You should be watching out for all the boys, not just James,” Evie seethes. “They’re a band, not just Marcus’s sons. There should be no distinction.” She’s holding onto Nicci, a mother hen in all her protective glory. “Nicci, if you can’t get off the shit, you’re going to rehab,” she says.

He gulps. “I’ll stop, Momma G, I swear.”

“Finton, put the drink down. I am not fielding calls from your mother.”

“Yes Momma G,” Fin agrees and nods.

“Bucky.” He nods at her and James blows her a kiss. She raises her brows at him before turning on the sufficiently cowed label reps. “Nev, if you don’t agree with the strategy, you can go home. Same for you Debs. No hard feelings, but my boys’”—and she gestures to all of them—“welfare is the most important thing, not sales numbers.”

She stands and says to Marcus and me. “Look after my sons, I’m off to feed the other two,” and she leaves.

I’m still standing and make sure to make eye contact with each of them before I say, “I think that just about covers it. Are we clear Nev, Debs?” They both nod. “Any issues, speak to James. Tim, anything else from you?”

“No, but Nev, if you’re asked to do something that has not been discussed in a meeting with the band, let me know.” Nev nods, grateful to still have a job at this point.

I can feel Debs is fuming. She can’t keep it in. “I don’t actually see how what we did was wrong. The numbers are up, mainly due to all the antics I manufactured.” She’s practically preening, expecting us to be fucking grateful.

Marcus pins her with a glare that could freeze the coals in a sauna. “Did we ask you to do that?”

Debs really thinks she’s in charge. “With respect, Marcus, you are in a band, not a manager or label person.”

I look over and smirk at Tim. Debs is about to really step in it, and I am here for the show.

“Really, Debs,” Marcus drawls, his voice deceptively calm. Lord Stockton, growling out with the polite veneer only just containing his anger. “Well just so you know, I have a lot of sway, and I can safely say this is your last working day. Get your shit together and we’ll sort you a ride home. My sons are not for sale at any price, and it was not your antics that moved the numbers. The sales are from before the tour in South America. It was from the UK and Europe, which I believe is before you came on board.”

“You can’t do that,” she spits out.

“I can and I have. Now, get out. I won’t stand for exploitation. You should have said no, not put young lads in situations they can hardly handle and then fucking film them.” He stands and looks at her in full-on Daddy mode. “Get your stuff together, you'll be on a plane within the hour.”

Mick and Zak walk in and gesture to the door. Debs's eyes go wide, as the penny finally drops as to who is making the decisions. Hanging her head in defeat, she plods towards them.

The boys all get a group hug going, reassuring each other that they’ve got each other’s backs. “We got a show to do tonight, let’s go do it,” James says.

As they all file out, James breaks off and comes and shakes Tim’s hand. But Tim pulls him in for a bro hug. “Asked finance about the numbers,” Tim says to him, grinning.

“Always prepared, Tim.” He then moves to Marcus and says, “Love you, Dad,” and kisses him. He then moves to me and says, “Love you, Papa,” kissing me just as Evie comes back in with Sorley, Betty in tow with Lochi.

Evie goes pale and looks sharply at James.

Betty looks sour as Marcus comes for Evie.

“All sorted, Kitten. You can put your claws away.” He laughs, kissing the boy she holds then her, and takes Lochi from the nanny. “I feared the crop more than the suing,” he says to her.

“You liar. You love the crop,” she tells him.

“Bring it tonight,” he coaxes her as if no one else is in the room.

“Don’t, Kitten,” I warn her. “He’ll not be able to sing. He can’t concentrate on two things at once.” We’re all laughing at him, as he looks put out.

“Fuck off, the lot of you. I want sex before our show.”

Betty has gone bright red and is staring at Evie.

“Well, you’ll have to wait, because these come first.” She hands me Sorley. “Go sort yourselves out,” she grins at everyone.

“I’m always last on the list,” he grumbles at her. But I can see the smile in his eyes. He fucking loves it—the family, the banter. As do I.

“Well you are certainly behind these two at the minute.”

She moves off into the bedroom to collect the twins’ night gear, leaving the nanny standing in the living area with Marcus and myself.

Betty inches closer to Marcus. “You should be first on the list, Kellen,” she says to him coyly, smirking at me.

Oh dear, Betty is treading a thin line. I raise my brows to Marcus.

“What did you say?” asks Marcus, his tone conversational.

“I said you should be first as you are the most important person here,” she repeats, trying to be demure. She’s failing.

“My name’s Marcus, and no, the most important person in your life is Evie, and the children, all four of them.” His tone has gone from conversational to ice cold.

She’s obviously feeling brave as she goes on, “I thought you were known as Kellen. I hear Evie and Xander call it you, and Marshall at home.” She’s obviously desperate, and she's definitely not bothering to read the room.

“Yes, to them I am, but not to you. I’m Marcus, so don’t forget it,” he deadpans at her. His tone is absolutely cold. His eyes like green chips of ice.

Her eyes widen as she realises her mistake. She’s never seen this Marcus before. She’s only ever seen Kellen as he’s always around Evie. She’s never met Marcus Russell rockstar arsehole. I can see she’s shocked at the change in him.

“I’m sorry. Of course. I didn’t realise it was a family thing.” Stammering out her apology, her face is red with embarrassment.

“Well now you do so….” He hands her Lochi. “Tim, a word on the balcony.”

He moves to talk to Tim, who has just come back into the room, and I’m left with Betty and the kids. She looks me up and down. “What should I call you?” she asks sarcastically, her lip curled in disdain. Her bravado is returning as she tries to regain her lost ground.

“Xander’s fine,” I say as I step into her personal space. My face is a mask and I can see her eyes widen in shock. She’s shocked by the change from friendly bantering Xander to this. “If you do anything to upset Evie or our kids, he’ll look like a fucking picnic.”

I nod towards the balcony. “And,” I pause for full effect, my voice is vicious, “you’ll be gone quicker than your mate Debs. Just so we’re clear.”

She steps back. She’s only ever seen Evie versions of us, the real us when we’re at home. She needs a reality check, less painful for her in the long run.