Pink - Wish You Were Here

Disclaimer:

As always, everyone engaging in sexual activity is over 18. This is a story of pure fiction in a world that doesn't exist.

One trigger warning, there is talk of rape / non-consensual, but all parties engaging, are VERY consensual.

Please enjoy.

It's a long one!!!

####

Adam Chambers

My father's funeral had been a huge affair, having all the royalty of popular music from 1970s to the present day in January 2005. The most surprising attendee was not the Elton Johns, the surviving members of Queen, or the Stings of the world, but Chloe's ex husband Matt. who looked distraught. As we followed the hearse, he and his son, who bared my father's name, flanked my sister along with the members of her band, in a show of unity and support. Would they get back together? Who knows. I was still struggling with the revelation that the dream I'd had about her all those years ago, might not have been 100% my imagination. I wasn't angry, as such, but the news of our father's sudden death from a massive heart attack immediately after, made further information impossible to obtain.

How do you even approach that conversation? "Hey sis, sorry about Dad but nearly 20 years ago I dreamt you fucked me........Did you really?" So I buried it along with my father that day, as the cold, damp earth scattered over the mahogany coffin lid. I needed to be there for my family.

Approaching my sister and her dysfunctional family, I could hear her ask Matt if he was coming back to the house. He declined, siting the need to return to USA for business. 'Matt-Twatt strikes again,' I thought, hugging young Charlie as I did. I had small talk with Matt, he told me he was heading to the airport soon and had just landed that morning. The gesture was nice I guess. He hugged young Charlie (I guess he's just plain Charlie now that my father has passed) and put his finger and thumb to his ear mimicking a phone saying, "anytime day or night, Champ," to my nephew. But then he did something I wasn't expecting, as instead of opting for our traditional hand shake, he pulled me in for the full "Man-Hug" and said into my ear, "You're a good man, Adam. They need you more than you know. You're the man of the family now". Then he hugged his ex-wife, told her he loved her, which I found peculiar, and then he was off.

Now, stepping towards my sister, she looked at me from beneath her black funeral hat, and not saying a word, I took her into my arms. Being almost a foot taller than her, I always have to lean down to hug her as she encircled my torso with her small arms. She had never seemed smaller aa her face was pressed into my chest through my thick, knee length overcoat. Immediately any stupid obsessions about a dream were banished to the back of my mind. Especially as when we broke our embrace, I noted the distinct smell of alcohol off her breath. I just wish I had scooped her up right there and took her to my house or Mum's, but then her drummer / best friend / part-time lover, Rufus, put his arm around her and she cried into his shoulder. I'd never felt so useless, and after that, things went quiet from my sister for some time.

The next few months had been tough for everyone. Mum was obviously devastated, having lost her first and only love at the cruelly young age of 57. Young Charlie was flying high at university. He and I chatted at least twice every week and I continued to make a point of catching up with him for even a coffee, at every opportunity. But I just couldn't bring myself to "Doorstep" my sister to see how she was. I found out soon enough.

I had saw photos of Chloe in a newspaper we will call "The Daily Scum", in which she was out drinking with friends. The suggestion being that they were documenting her downfall. I'd spoken to Rufus, but as he and David were in New York, he had only spoken with her on the phone and said she seemed ok - and she wasn't answering the phone to me.

Then, on St Valentin's day, "BLONDIE TO ZOMBIE" was the headline, along with images of my sister with some random younger man, now splashed across the daily rag of a tabloid newspaper.

She looked awful, her dirty blond, still quite short hair looking like she had been electrocuted. It got worse, there were blurred stills of a video in the next pages of what was allegedly my sister in bed with this guy. I only saw the one of her face with her eyes closed before I closed the newspaper and put it back on the shelf of the local shop.

"Aren't you buying that? We're not running a library," barked the shopkeeper.

"I Wouldn't wipe my arse with it," I shot back.

I immediately rang Mum and told her not to buy it. I rang Charlie and he was already driving home. But, of course we all were beaten there by her guardian Angel, Rufus. He rang me to say he'd been pre-warned about it by a contact in the media, and by the time the story broke, he had flown from New York and had convinced her she needed to go to get help. Part of me was angry that he'd did this without consulting her family, but then it wasn't about me or my family, he had taken her out of public view and got her to rehab, all by the time the story broke that morning. What a fucking legend of a friend he is to my sister.

I now lived in London, as my company insisted that I spend more time actually being a director, instead of my preferred option of paying people to run it and I just drive lorries/semi-trucks. So I drove home to see Mum. As I drove, one of her bands songs came on the radio, and I was heartened to hear the DJ say they were a great group and hoped they all are well. I let Rufus know I was on my way. His UK house being quite close to Mum, by the time I got to Mum's, she was having tea with my favourite, now pink haired, rock n roll drummer, Rufus.

He told us there was nothing anybody could've done, because he had tried to reach her too. She would be in rehabilitation for 4 months with no contact with the outside world. They were really strict, with her having everything down to her contraception pills being confiscated.

Shortly after I arrived, Charlie appeared, giving us all a big hug. We explained everything to him, and he thanked Rufus for looking out for his Mum, adding, you're my favourite pink haired person who's named after a dog, you know," bringing some light humour to the day.

I kept in touch with Charlie every day, just a text or a phone call at the least. He was clearly worried about his Mum but knew she was in the best place. He had started dating a girl called Samantha, and was asking me for tips so he "Knew to do the opposite," the little shit!

June arrived, and my sister's completion of her rehabilitation passed. I knew she was out as Rufus, Mum and Charlie told me, but she didn't contact me. Mum said she was fine, but Rufus wasn't happy. "There's something not right mate, there's something missing or she's keeping something bottled up," he told me in confidence, adding, "I hope we're not here again in another little while".

####

As I had the contract for lots of entertainment ventures, I had heard about requests for tenders for a big concert at Hyde Park, being touted as "Live Aid 2". I wasn't in the slightest bit interested but I knew it would be a lucrative contract to win. I put in a decent bid but wasn't successful. I thought nothing more of it, as I don't take much heed of the media anymore. Then a mate within the trucking industry rang me to tell me Pink Floyd had just been announced to play, with the classic lineup and the concert was now called, Live 8. I couldn't believe it, this was NEVER supposed to happen Pink Floyd, as they appeared to hate each other now.

The contact went on to say that he knew of my sister and I's love for them, that she needed to smile after the few years she's had. As all tickets were now gone, he was happy to give up his 2 complimentary tickets, on the provision that I delivered a load of beer to the venue, about half way through the concert. This would get us right into Hyde Park before Pink Floyd came on. I agreed instantly, insisting that my mate keeps the money for doing the job.

I had a fair idea Chloe would be in London watching Wimbledon on the weekend of Live 8, so I could agree to meet her in line with that. So I rang her, having not spoken to her since before her rehab it was a little awkward, just general chat. But we agreed to meet up while she was in London, not wanting to ruin the surprise.

####

July 1st, 2005.

I had arranged to spend the weekend with my sister, her not having any plans until the Wimbledon tennis final on July 3rd. I hadn't seen her in the flesh since a few days after my father's funeral and was nervous as hell. She'd had a huge life event since then, maybe she can't be bothered with me. But over that first, tentative phone call, she had seemed happy to hear from me and though teary, was happy to catch up. I'd asked Charlie if he wanted to take his Mum, but his response of "It has a bit too much grey hair for my liking" made his feelings clear.

Chloe had never been to my new house, so we arranged for her to meet me at my work's London depot. I was again out driving trucks and loving life for at least a week as we were crazy busy. I was running late so I texted her to tell her to take her time, but her reply confirmed that she too was stuck in traffic and wasn't far away. She had previously told me she drove a white Mercedes SL500 so I was on the lookout for it, as one of the perks of driving a lorry is that you are much higher up, and can see all around you. Surely a blond in a white SL500 shouldn't be too hard to spot.

I was being distracted by 2 things. A guy in a BMW M3 in my mirror's blind-spot, who was trying to get up the inside of my trailer to cut in in front of me. Also trying not to crash into the raven-haired stunner in the black, 1970s VW Golf cabriolet, sitting just ahead of me to my right. I was really wishing BMW guy would piss off, as every time my line of traffic caught up with Golf girl, I had a great view down into her car, and mainly, her shapely chest, that was only obstructed by her shoulder length locks. She was beautiful with her tan and "The Fly" sunglasses. She was not thin or chubby, just enough body shape to trouble her seat belt, as it kept disappearing into the valley between her breasts, framing the treasures within her white, long sleeved, v-neck top. I was just thinking, 'Fuck, I need to reconnect with Clara - I NEED LAID,' when BMW guy beeped his horn. I'd had enough and got out of my cab to ask him what his fucking problem was, and as I concisely explained my situation and why I needed extra room to turn than him, the lights changed and the girl in the Golf was gone forever.

I had just set off again, as BMW guy sped off, when I received a text. As I was busy driving, I couldn't look at it just yet so I made my way towards the depot. I stopped at traffic lights and looked at my Nokia phone to see a new text and one I had missed, both from Chloe

Recent text: "Just here now"

Missed text: "Car trouble, running late, I'm in a Golf now."

It still didn't ring a bell, right up until I arrived at the gate of my work, where just inside the compound was a black 1970s VW Golf cabriolet with a raven haired, tanned woman in it. The penny dropped with a clatter that I'm sure was heard for miles around. I had just spent 10 minutes checking out my no-longer famously blond sister.

Parking up, I checked everything was in order for the pickup tomorrow - a total journey to Hyde Park of about an hour and a half. Security passes and complimentary tickets all in place. All systems go.

She followed me back to the house and we didn't hug upon arrival. Due, in no small part, to how she looked. She still looked about 10 years from her 39 (almost 40) age. She had her jet-black hair straightened, down to her shoulders where it met the jacket of her peach coloured trouser suit, with the white top that had caught my eye earlier nestling underneath the jacket, and what looked like high-heeled sandals that looked fucking impossible to walk in.

"Fucking hell, you're a sight for sore eyes," she smiled as she took in my dusty, filthy coverall clothes.

"You're looking great, you suit the new hair," I said, immediately regretting it as it might actually not be real, following the last time I saw her.

"Thanks! And more importantly, it's all mine apart from a few extensions here and there!" she beamed, before asking, "No Clara?"

"Oh, we're not really exclusive. I've not actually seen her in about 3 months," I winced. In actual fact, I'd been too consumed with thoughts of Chloe's wellbeing to even consider Clara. Or was it just, like always, thoughts of my sister and that night long ago.

"Shame, she was crazy. I liked her, bro," she reminisced about that night in Lanzarote, before the news of Dad had dropped.

"Too crazy. We're nearly 40, sister dear. I can't keep up with that, she was crazy in bed......."

"TMI......TMI" she cried, putting her fingers in her ears and and laughing before adding, "Don't knock it, yours truly is like a nun by choice these days. Fuck that for ending up in the newspapers," she said, putting her hands either side of her head, framing her face

More importantly, her reference to the pictures in the newspaper IMMEDIATELY threw me a lifeline about addressing the elephant in the room.

I showed her to her room for the weekend, which was one I had never slept in or even sat in. My new house was massive, had a hot tub, a state of the art kitchen, a pizza oven and barbecue, and I had used none of it!! I went back to my room to change into a clean shirt and a pair of shorts before returning to find her inspecting my kitchen.

"D'ya know how much your oven is worth?"

"No idea, I've only used it twice"

"I'll put it this way, I have the same one in my new restaurant I'm opening soon. What about the pizza oven? The barbecue.......?" She stopped, seeing me shaking my head.

"ADAAAM!" she exclaimed, appalled at my expensive appliances going to waste, before offering, "I'll cook us something nice. Like pizza? I'm guessing I've to go buy ingredients.......ok" she said as I nodded 'Yes'.

So off she went to the supermarket while I prepared the pizza oven (on her instruction of course) and then took the time to have a shower before she returned.

"Hi Bro, I got you some beer I know you like too. Just because I'm a raving maniac on alcohol, doesn't mean you must suffer," she announced.

"Don't say things like that about yourself." I replied. You were quite unwell.

"On I know. I'm not making light of it, but I have to laugh at it or I'd cry all the time," she pondered, looking into my kitchen sink.

"Chloe, I must ask. Are you well, I mean, within yourself? You seem very much in your groove."

"Yeah, someone said the rule of thumb is that the brain can handle 4 or 5 traumas ok. And I had so many more that I just "checked out" and checked into alcohol. "

"You're a phenomenal person you know. I'm very proud of you in battling your demons," I softly said as I finally hugged my sister, now with tears running down her face.

"Oh stop saying nice things to me, my mascara is everywhere!" She sighed before nervously asking, "Did you see the pictures, Adam?"

"I saw the front page, I don't need to see anymore". I firmly stated.

"Thank you. You know David and Rufus had their mates buying them all up and burning them," she sniffed.

"He loves you very much. He really is your guardian angel," I gushed as she nodded, wiping her eyes with a tissue. "Overrated drummer, mind you," I laughed, bringing a much needed smile to her pretty face and bringing out her dimples.

"Right, go sit. Your sister is making you pizza," she said, whilst handing me a beer and telling me to go watch TV.

The pizza was like something delivered fresh from Italy. And she made 2 extra ones, just in case I fancied more or wanted to freeze them.

"They'll do us tomorrow evening when we're watching Live 8 on TV," I teased, still not telling her we're actually going to the Hyde Park concert.

"Imagine, my Pink Floyd playing down the road and I was too busy being in rehab to get tickets. It would only be an anticlimax anyway. No way they'll be as good as I remembered them.

I was shaking as I reached into my pocket to get the complimentary tickets. What if it was too much for her? What if Pink Floyd were awful! What if....... And then I just did it. Walking up to her, I took my hand out of my pocket, put the tickets into hers and said, "you'll not be wanting those then?"

Taking a ticket in each hand, she scanned one and then the other. After what seemed like an age, she exclaimed, "How did you get these, Adam? My management, Gordon's people even couldn't get me a ticket.

"Gordon doesn't drive a lorry," I shrugged.

"No, really Adam. What have you done?"

I was now seriously worried. She seemed genuinely shell-shocked and hadn't looked up from the tickets since I placed them in her hands.

"A friend and business rival knew you were my sister, and having heard your story from his daughter, wanted me to have these. He's also getting out of doing a booze run to Hyde Park tomorrow as part of the deal. Your gonna be a truck driver's apprentice tomorrow too".

"I c.....can't believe you did this," she breathed, prizing her eyes from the tickets as she set them on the counter top before crossing the kitchen to me. I engulfed her in my arms. She wasn't crying, she just pressed herself against me as I embraced her and inhaled as much of her rose-petal, vanilla and citrus smell as I could. After about 5 minutes, she spoke "Thank you, bestest brother. I don't deserve a brother like you. I can't believe this," she repeated softly.

"You had to go see them, Chloe. You've loved them forever! Dad would haunt us if we didn't go," I grinned, bringing a smile to her face.

"Thank you, Adam. Truly from the bottom of my heart. Nobody has ever done anything like this for me. I don't deserve you."

"It's ok. I love you, Big Sister."

She hugged me again and, looking quite distant said, "it's been quite a day. Can I shower before bed?"

I showed her where the shower and towels were, assuring her that she could take her time as I could get ready for bed in my en-suite.

"Thank you again, for all this" she said, hugging me so tight, I couldn't help but do a double take, as I realised the breasts of the hot woman in the VW Golf I had ogled earlier, were now pressed tightly against my abdomen. More importantly, they were about to be naked in my bathroom! I immediately chastised myself internally and squeezed her tightly before we separated. "I don't deserve you," she breathed with a faraway look as she let go of my hand and headed for the bathroom.

I stepped out of my jeans and showered in my é -suite, then put on some shorts. Then I rang a mate to see what would be the best way into the concert. Then, I went to let my dogs out before bed, and locked everything up. Making sure Chloe's car was secured. And then I went to bed. No dreams, no making love to my sister like in the stories in that website I'd stumbled across. I had the best night sleep in ages, knowing my sister was safely in the room, just a few feet away.

####

July 2nd, 2005.

I woke to the smell of bacon cooking, and a soft knocking at my door.

"Breakfast for my hero," she chimed, setting down my full English breakfast as I sat up, immediately realising I was only wearing shorts and tucking the blankets in, just in case of my softening morning wood being spotted.

"Thanks! You really shouldn't have, I'd have taken you out for breakfast," I said, before asking, "aren't you eating too?"

"Oh, yeah. Mine is just ready. I'll go eat out here and leave you in peace ".

"Not at all. I'll put some clothes on and join you in the kitchen.