“You’re an ass,” he informs me, turning on his heel and walking out of the room.
“An ass who’s right,” I call after him, shaking my head as he disappears up the stairs.
I was more than happy to let him crash here when he first asked. With 11,000 square feet, my international-style home has plenty of space to accommodate him. When I first showed him and Mum the large, square, white-washed home I’d purchased, I could instantly tell they weren’t impressed.
In an Australian accent far thicker than mine, Mum had said, “It has no personality.” To which my much younger brother had happily replied, “I think he has three times as much personality than this cinder block, so it all evens out.”
I’d snickered, our mother smacked Chase’s arm, and they finished the tour of the, admittedly, lacking architecture. But I knew once I moved furniture in and hired a friend of a friend who was known for her interior decorating, Mum especially would see just how fitting this massive house is for me.
And I’ve made good on that.
My favorite room is the kitchen since me and Mum spent a lot of time together there growing up. She made sure both her sons knew how to cook, clean, and fend for ourselves. Even if I have the resources to pay others to do it for me now, which I do indulge in after hiring a housekeeper to clean the six-bedroom, four-and-a-half bath house, I still enjoy playing around with the recipes I’ve adapted over the years from both my parents and their families that were passed down.
It’s come in handy since Chase’s ‘few day’ stay has turned into months of him being my roommate. I don’t mind giving him a room and a few meals a day that we both enjoy. It’s nice having another person around to talk to and torment, especially one as easy to tease as him, but he barely leaves anymore.
When I hear his door slam upstairs, I loosen a sigh and turn down the TV. I’m about to shut it off when one of the hosts starts sprouting more rumors to everyone tuning in. “Zayne Gray had spoken to reporters about going solo in the past, then agreed to reunite with Violet Wonders only months after teasing the public with the possibility of his first album. What do you think, Hollywood Entertainment? Check out the poll we posted on our website and tell us if you’d rather see a solo album from the sexy Zayne Gray or a new album from the once-was boy banders Violet Wonders.”
Once-was? Clicking the power button, I curse under my breath and drop the remote onto the couch. I’m sick of people always pitting us against each other—not just Zayne, but all my mates. It’s always a competition. When we announced our comeback, it became trending news for weeks. When we announced our first tour back together and the album releasing soon after, it was all anyone could talk about for months. But the buzz always ends eventually and that’s when things get complicated.
Fame is a drug—it gives you a temporary high that’ll leave you crashing and craving more.
But not as much as wanting a legacy does.
That’s when integrity makes or breaks a person. It’s why Mum makes sure to keep me humbled so I don’t lose myself in the shit talk my name takes in magazines, tabloids, and media every single day. If it’s not drama between bandmates, it’s scandals of how we live our lives.
Too much partying.
Too many women.
The world looks at us like we have too much of everything, but most of us work our asses off for everything we have. I won’t let anyone take that from me. Not with their petty words or mindless polls.
I’m walking toward the kitchen after a long shower to wash off the sweat from my workout earlier when Chase enters wearing jeans and one of his ridiculous t-shirts—this one saying white and nerdy across the front. Accurate for the five-eleven, pasty dork Mum adopted when he was a baby. He only has an accent when he’s angry and exhausted and doesn’t share any of me and Mum’s looks. He says that’s why he stays out of the spotlight, so people won’t bring it up even though his adoption has never been a secret. He even refuses to talk like us, catching himself on little things that me and Mum tend to say every so often, adapting to Cali instead of embracing where his family came from. It used to irritate me that he seemed adamant on being nothing like the people who took him in, but Mum always made me brush it off saying, “He wants to be his own person. Let him be.”
“Where are you going?” I ask, glad to see him look more like himself.
He grabs his keys and stuffs his wallet into the back pocket of his jeans. “Meeting up with a couple people since you obviously don’t want me around.”
I roll my eyes, unable to stop from smirking at him. “I thought I was supposed to be the melodramatic one of the family.”
His lips flatten.
Sniggering, I shoot him a grin. “I’m messing with you, bro. It’s good you’re getting out. I worry about you.”
“Well don’t.”
I hold up my hands in surrender at his clipped tone, feeling my phone buzz in the pocket of my loose athletic shorts. “Fine, have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t. Your options should be vast.”
I’m not sure what he says when he walks out because it’s spoken under his breath. I let it roll of my shoulders as I pull open
