by Julie Archer
“Oh, right. Do you do many gigs?”
“We’re taking a break and going in to the studio soon to work on some new material. You should definitely come and see us when we next play though.”
“Sounds cool.” Clem took a large gulp of her wine. “I can’t believe you came all the way here tonight just to see me.” She smiled and Nate remembered exactly why he had. That smile won him over once again, her blue eyes sparkling at him.
His own mouth curved up into a smile. “I think you’re worth it.” He glanced discreetly at his watch. He was still determined to catch that last train home, no matter what inviting looks she threw at him. “Tell me a bit more about you. I’m sure you don’t spend all your time chatting up random blokes in hotels.”
“How do you know that? I might be a honey trapper.”
She could trap me anytime, thought Nate. He felt like he was already well on the way there. One night and several days of messages later. It shouldn’t be possible to fall so quickly. Perhaps it was because Clem was the antithesis of everything he had been attracted to in the past.
“You said something about a lingerie campaign?” Oh yes, Nate, that’s such safer ground. He mentally punched himself.
“Oh, that? It’s nothing. I just wanted you to have to think about me in lingerie.” Clem gave him a broad wink.
She crossed her legs and Nate’s eyes were drawn to them. He thought she’d had good legs when he’d first seen her, but seeing them encased in tight denim was another thing. His thoughts drifted again as he imagined those legs wrapped around him. “Then you’ve done a good job. I can’t get that image out of my head.”
The corner of her mouth quirked. “Seriously though, I’m involved with a fashion label. We do pretty simple stuff: a few t-shirts, jewellery and now we’re doing a few lingerie pieces.” She looked down, her finger running around the rim of her glass. “And I do a reality show, Pretty Rich Things. I doubt you’ve seen it.”
It appeared Clem was almost embarrassed as she admitted that to Nate. “Yeah, I saw that in the magazine too. I kind of recognise it from somewhere; maybe I’ve inadvertently watched it when drunk.” The name of the show was still bugging him. He really should have asked Alik about it before now.
Trying to regain his attention, she tapped him on the knee with her foot. “I’ve got a PA tomorrow night, something for the show. I guess you do them as well?”
Nate shook his head. If he was totally honest, he wasn’t completely sure he knew what that was. “No, I don’t think we do. We do a meet and greet thing after gigs sometimes.”
“I was just wondering if maybe you wanted to come along with me?” asked Clem. “It’s in a club in Windsor. Late, like around eleven. I can’t promise it will be all that exciting, but you’ll get to know me a bit more. If you’d like to, of course.”
His answer was almost instant. “Sure, I’d love to.”
Chapter Six
The following afternoon, Nate and Alik got together for their overdue jam session. Since the tour finished and the band had made a triumphant return to the Wilde Park Festival, they had barely seen each other. Nate and Richey had been working on new material together and Nate was keen to share the results with Alik before they went back into the studio with Dev.
Over the past few months, the quartet had pulled together an arsenal of riffs, beats and lyrics that were unmistakably Blood Stone Riot. Whatever came out of their session in the recording studios had the potential to be legendary.
Alik came over to Nate’s flat, which had once been his before he’d moved in with Caro. Sometimes, Nate felt a bit like the poor relation, renting a flat from his best friend while everyone around him was settled. Even Dev and Yulia were living together now.
Absentmindedly, Nate wondered where Clem lived. Somewhere in London probably, given where they’d met last night. They’d messaged late into the night after he’d got home, and he knew she was shooting something for the show that afternoon, so he’d promised to give her space until he saw her later. He was already looking forward to it.
“This is good stuff, Nate,” said Alik. He had an acoustic guitar balanced on his lap and he followed along as Nate was playing. “Raw, passionate, angry. Did you guys get as far as lyrics?”
“Richey’s got a few things jotted down. He thought he’d wait until the studio to work on them with you.” Nate was always pleased to hear Alik’s approval. Sometimes he still felt like he needed it.
“Cool. I can’t wait.” Alik put the guitar to one side and reached into his jacket for a sheet of paper. “Check this place out. Parker emailed me the details this morning. One of the recording rooms is an absolute dream. You should see the guitars they’ve got there: Fender, Rickenbacker…”
Nate grabbed the details from him. As he read through, he was almost salivating over the guitar set-up. He glanced over at his beloved Les Paul and Gretsch collection feeling a pang of guilt for even thinking of switching allegiances. “Where is this place? I guess Parker couldn’t get Newcomen Farm or the Lighthouse?”
“We just missed out on the Lighthouse. It’s a full on residential studio called The Blacker Lodge. The best part is, it’s only just up the road off the M4, which means much less travel and hassle. We can load our stuff into the van like we did for the tour and head off.”
“When do we go?”
“One day next week. I need to check in with the others.”
“I can’t wait.” Nate picked up his guitar again. “Check this out.”
They jammed for over two hours, riffing off each other, playing around with sounds as much as they could with two acoustics and scribbling down snatches of lyrics.
“Whatever you do, don’t lose these between now and next week,” warned Alik. “There could be a Brit award winning single in there.”
They both laughed. The notion that Blood Stone Riot would be able to get anywhere near the Brits was ridiculous. It didn’t mean they couldn’t dream though.
“You got any beers?” asked Alik as he settled back on the sofa.
Nate checked the clock. There was still plenty of time before he had to go and meet Clem. “Sure. I can only have one or two though, mate, I’ve got a hot date tonight.”
“A date? You sly dog, that didn’t take you long. Who’s the lucky lady?” Alik called after Nate as he went to the kitchen and grabbed a couple of bottles from the fridge.
“Actually, there was something I was going to ask you. Do you remember a show called Pretty Rich Things? I can’t think why I know the name.”
Alik’s hand froze in mid-air as he reached for the beer Nate held out to him. “Are you kidding me?”
“No, why?”
“I’ve got three words for you, Nate.” Alik paused. “Edie Spencer-Newman.”
The name hit Nate right in the gut. Suddenly it all clicked into place. That was the reason he’d recognised the name of Clem’s show.
Edie Spencer-Newman had been in it.
Edie was a former flame of Alik’s who had an affair with the band’s late bassist, Billy Walker. She’d gotten pregnant with Billy’s child, all the while stringing Alik along and making him think the child was his. And that was just some of the things she’d done.
A slight feeling of uneasiness washed over Nate. From what he’d seen, Clem was unlikely to be anything like Edie. Although a chance meeting at a wedding, marathon messaging sessions and a quick drink meant he hardly knew her really. Even the small bit of internet stalking he’d done had shown her off to be hard working and fun to be around. He hadn’t been able to find anything negative at all.
“Clem’s nothing like Edie,” he heard himself say. He had no idea if she was or not.
“Really? On the face of it, there are definitely some similarities.” Alik ticked things off on his fingers as he spoke. “Reality show? Check. Rich friends? Check. Taking advantage of your success? Check. She’s got to be bad news.”
“How do you know any of that? All I said was that she’s on a T
V show and you’ve made about a hundred assumptions based on that.”
The two of them fell silent and Nate took a sip of beer, unsure of how he felt. He’d been buzzed the past few days, the excitement of a potential new relationship after all the crap he’d been through giving him a long missing spark. Now Alik was pouring shade on it before it even had the chance to become anything.
It was the first time in a long while that they had differing opinions over something.
It was the first time it been over a woman.
“You wanna tell me why she’s different?” Alik spoke first. “Try and convince me why she’s not going to be like Edie.”
“Seems like you’ve made your mind up already, no matter what I say.”
Alik let out a hard breath. Nate didn’t want to start an argument and fell silent.
This wasn’t like Alik at all. It wasn’t like his best friend to not back him up over something like this. He’d not said a word when Nate hooked up with Rach on tour, even though technically he had still been with Poppy.
“I guess I’ll head off then.” Alik stood up and put his guitar back in its case. “I’ll let myself out.”
The door banged behind him, leaving Nate alone. He screwed up his face, not understanding the situation. It only made him more determined to see Clem. Thinking about her brought him back to a good place. He reached for his phone and sent her a message. He was really looking forward to seeing her that night.
Chapter Seven
The dulcet tones of Dean Cameron reverberated around the small meeting room as the main players in Stelle D’Oro sat and discussed the next advertising campaign. These meetings always left Clem cold, talking about the boring—but nonetheless important—stuff, such as finances, production costs and stock levels.
She was only half-listening. Her mind focused on seeing Nate that night and wanting to make a good impression. So far, she wasn’t sure she had.
In addition to Dean, Clem, James the finance guy and Polly, who was one of the general gofers, there was a TV crew filming for Pretty Rich Things. Clem already knew what was coming, she’d briefed the director on what they were going to be talking about and had to pretend to act surprised when Dean asked her to front the lingerie range.
Dean Cameron was ten years older than her, a protective brother, who also taught her a lot about business. When Clem had returned from the Fashion Institute of Design & Merchandising in Los Angeles after completing a two-year course in Merchandise Product Development, she’d begged him to invest in her idea. When she’d been approached by the reality show, it made perfect sense. Not only would the people watching the programme be interested in the success of the business, the audience demographic was a definite target for the brand. Even Dean, usually opposed such frivolity, could see the pound signs.
“Clem, let me tell you what I’m thinking for this,” said Dean, bringing her back to the present.
“Shoot.” Inwardly, Clem cringed. It wasn’t what she’d usually say, but there were certain things the programme told her to do.
Dean pulled out a sheaf of sketches, being careful not to show them to the camera. “This range is perfect for you to be involved with. So long as you don’t mind the provocative nature of the shoot.”
“Ugh, Dean, you’re my brother! I don’t really want to be talking about this kind of stuff with you!” Clem pulled a face, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder. “Nor do I want you thinking about me like that.”
“Oh, Clem, as if.” Dean sighed heavily, exaggerating it for the cameras. “We’ve managed to get Cordelia Lyons to agree to photograph it, which is a definite coup.”
Clem pretended to think about it, poring over the sketches. After a few minutes, she looked up. “Why not? After all, it wouldn’t hurt to get in front of the lens for once.” She laughed, considering the irony.
“Great, I’ll speak with Cordelia and sort out dates.”
“And, cut!” The director paused. “Great stuff, guys. Clem, can we take a closer look at those drawings?” He quirked an eyebrow.
“No you cannot, you perv!” Clem turned them face down on the table, grinning. “If you’re good, I’ll let you come along to the photoshoot.”
“Er, no you won’t,” said Dean. “It will be a closed set.”
“Closed even for you,” replied Clem. “Like I said, you can’t think of me like that.” She shuddered.
The crew began to dismantle their equipment and shortly afterwards headed off. Dean, James and Polly remained.
“Right, now that farce is over, can we get on?” said James. “I want to go over the budgets for the next quarter.”
As he began to speak, Clem managed to keep engaged enough to appease her brother, although her attention was already back on the evening’s events. She couldn’t wait to get out of there.
Just over an hour later, she was allowed to leave. Dean had given her a whole heap of things to do and she stuffed the papers into her bag, without taking any interest in them. She called Leona, who although wasn’t coming along to the PA that night, was helping her to find a killer outfit.
“Can you be at my place in about half an hour?” Clem tried to balance the phone, her bag and the portfolio with the lingerie pictures in and lost it all, her phone crashing to the floor. “Shit!” She bent down to retrieve the device and saw it had a large crack across the screen, although appeared to be functional. “Leona? Are you still there?” There was nothing, except a message that was barely visible, which read looking forward to seeing you tonight, Nx. A smile spread across Clem’s features. That was exactly how she felt.
It was close to ten thirty by the time Clem was in an Uber on her way to the Windsor nightclub, along with two of the other members of Pretty Rich Things: Bryon Thom the restauranteur, who seemed to fancy her and was always trying to persuade her to go out with him, like he did every to other woman within touching distance; and Finola Bright, the health and lifestyle guru who made a mint out of anti-ageing products. Clem wasn’t particularly keen on either of them. Finola didn’t drink for a start, so these appearances made little sense for her, and Byron could be a real lech. She hoped that Nate would be waiting for her.
“Bet there will be some right sorts there tonight,” said Byron. He squeezed Clem’s knee and she reflexively pulled away. “I don’t know why we haven’t been out together before now.”
“I do,” said Clem. “Because you’re a bit of a dick.”
Byron laughed. “You haven’t seen my dick.”
Clem fixed him with a look that would make any other man wither. “Trust me. I have no wish to.”
The other side of her, Finola snorted. She rarely made conversation with them when they were out as a group, looking down her nose as they drank and ate unhealthily—in her opinion. However, Clem knew that she shared the same viewpoint when it came to Byron.
“Ah, I’m sure I can change your mind,” said Byron.
The sigh Clem let out didn’t seem to deter him and he placed his hand on her knee again. “For fuck’s sake, Byron, stop pawing me!”
The car lurched forward and Byron lost his grip, almost sliding to the floor. Clem met the gaze of the driver and he winked at her. She smiled back at him. At least someone had her back. Her phone vibrated with a message from the promoter, wanting an ETA from her. She fired back that they weren’t far. As she was about to put her phone back into her bag, she thought of something and messaged the promoter again, asking him to find Nate and take him to the VIP area. From what little she knew of him, she was sure that Vanilla wouldn’t be his usual hangout.
“Will you be able to make my next product launch party next week?” asked Finola.
The thought of hanging out with a bunch of gluten-free teetotallers didn’t fill Clem with joy. However, part of the deal with Pretty Rich Things was to support the other cast members with their ventures and she knew that if Finola wore one of the Stelle D’Oro t-shirts for one of her social media videos, the sell-through would be immense. D
ean would never forgive her if she didn’t go.
Clem made a big thing of looking at the calendar on her phone. “Yeah, looks like it will be fine. If you send me all the details, I’ll make sure I’m there.”
Finola beamed.
“Am I invited?” asked Byron.
As Finola’s eyes skimmed Byron’s body from head to toe, Clem stifled a giggle. He was the last person that would be welcome at a skincare launch party, with his puffy eyes and chubby, red cheeks; the results of eating and drinking too much in the name of ‘research’ for his restaurant.
“I’m not sure you’re the audience we’re going for with this product,” she said, her tone even.
Byron shrugged. “No probs. I’m guessing there won’t be much food there, anyway.”
The driver pulled the car up right outside the club and Clem could see there was still a relatively healthy queue out the front. She was never sure if that was usual or whether it was because they were there.
Byron clapped his hands together and gave her a sloppy kiss on the cheek. “Let’s do this!”
Clem wiped his spittle off with the back of her hand and prayed that Nate would be there to rescue her.
Chapter Eight
The other people in the queue outside Vanilla nightclub didn’t seem to recognise him and Nate was grateful for that. One look at the clientele told him that this wasn’t his tribe and he pulled his leather jacket around him, trying to hide.
The conversation with Alik played on his mind. The two of them had been friends a long time and Nate couldn’t ever remember a time when they had been anything other than supportive of one another over their choice of women. He knew Edie Spencer-Newman fucked his best mate over, but he’d thought she was a one-off. How could he draw so many comparisons with someone he hadn’t even met? Putting it out of his thoughts for the time being, Nate thrust his hands in his pockets and wondered how much longer Clem would be.