by Julie Archer
“Nate! Finally.” Alik appeared centre stage and waved at him, guitar slung around his own body. “Come get ready.”
Nate turned to Clem. “There’s a table in the VIP area that’s reserved, so why don’t you settle down there? I’m sure the others will be here soon, and you can get to know them.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I’ll see you later.”
As she walked away, he watched her with a pang of guilt. He’d rushed the end of their meal and now she had to sit alone for who knew how long until the others arrived. Although Alik’s shout from the stage to get his arse in gear soon quashed that thought.
No matter how many times they played, Nate always got the same buzz as he did from the early days. A mixture of excitement and apprehension. What if something went wrong? What if he forgot the chords? He knew that as soon as the lights went down, and Dev counted them in, all those thoughts dissipated, and he enjoyed the moment when the music took over. Tonight, Clem was seeing that for the first time.
His beloved Les Paul was set up on the stage already. While the sound guy may have been new, the techs who supported them knew exactly how he liked things. He slung the strap over his head and settled the guitar into position, playing the riff to ‘Sweet Child O’ Mine’ as a warm-up. He glanced over at Clem. She was engrossed in her phone, and barely lifted her head at the sound of his guitar.
“You wanna run through Bleed Like Cyanide?” suggested Alik. “Make sure the levels are right?”
Richey and Dev had joined them on stage, both ready to play.
“Sure, let’s do it.”
Alik gestured to the sound booth and waved Dev in.
The moment Dev’s sticks hit four, Nate was on it. His fingers flew up and down the fretboard as his other hand plucked expertly at the strings. It was one of their oldest songs, and their most popular. The one that had cemented their place in the music world. It never got old, and they frequently messed around with it, changing the tuning, trying it acoustically, swapping out Alik’s vocals for Richey’s. It was the one song where Nate could lose himself, shutting out everything around him. He would never get tired of that feeling. Despite the hassle Alik had given him about getting there, as soon as he hit the stage, the showman within him appeared and he didn’t want to do anything else.
Suddenly, he knew he wanted Clem to witness him playing more than ever.
Chapter Fourteen
Clem sat alone at the table, nursing a large gin and tonic, in the VIP area that Nate had pointed out to her. The bar around her was beginning to fill up and she felt like a total loser being there on her own. Several people glanced in her direction, no doubt wondering what she’d done to get a front row seat; however no-one bothered her. It was a slight surprise not to be recognised or asked for a selfie. Looking around the assembled audience, she doubted that many of them, if any, watched Pretty Rich Things or read the gossip magazines.
When Leona had bailed on her, Clem had second thoughts about even going to North Ridge. It wasn’t somewhere she knew much about, despite it only being less than half an hour outside of London. Being there on her own, in an environment she didn’t know, filled her with dread. Nate told her that Poppy and the other wives and girlfriends would be there, but she didn’t know them at all. If Leona had been there, it would have been easier. She desperately wanted to see Nate play, so she had to be brave and go it alone. Her favourite Uber driver had already been warned she might need a lift home later, and he’d agreed to be on standby for her.
After they’d had food and walked over to the club, Nate had disappeared onto the stage and she’d heard some warming up or getting ready or something. Trying to stay out of the way, she had ignored everything he’d done up until that point.
A commotion caught her attention behind her, and someone jostled her elbow, spilling her gin all over the table. Liquid dripped onto her suede skirt and she frantically scrubbed at it with a napkin.
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t see you there.”
Clem turned towards the owner of the voice, a pretty redhead, dressed in black skinny jeans, a simple white top and killer heels, instantly recognising her from the pictures she’d seen of the woman who was Nate’s ex. Poppy McKenna.
“Hi, Poppy. I’m Clem.” She stood up and forced a smile.
Poppy’s gaze took her in from top to toe. Clem almost withered under the intensity. It was like being around Anastasia again.
“Yes, I’m aware of who you are.” Her tone was frosty, and she turned back to the other women with her, excluding Clem from the conversation.
Clem flinched at Poppy’s rudeness. From what Nate had told her, they hadn’t been together for a while and Poppy was already with someone else. She couldn’t understand why Poppy would have an issue with her.
One of the others moved around to be next to her. “Can I get you another drink?” she asked, gesturing to Clem’s empty glass. She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Sorry about that, Poppy’s always been a little clumsy. I’m Eva, Richey’s girlfriend.” The brunette’s expression was warm, the polar opposite to Poppy’s.
“Thanks, that would be great. I feel I’m going to need it.”
Eva linked her arm through Clem’s. “Come to the bar with me.”
They threaded their way through the crowd and waited to be served.
“It can be a minefield when you first meet the others,” Eva admitted. “Caro and Poppy have been close friends for ages and they’re a bit wary of newcomers.” She paused. “There were some issues in the past with a girlfriend of Alik’s causing a whole heap of drama, and I think they’re wary of new people. The first time I met Caro, I was petrified. She had everything, and I basically had the clothes I stood in, no job and no future.”
Covertly, Clem took the opportunity to appraise Eva. She looked put together, casually dressed, and carrying a Balenciaga handbag. There was nothing to show she was anything other than a confident woman. “How did you get them to accept you?”
“I guess I was lucky. I’d been friends with Poppy a while back and she took me in when I needed her most. She and Nate weren’t together then, and I’d split up with someone, so I wasn’t interested in getting involved in another relationship.” She laughed. “Although never tell Richey that!”
“You weren’t a threat to her.” Clem realised that was the issue.
“I never thought of it like that, but I guess that’s true.” Eva waved at the barman and got drinks for them both. “Here, get this down you. I’m sure you and Poppy will be besties in no time.”
As she caught Poppy glaring across the room at them, Clem thought it most unlikely.
While waiting for the band to begin, Clem carried on chatting to Eva. When Poppy went to the bathroom, Eva introduced her to Caro, the owner of The Indigo Lounge, and Yulia, who was the drummer’s girlfriend. Both of them were polite, but as soon as Poppy returned, they both went back to talking to her. Poppy made no further attempt to speak to her.
Shortly after nine, the lights dimmed and Blood Stone Riot took to the stage. The crowd, obviously used to seeing the band play, roared in anticipation. Eva pulled Clem up and they stood at the edge of the VIP area.
The man on the stage was definitely not the man Clem had met at the wedding. Nate strutted about the stage as if he owned it, handling his guitar like a weapon. As the music began, Clem lost herself in the moment. Blood Stone Riot’s sound was far removed from her usual choice, but there was something about it—and the band—that drew her in. Her eyes never left Nate as the set went on. She watched his fingers racing up and down the neck of his instrument. For an instant, she wished she were the guitar and Nate was playing her like that. A tingle shot between her legs and she pressed her thighs together to try to alleviate the feeling.
“He’s good, isn’t he?” Eva whispered in her ear.
Incapable of anything more, Clem nodded in response, unable to tear herself away. The set went on, and Clem was unaware of anything else except Nate. His t-shirt was soaked
through with sweat from the effort he put in, and clinging to his muscular chest.
“You see that?” Poppy’s voice broke into her reverie. She was pointing at the very front of the crowd. “Those girls there? They’ll be hanging around afterwards, waiting for a photo opportunity, a selfie with their very favourite guitar player. And Nate, being the obliging kind of person he is, will agree to all of them. When one of them flashes her tits for him to sign or slips him her number, do you think he’ll remember you’re up here waiting for him?”
“Poppy,” warned Eva. “You’re not being fair.”
“Aren’t I?” Poppy raised her eyebrows. “I think I’ve been around this band long enough to know what goes on afterwards, don’t you?”
“Nate’s not like that.” Clem protested, despite the uneasy feeling in her stomach brought on by Poppy’s words.
“You and he have been together, what? A week or so? If he can fuck his wife over by shagging around with a groupie when he was on tour, then don’t expect him to bring you flowers, sweetheart.”
“That’s enough,” snapped Eva. “Poppy, leave the girl alone. She’s done nothing to warrant that.”
“I think I should go.” Clem grabbed her bag, fumbling to find her phone and call the Uber driver.
Eva stopped her. “You don’t have to do that. Poppy’s only having a bit of fun. Stay, have another drink, and wait to see Nate.”
“Nate was the one who was always having fun. Leaving me at home to hold the baby, literally.” Poppy drained the last of her wine. “Who do you have to sleep with to get a refill round here?” She waved her empty glass around, narrowly missing clunking it on the side of Clem’s head. “Oh, wait, sleeping with the guitarist ought to get you somewhere.”
Deep down, Clem knew that Poppy was only being so harsh because she was drunk. It didn’t stop her comments stinging any less though. Despite the fact she really wanted to see Nate after the gig, to tell him how amazing he was, she couldn’t stand being around his ex any longer. Grateful for Eva’s support, she turned to her newfound ally.
“Thanks for tonight, Eva. It’s been lovely to meet you. You too, Caro and Yulia. Hope to see you again.” Before she left, she faced Poppy. “Shame I can’t say the same thing about you.”
Chapter Fifteen
It wasn’t usual for Dean to ask Clem to meet him for a drink. They chatted over email, message, calls and in face-to-face meetings when things were too important not to see the whites of the other’s eyes. She was pretty sure that everything was fine with the business. Okay, she may have neglected it a little since getting together with Nate, but Dean would have let her know if there were any problems. Just in case he quizzed her about anything, she quickly read through the latest emails he’d sent.
It was a couple of days before her shoot with Cordelia Lyons, so Clem assumed it was going to be to do with that. She had already arranged to see Nate later after the whole gig debacle, and they were meeting in Smith’s again. Rather than trek across town, she suggested that Dean join her there first.
He was already waiting for her, nursing half a pint of lager. Given that his drink of choice was usually a fine red, something serious must be up.
“Hey, Dean, how are you?” Clem leaned down to kiss him on both cheeks just as he stood up and they clashed awkwardly somewhere in between.
“Snowed under, as always, but good. What do you want to drink?” He smoothed down his suit, back in big brother mode.
“A large Chablis, please.” Clem dropped her bag on the floor and sank down into the chair opposite her brother. She reached into her bag for her phone and spotted a message from Nate telling her he was on his way. A smile crept across her face as she replied.
Dean returned with her drink and another half of San Miguel. He sat down again, fiddling with one of the beer mats.
“What is it?” said Clem, getting straight to the point. “Is there a problem with Cordelia?”
Her brother shook his head. “That’s all fine. She’s really looking forward to it. The hotel’s all booked and she’s got a crew in place. You’ve sorted the hair and make-up artists, right?”
“Yes, all done. I’ve gone with the usual crew.” Clem made a mental note to check in with them as soon as Dean had gone, to confirm the final details. “If it’s not that, then what?”
“This guy you’re seeing. He’s quite a bit older than you, isn’t he?”
“Nate? He’s almost thirty. I wouldn’t call that quite a bit older than me.”
“And he doesn’t exactly…” Dean paused. “Move in the same circles as we do.”
Clem laughed. “He’s the guitarist in a rock band, which means, no, unless you’ve got a musical hobby that none of the rest of us know about, he doesn’t.” That was actually one of the things that Clem found refreshing about Nate. The fact he wasn’t part of the same group that she’d known for pretty much all her life, meant they had other things to talk about. She loved hearing about Blood Stone Riot’s tours and the stories of being on the road. Of course, she realised that Nate was giving her the PG version and wasn’t necessarily telling her the full extent of some of the shenanigans. He didn’t want to paint himself as a total tart, obviously. She spotted the concerned look on Dean’s face. “What’s wrong with that?”
“I’ve been talking to Mummy, and she’s, well, she’s a little worried about it. She’s not sure he’s good enough for you.”
Ah, so that was it. Marika Cameron couldn’t bear to see her youngest daughter apparently slumming it with someone who wasn’t earning six figures and didn’t have a house in the country. They’d never discussed money although it was clear from the fact Nate was supporting his ex-wife and daughter well that he wasn’t struggling. Even if he did rent a flat from his bandmate. It took all of Clem’s willpower not to roll her eyes at her brother.
“Are you serious?”
“Would I joke about something like this? You know how she gets.”
It reminded Clem of the time she’d told her mother she was taking spring break at Venice Beach one year, rather than Laguna Beach. Marika had been horrified in any case when she heard about what went on during these vacations. The thought of her daughter not going to the most popular and fashionable resort had filled her with revulsion and she had initially forbidden her to go. There had been many times when Clem was relieved that there were five and a half thousand miles and a good eleven hour flight between them. What Marika didn’t know, didn’t hurt her.
“Why didn’t she talk to me herself if she’s that annoyed about it?” Clem took a big slug of her wine. She felt like she needed it.
“She’s worried about your reputation.” Dean paused. “And she doesn’t want you to end up like Edie Spencer-Newman.”
“Who?” The name rang a vague bell in Clem’s head and she remembered that Edie had been on Pretty Rich Things.
“Why don’t you ask Nate?” Dean waved over Clem’s shoulder and she turned to see Nate striding towards them.
She smiled, noting the heads that turned as he walked through the bar. He was dressed in skinny black trousers, a black t-shirt and a blue denim jacket. His blond hair was scruffily untidy and his eyes were covered with dark glasses, which he pushed back on his head as he got closer.
Nate bent down and kissed Clem on the cheek. He looked quizzically at Dean then back at Clem. “Er, hi?”
“Nate, this is my brother, Dean. He’s one of the main investors in Stelle D’Oro and doesn’t play guitar.”
“Dean, hello. Good to meet you.” Nate held out his hand and Dean shook it stiffly. “I’ll get us some drinks in, shall I?”
“Not me, thanks, Nate. I’ve got to head off.” Dean stood up. “Remember what I said, Clem. I’ll be in touch before the shoot.”
Clem watched his retreating back, reeling from the things he’d said. Worried about her reputation? Nate being too old for her? What on earth was that all about? Nate had already gone to the bar and she picked up her phone, debating whether to co
nfront her mother now. She sighed and put it back down. What would she say anyway?
It took Nate a few minutes to get back from the bar. A couple of guys recognised him and he’d already told her he always felt he had to speak to fans. That it wouldn’t be good form to get a bad rep. Something her mother apparently agreed with. Although apparently it had been drummed into him by his manager, Parker Roberts, rather than his mother.
“Sorry,” he said, when he finally returned with their drinks and sat down. “What happened to you last night after the gig? I looked for you, but Eva said you’d already gone. I thought you were going to come back to mine? And you didn’t answer my messages?”
Clem bit her lip. She didn’t really want to tell Nate how much Poppy had upset her the previous evening. She didn’t want to make it bigger than it needed to be. But he needed to know. Particularly if they were going to carry on seeing each other.
“I met the rest of the girls. Poppy too. She, um, said some things.”
Nate set his pint down on the table. “What did she say?”
It was difficult for Clem to meet Nate’s gaze. She focused on a point out of the window as she spoke. “How you’d be more interested in some random groupie than me. And I shouldn’t expect you to be waiting for me after a gig.”
“She said what?” Nate screwed his face up. “Christ, I’m sorry, Clem. I had no idea. When I saw her last night, she didn’t mention anything.”
Of course she didn’t, thought Clem. She wouldn’t want to be seen as anything other than the wronged ex.
“You shouldn’t have left though. I thought you didn’t want to see me.”
“I did. I wanted to tell you how brilliant you were and how much I enjoyed watching you play. You know I’m not a massive music fan, but I think you might have changed my mind.”
The corner of Nate’s mouth quirked. “That’s good to hear. You don’t hate me then?”
“Anything but.” Clem was still bothered by Poppy’s attitude, though chose not to pursue it. She reached over and covered Nate’s hand with her own.