The Devil's Tattoo

by Nicole R. Taylor

  "Self advertising, Frankey?" I asked, letting him in.

  "I love tooting my own horn," he declared proudly, then realised what he'd just said. "Oh man."

  Shutting the door behind him, I laughed, pushing him onto the couch. "Make sure you toot that behind closed doors. Some things people don't need to see."

  Frank opened his mouth to shoot something back, but thought better of it and hid his face behind his hands.

  "Drink?"

  "Please."

  I got him a glass of water as he pulled out his phone and dialed the number the radio station gave us for the conference call. Butterflies fluttered around my stomach as I sat across from him. I wondered if this would get any easier. He placed his phone on the coffee table and turned it on speaker. As we listened to the hold music, Frank patted me on the knee.

  Hugo was the host of the afternoon drive show on the nation wide alternative radio station, Absolute. When he came on the line, they're still playing Walls.

  "Hey guys." He sounded really friendly. Professional.

  "Hey," Frank replied.

  "Ready? We're on in a minute."

  "Give us your best."

  The song came to an end and Hugo took the mic and I'm jealous of his ability to fill the silence with his words.

  "You're listening to Absolute and that track was Walls from a new and exciting band out of Melbourne called The Devil's Tattoo. Hey. I'm Hugo taking you right through to five. But really, wasn't that an awesome song? And right now, as promised, I've got two of the members from that exact band, The Devil's Tattoo on the line. Frank and Zoe. How are you guys?"

  "Great, thanks," we both echoed.

  "Latest reports are that Walls has gone to the number six spot on the iTunes chart. That is absolutely phenomenal. How are you guys dealing with that?"

  Frank took the lead. "We have been blown away by the response to Walls already. It really has been quite amazing and unexpected."

  "You guys only decided to form a band together a few months ago?"

  "Yeah," said Frank. "I was drumming in a punk band at the time and this particular night Dee, Zoe and I were at a Stabs gig at The Corner in Melbourne and Dee decided it was an awesome idea. I don’t think we had a choice."

  "He conned us into it," I said.

  "So Zoe, is it true that this is the first band you've been in?"

  "Yeah. I’ve known Dee since we were twelve, so even though I had never sung in front of anyone, he knew I could, even if I didn’t. I picked up guitar almost three years ago now for something to do, but I never thought about being in a band before. I guess I was content in watching others and enjoying their music to contribute myself."

  "That's crazy! Three years? We've had comments coming through on the text line saying that you play like Jack White. Another says that you put Jimmy Page to shame."

  "I wouldn't go that far," I laughed. "When I first started it was like a puzzle. I had the time to nut it out."

  "So, it's like maths equation?" Frank asked.

  "I wasn't that great at math’s in school."

  "But you could look at it that way."

  "I guess. Music can be very mathematical. It probably depends on how you approach it."

  "Enough talk about math’s," Hugo laughed. "What I'm dying to know is who your influences are? What went into deciding on how your sound played out?"

  "I came from a punk background," Frank started. "So, I was listening to stuff like The Clash, The Adicts, GBH and newer stuff like Rancid and NoFx. The band I was in was playing a lot of reggae and loud shouty punk. I don't think we had a song that lasted more than two and a half minutes."

  "I'd never thought about writing before," I said. "I was just playing for kicks, but I was listening to a lot of stuff from bands like Alberta Cross, Band of Skulls, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, The Dead Weather… You know, gritty rock and some mellower stuff as well. We all have our influences and they all meld together. It's a very collaborative effort."

  "How would you describe your sound? We’ve heard everything from dark and dirty to face melting rock’n’roll. How would you guys describe it?"

  “Waking up after an amazing night on the booze with a sexy woman and not knowing how the fuck you got there.” Frank. Always so astute.

  “Wow,” I drawled.

  "Wow, indeed. What about you Zoe?"

  “Dark, dirty, face melting, wet dream, sweaty rock’n’roll.”

  "I think we like you guys."

  “Like?” I exclaimed.

  "Okay, okay. We bloody love you guys. We’ve gotta get you in the studio next time. I know Robbo would love you guys on the breakfast show for Cover Wars."

  My ears pricked up at the mention of this. Cover Wars was a weekly segment where bands get to play one of their songs and a cover version live on air. I'd love to do it.

  "For sure," Frank said, excited. "We've got some things up our sleeve. Hook us up."

  "Oh, I'm sure we'll make it happen sooner rather than later, but the next thing everybody is dying to know is when's the album out? And when are we gunna see some more live shows?"

  "We've had the album recorded for some time. It’s going to be out in two weeks, to coincide with a little tour we have planned, but you’ll have to wait for that to be announced properly," Frank said deviously.

  "Hey, Frank. Are we even allowed to tell ‘em about this yet?"

  "Too late!"

  Everyone laughed. This interview business wasn't half as bad as I though it was going to be.

  "So much exciting news from the camp! So, what’s the album called?"

  "Do Me A Favor."

  "What’s the story behind that?"

  “It’s what Zoe says to Dee all the time. Do me a favor and shut the hell up.”

  “He’s really annoying.”

  "Especially when he tunes his guitar."

  "He takes forever."

  "Oh man. You guys sound like a lot of fun to hang around."

  "We're like a family," Frank agreed.

  "It's been great having you on this arvo. Shame its been so short."

  "Thanks for having us," I said.

  "Not a problem. Any time. Right now, we've got a song that you guys have picked out for us. Tell us what it is and why you chose that particular song."

  "This is Future Starts Slow by the Kills," I said. "We chose it because it's great and if there was one tune out there that explained us as a whole and what we're about, it's this one."

  "I agree and I think Australia would as well. This is a killer track. Cheers, guys. Thanks again for stopping by."

  As the song came on and we're off air, Hugo thanked us for hanging out with him again and the call ended.

  A text came through on my phone, vibrating in my pocket. I laughed when I saw who it was from and what it said.

  Dee: I thought I told you to say nice things about me? xxx

  I text him back: But you do take forever to tune your guitar.

  "Do you wanna come over now?" Frank asked. "I know we've got two hours or so until rehearsal, but I can give you a lift."

  "Sure," I said. "Just let me get my stuff."

  I was on a high after that interview and was dying to know what the details were for the tour. Where we were going, how many shows, how we were getting around. I'd never really thought about how bands toured and now that we were about to do it, I was more than a little excited. It was going to be great to get out of town for a while and to do it with another band would be even better. I had so much to learn about everything and I was keen to see how things worked in bigger venues. Even if it wasn't The Stabs, I'd still feel the same way.

  At the thought of touring with them for five weeks side by side, my stomach fluttered and I knew that this crush I'd developed on Will Strickland was going to be trouble. All caps, bold, underline, strikethrough.

  CHAPTER SIX

  WILL

  In a roundabout way you could probably say that I'd done one over on our record label. We'd pushed
so hard to get The Devil's Tattoo on tour it was like a picket line of union workers at a stop work at some factory somewhere. I swear I was that close to chucking a tantrum. I'd driven our manager Dean to hell and back. It all depended on if the band could commit or not, so when they'd agreed, I was suddenly anxious.

  I didn't know anything about Zoe Granger outside of music. I knew what she thought about things from her interviews, but she never ever spoke about anything personal. She could be anyone and the thought hadn't crossed my mind until now. And Pete had kept his word about being hands off. He, and the others, didn't say a word about it and I was thankful. I really was coming across like a crazy stalker. That, I had to tone down.

  We'd been away in New Zealand for the past week and a half, so we hadn't had the opportunity to meet The Devil's Tattoo. Tonight was the first gig of the tour and I swear I was more nervous now than when we'd first started. Pete and I went ahead of Sticks and Louie and got to the Hi-Fi Bar in record time. I was dying to hear the band sound check and I was also dying to see Zoe Granger in the flesh again.

  They were standing on stage when we walked in, the harsh light of day flooding into the dark room and they all looked up at us. I suddenly felt self-conscious, but my eyes latched onto Zoe and any rational thought I'd had just flew out of the window.

  She looked different somehow from the last time I'd seen her. It was that gig back at Cherry and I wondered if it was because of their success or just life. Something had happened and she looked more beautiful than I remembered.

  As soon as they started playing, I knew I'd made the right decision. Not only for my selfish ass, but for the band. Zoe didn't open her eyes the whole time she sang and the way she played was phenomenal. It was like it was second nature to her and I wondered if she'd really been playing for three years like she'd said in interviews. Maybe she was that talented.

  It didn't register when the others turned up and stood with us watching, nor did it when they tried to make jokes at my expense. Pete dragged me side of stage, so we could get our gear as The Devil's Tattoo finished up.

  When they did come off stage, I don't know what came over me, but before Pete, Louie or Sticks noticed, I ducked backstage and hid in the band room. What the hell? Was I some scared little boy now? I'd built up this image of her into something I wasn't prepared of letting go if she turned out to be someone else.

  "Uh, Will?" It was Dean.

  "What?"

  "Are you hiding?" he asked with a chuckle.

  "No."

  "Uh, yeah. You're hiding."

  Right now, Dean's most likeable trait was pissing me off. He told it like it was and never in a nasty way. He had a full beard and tattoos all over and was all the more friendlier for it.

  I scoffed at his comment. Yes, I was hiding.

  I was saved from more of his commentary when the others came in and started hauling our gear to the stage. I took the opportunity to busy myself and try and still my shaking hands. I swear I was about to die.

  After we finished our sound check, I saw Zoe and some of the guys from her band sitting along the stairs. Swallowing my fear, I took a deep breath and walked over.

  It was now or never.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ZOE

  The Hi-Fi Bar was probably one of my favourite venues in Melbourne. It has an upstairs area with a bar, where people can view the stage from above and down below there is a section set down into the mosh pit with four or five steps leading outwards, so there's a better view of the stage from most angles. I've seen so many shows here and it's a dark, but airy place with great acoustics.

  Today is the first show of the Walls on Fire tour. The label came up with the idea to merge the names of both our current singles. Our song, Walls, and The Stabs' song, Fire. To date we hadn't had the chance to meet any of the members of the band we'd be spending the next five or so weeks with. It kind of annoyed us a little, since we were going to be with them for so long, but Simone said they'd been in New Zealand doing a few gigs. Pete, their singer and guitarist had sent us an email saying how excited they were, so that was nice enough.

  There was a support band as well as us and The Stabs and it was our turn to sound check. I haven't a clue what I'm meant to do, so I enlisted the help of one of the tech guys from the venue to help me out. A few more times and I think I'd have this which cord in what plug scenario down pat.

  So, I'm standing on stage all rock’n’roll like with my beloved black sexy as hell Epiphone slung over my shoulder playing the opening bars of Walls, Frank singing ‘Why are we waiting, slowly dehydrating’, Chris banging his head against his microphone, waiting for Dee to hurry the hell up and tune his new Gibson when the side door opened, letting the harsh daylight into the dark and dirty room. Of course we all look up at that moment, because who wouldn't, and see two of the four members of The Stabs walk in like they owned the joint. I saw a shock of curly hair and for whatever reason, I rolled my eyes. Chris winked at me and I flipped him off.

  “When you’re ready, pansy boy!” Frank yelled at Dee, oblivious as usual.

  When he was finally good to go, we get on with sound check and for whatever reason I’m nervous. I didn't open my eyes the whole time, the chords so familiar my fingers just flew over the strings and the words came out of my mouth. I'm on autopilot and when the song ended, I could scarcely remember playing it at all.

  "Zo Zo," Frank called out to me, snapping me out of my haze. “Get up here, sweetness,” he patted the top of the bass drum. “Gotta make sure it doesn’t fall over."

  I jumped up on the step and stood on top of the drum and gave it a little wobble. “Steady as she goes.” It had been Dee's idea to amp our show up a little for this tour. Up until a few gigs ago, I'd pretty much just stood on stage and played, hardly moving a metre away from the mic. We closed our set with a fast and dirty rock'n'roll song and there was the perfect lull, right before it ended, that he said would look pretty sweet if I jumped up onto the kit and played the last few bars up there. And he'd been right, of course. A photo had been published online and to my surprise, I kinda looked good.

  One of the tech guys came along as I wiggled the bass drum around and Dee eyeballed him. “Move this kit and you’re dead. She falls off and breaks somethin’, you’re mine.”

  “Take a chill pill, Dee.” I smiled apologetically at the guy and he shrugged. I handed him my guitar and jumped back down onto the stage.

  We unplugged all our effects peddles and guitars as the drum kit was rolled off stage on it's little platform so The Stabs could do their thing, but they didn't seem to be in any hurry as they loitered in front of the stage. Two had become the complete set of four. I could feel them watching us and I did my best to ignore them for now and concentrate on what I'm doing. I kind of felt intimidated by them. They're on album number three, so they've been around for a long time already and we've just started.

  When we wandered off stage, they came up to us and introduced themselves and thankfully for now, Will Strickland was absent. They all seemed very nice and welcoming and offered to give us some pointers if we needed anything. Pete was their guitarist and vocalist. He was tall and wiry, and his dirty blonde hair hung in his eyes, pushed forward by a black hoodie that seemed to be perpetually over his head. Sticks was their drummer and he reminded me a lot of Frank. He was just as muscled and rough around the edges, but he smiled and was nice to talk with. And Louie was their other guitarist. He had a slick haircut that was combed back into a quiff, so he and Dee had a lot to talk about and there were various tattoos on his arm and one that peeked out of his v-neck t-shirt on his chest. Where mine were Japanese style dragons and flowers, his were traditional roses, pinup girls and what looked to be an eagle on his front.

  We made ourselves scarce from the backstage area while they set up and sat together on the stairs towards the back of the room. As they sound checked, I leant my chin against my hand, letting my fringe fall into my eyes. As a complete set of four, they looked quite go
od together. I watched them run through a few songs, just like we had earlier, my eyes not missing a beat. As they adjusted their equipment on stage and tested mics, I took everything in.

  Dee elbowed me. "They're quite efficient, that lot," he said as they finished up.

  "They've been doing it for a while."

  "Do you still have a crush on him?"

  I almost choked on my own spit.

  "I'll take that as a yes."

  "I never said I did," I hissed.

  "Well you better figure it out, Zo Zo."

  "Why?"

  "Cos he's coming this way."

  Before I could do anything, Dee jumped to his feet and walked away as fast as he could, leaving me in the lurch. I swallowed hard and looked back toward the stage and Will was walking towards me and I mean it's just me. Everyone else has bailed and I wondered if I was that obvious.

  I stood as he approached, determined to get through this with my dignity intact, but he's just too good looking and the way his hair was falling into his eyes…

  “You’re…”

  “Zoe,” I said abruptly, snapping out of it and almost falling down the stairs. My back is to the stage now, and I hoped the light is hiding the massive blush that's crept onto my face.

  “Yeah, I know.” He hid a small smile, signaling it didn't.

  I’m kind of surprised he knew my name, but I let it slide. “I would like to say I know your name, but I don’t.” Total lie.

  He laughed at my bluntness and said, “I’m Will.”

  “Nice to meet you, Will.” I looked him up and down and he smiled in a way that would melt the knickers of any two-bit groupie, but I tried to keep mine on.

  He took my hand and shook it, even though I didn't offer it to him. If this was one of those soppy romance novels, I would think that he was trying to find an excuse to touch me, but it's not and it's probably just weird.

  Behind him, I caught Simone giving me a vigorous thumbs up from where she's been setting up the merch table. When he realised I was looking at something over his shoulder, he looked back and she turned around quickly, pretending to tape a shirt to the wall.