Page 55 of The Encore Effect

“You call this fun? We aren’t kids anymore. This isn’t a game.”

“I fucking know that,” Jackson spat. “I’m a grown-ass man being treated like a teenager. Goddamn curfew. No partying on show nights. What the fuck is that, Becks? We didn’t have rules this strict when we were just coming up. Then Kat goes on a power trip—”

Beckett stepped toe-to-toe with his brother, his voice low and dangerous. “You don’t say shit about Kat. None of this is her fault. It’s all you.”

Jackson stumbled back a step. “What are you talking about?”

“Those aren’t Kat’s rules. They’re the label’s. Derek’s.” Jackson rolled his eyes. “We only have a few weeks left of this tour, Jackie. We just have to get through a few more weeks.”

“And then what? Everyone forgets about us again?”

Beckett blinked in confusion. “What?”

“We’re selling out arenas, Becks. In our forties. No one thought we could do that. And you want to walk away when the tour is over?”

“We’re not talking about this now.”

“I’m fucking talking about it,” Jackson bellowed.

Jackson wasn’t usually angry when he drank–he was happy, goofy even, everyone’s best friend. Sometimes he drank too much and flipped over into sadness, inconsolable, incoherent, sobbing in his brother’s arms. But this… this was something different. Something Beckett hadn’t seen since they were children.

Back then, they were a united front, swearing they’d never be like the man who terrorized their family with his drinking, who became an unrecognizable version of himself somewhere around the fifth drink. Jackson scowled, a shadow passing over his face that looked so much like their dad, it sent bile climbing up the back of Beckett’s throat. His stomach pitched violently.

“Let’s just get through the tour,” Beckett said, forcing his voice to be calm, patient, even as his own anxiety kicked into high gear.

“And then what? You’ll go off and marry Kat—if she’ll even have you—and fuck the rest of us, I guess.”

“Jackie—”

“You think I don’t know you want out? You think I can’t fucking smell it on you? What about the rest of us, Becks? We’re supposed to be in this together. A family.”

“We are—”

“You have all these fucking plans for after, but this is all I’m good at.” He beat his fist against his chest with his free hand. “This is all I am.”

Beckett blew out a breath, his mind racing. Hundreds of people and an entire press corps were on the other side of that wall. Jackson was hurtling headlong towards the biggest public meltdown of his career, and Beckett could not let that happen.

“Let’s talk about this tomorrow.”

“Don’t fucking manage me,” Jackson said, disdain in every word.

“How about some coffee?” Beckett tried again.

“I don’t want any coffee!” Jackson hurled the empty rocks glass at the wall. It shattered on impact, a spray of ice and glass ricocheting across the room.

Beckett reeled back, dropping to his knees and throwing his arms over his head as he was plunged back in time to another glass shattering against another wall, every muscle in his body coiling in on itself.

Gideon was around the corner so fast Beckett didn’t have time to question it as he put his body between the brothers and the sound. Jackson swayed on his feet, staring at his hand, dumbfounded, as though he wasn’t sure how the glass had left his grasp.

“Everyone alright?” Gideon asked, his eyes sweeping the room as Beckett slowly stood back upright, embarrassment scraping up his spine.

“I need a refill,” Jackson mumbled, his words running together.

Gideon swung his eyes to Beckett, and even through the professionally blank expression, Beckett could read the question there. Beckett swallowed, a sour taste flooding his mouth, and tipped his chin towards the bodyguard.

No, everyone’s not alright.

Everyone hadn’t been alright in a long time. And Beckett was so tired. All he wanted to do was go back to the ballroom and pull Kat into his lap, bury his nose in her hair and pretend nothing else mattered. Pretend no one else mattered.