The Rock 'N' the Roll. 'N That

by Steven J. Gill

  Before that there was the small matter of a friends and family gig/party Johnny had sorted to celebrate the signing of the record deal.

  Their fucking record deal!

  He kept having to pinch himself that the flurry of emails that he was fielding were for him. Not some bollocks from head office regarding a new health and safety procedure that he would need to implement on behalf of the company’s employees or some such shite.

  The gig was to be for friends and family and a select handful of fans who had been invited via the band’s website. Talking of which, Johnny thought, the old site had now been taken down and was being overhauled at the record companies expense. All happening.

  He had booked The Deaf Institute – a very cool club cum gig venue in the heart of studentsville - and was currently fielding various guestlist requests from the band. Johnny was bringing his closest friends along. The texts had been sent out with a ‘See I told you x’ at the end. Always the last word…

  ***

  “I think she’s back, bro. Hurry up!”

  Hurtling down stairs, Dom jumped over the back of the sofa and assumed a crashed-out position to convince that he had been idling there for some time.

  The front door opened and Cally smiled widely at the sight of her two sons, lazing carefree on the sofa whilst a Spaghetti Western played out to its bloody conclusion in the background.

  “Hiya boys. You okay? Looking forward to tonight?” Putting her shopping bags down, she said, “I can’t wait! I’m so proud of you both.” She rubbed them both on the tops of their heads over the back of the sofa. “I’m beat after a day’s shopping though. Got myself a lovely new top for tonight though. Got to look my best for my two favourite rock stars.”

  Jamie leaned back and looked over his shoulder. “Hiya Mum. We’re good thanks. Just been chillin’ out before tonight,” he replied, feigning disinterest.

  “You should go and try it on upstairs. Let’s have a look at it on,” said Dom kindly, but then wincing slightly as his brother kicked him with a bare foot.

  “Ooh I will,” shrilled Cally, “Give me a minute.”

  Throwing a daggers look across at his twin, Jamie whispered crossly, “I thought we were going to tell her and then let her go and see the upstairs.”

  Shrugging his shoulders and yawning without covering his mouth, he said, “Yeah well. I changed my mind,” adding cockily, “She’ll love it. You’ll see.”

  Bang on cue, there was a surprised scream from upstairs. “What’s happened to my room?” A quick dart across the landing, and another scream. “WHAT HAVE YOU TWO DONE WITH MY ROOM?”

  “You best come down Mum, I’ll stick the kettle on,” Jamie said, slightly concerned at how she was going to take this.

  “You best sit down,” Dom gestured towards the empty sofa.

  She perched on the edge of the sofa with a confused look on her face and her hands held to her throat.

  Returning to the front room and rubbing at a rogue paint spot on the back of his hand, Jamie said, “We’ve moved your all stuff back into the main bedroom. Turned it back into a proper room again. For you.” Taking a deep breath, he added, “Me and Dom are moving out. We’ve rented apartments in town. In the same block. Not far from Johnny actually.”

  He saw the look of resigned disappointment etched on their mum’s face. Leaping up and sitting next to her, Dom put a reassuring arm around her. “We’ve been talking and we’re going to be away so much. It’d be only fair for you to have the bigger room to yourself again.”

  Putting her freshly manicured hands up to Dom’s face, she said, “Oh I know. I know. But I’ll miss you both so much.” Her eyes filled with well-meant tears. “My boys. Leaving me.” Rubbing at her eyes gently, she said, “I know why. You can’t have boys in a band living with their old mum.” Doing an endearing little combined laugh sniffle, she said, “You best come and visit me whenever you’re home!”

  “Dom’ll be straight round with his washing every week,” teased Jamie.

  “Cheeky twat! I won’t.” Looking at his mum imploringly, he said, “I won’t and he’s just as bad!”

  “See! This is what I’ll miss. You two making me laugh.”

  Adopting a serious tone, Jamie held his mum’s hand. “Honestly, we’ll miss you as well. But we need our own space.” He pulled her by the hand. “Come and have a proper look upstairs.”

  Cally took in the fruits of the boys’ - and some willing friends - labours. The room divide had been knocked down and the walls painted a delicate shade of linen. Her double bed and furniture were now spread out as they were intended. A new duvet cover to match the room’s muted colours sat crisply on the bed, and a newly purchased rug sat at the foot of the bed in front of the pine dresser.

  “Have you had one of those home makeover teams off the tele here today? It looks lovely.” Letting out a stifled sob, she said, “Oh come here you two!” She hugged her boys into her sides. “I’m the luckiest mum in the world having you two. And I’m going to have to share you now you’re going to be famous. I don’t know how happy I am about that!”

  ***

  The Deaf Institute was regarded as one of Manchester’s coolest venues. They were playing in the room on the top floor which was tastefully decorated with black and white flock wallpaper. A huge mirrorball dominated the centre of the ceiling.

  ‘Grown-up rock ’n’ roll chic’ was how Johnny had always described the place. A couple of hundred or so people would fill the room nicely, and still leave people room to get to the all-important bar. He’d stuck a couple of grand behind the bar as a gesture – an unlimited free tab would have resulted in numerous hollow-legged Mancunians leaving him facing a five-figure bar bill.

  As Johnny checked his phone, he glanced out of the window of the venue and saw Danny pull up in a black cab, race round to the other side and open the door for his now girlfriend. He and Dee - short for Denise - had been going steady for a couple of months. His new oft repeated mantra was, “I can’t believe how fuckin’ fit she is!” Which was inevitably met with, “Neither can we…”

  A good-natured gig was lapped up by the crowd. The band mingled afterwards amid much backslapping and well wishing. Cally seemed a little overwhelmed by proceedings. All the attention being lavished on her boys was a little too much for her. A combination of disbelief and trepidation of their unknown future. A reassuring word from Johnny seemed to help. “They’ll be fine. They’re more than ready for this. I’d stake my life on it,” he offered in calming tones.

  “I know,” she replied in her quiet melodic tone. “It’s just such a big thing. It’ll never be the same again.” Looking up at him with a doleful look in her eyes, she said, “You know they’ve already moved out?”

  “I did. I did,” he replied, putting a reassuring hand on her elbow. “And look what they did with your room.” He glanced over at the twins who were chatting with a group of friends. “They care so much about you, honestly. And I’ll always look out for them. Watch their back. Promise.”

  Making a cross your heart sign, Johnny hugged Cal reassuringly, her fragrant smell enchanting him. As he pulled away, he put a hand gently to her cheek. “They’ll be fine. It could all just get a bit mad and that…”

  “Thanks Johnny. I know I’m being daft. I’m glad you care so much. Makes me feel much better,” Cal replied solemnly.

  “Anyhow you enjoy tonight. Get yourself a drink and I’ll catch up later.” He spotted Simon, the photographer. “In fact. Gimme a minute.”

  Hurrying over to Simon, who had been photographing the band during their set, he said, “Hi mate. Good to see you. Would you mind taking a few pics for me?” Guiding Simon over to the brothers, he signalled for Cally to come across. “Simon. Cally. Cally. Simon. He’ll take a few pictures of you all together.”

  Jamie saw the look of delight in his mum’s eyes, and hugged Johnny, kissing him on the cheek. “Thanks man, you do know how to do the right thing at the right time.”

  “No
worries J. And yeah. Most of the time. Most of the time man…”

  In the small smoking terrace at the rear of the venue, the course of true love was starting to manifest for Danny.

  As they shared a cigarette – the ultimate romantic gesture – Dee looked up at him and teased his hair into place. “You looked so good up there tonight baby. Proper little pop star I’ve got me.”

  Clearing his throat, he said, “Err, rock star please! I’m not like those fuckin’ fakes you get on X-Factor!”

  “SORRY! Get you. Rock star. Either way. I’m dead happy. But I’ll miss you when you’re away so much.”

  And then came the inevitable ‘on the road caveat’.

  “And you won’t look at any other girls when you’re away will you. It’s just you and me now baby.” She was clearly looking to test Dan’s intents of fidelity.

  With an anguished look, he said, “BABE! I wouldn’t even look at another girl.” Stumbling over his next words, he added, “Y’know how I feel, don’t ya?”

  “Do I?” she enquired knowingly.

  He rattled his next sentence out as quickly as he could. “Y’know I love yer.” Staring at her for a reaction, he repeated, “I fuckin’ love you!”

  “OH DANNY!” she squealed. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me. And I trust you one million percent!”

  Sealing the moment with a long deep kiss, Danny then pulled out his last cigarette. “See, better than a Rolo, I’d share my last cig with you!”

  Clasping her hands together and raising her right foot up slightly behind her, she said, “Oh Danny. I love you too.”

  As the planets aligned themselves for him, Danny inhaled deeply and blew out a long, contented plume of smoke.

  A rock star. He was going to be a bona fide, real deal, genuine article motherfuckin’rock star. And he still couldn’t believe how fit she was…

  Chapter 24

  “Oh, you dirty bastard!” said Dom, visibly appalled.

  “What?” replied Danny indignantly.

  “That, you dirty bastard, is your third scotch egg of the day,” he added with a disgusted pull off his face.

  “Well. We’re in Scotland. When in Scotchland…”

  “HAHA! He’s got a point,” laughed Mikee whilst sat on the open door of their graffitied RV/tourbus - demolishing a Big Mac in three bites.

  “Dunno what you’re laughing at Kong. You’re sharing with him. He’ll have breadcrumb coated shits at this rate, “sniggered Dom.

  “Sorry Dom, forgot how you love your health food,” said Mikee, pouring the rest of the fries down his neck.

  He held out the sandwich box he had just opened. “Ham salad. On brown bread. And a bottle of water,” Dom added smugly.

  The first date of the tour was the furthest north and Johnny was beginning to wish they had done it with an overnight stop. They were four hours, two hundred and thirty miles and two service station stops down. And he was flagging. As he drained the caffeine-laced Red Bull, he stared across the car park wide eyed to revitalise himself for the remaining two hundred and odd miles.

  Having sorted the accommodation himself, he had booked single rooms where cost wasn’t prohibitive. For approximately half the stops, the band would be sharing rooms, but Johnny was affording himself the luxury of a single each night. There was a line to be drawn and sharing with them was most resolutely it.

  “Right, chuck your shit away and let’s crack on. Mikee, you can ride shotgun now. Your turn to keep me company.”

  In a very grown up and futile attempt to keep the RV clean and comparatively decent smelling, Johnny had insisted that all food is eaten outside of the four wheels. Only drinks and sweets/chocolate/crisps were permitted, and all rubbish was to be put in a bin bag on the back seat.

  He’d felt like an overbearing school teacher when laying down the rules, but felt that some semblance of order was needed.

  A further two stops and another nourishing scotch egg for Dan – he really was taking the Scottish national dish to heart. Jamie had convinced him that scotch eggs were laid by the Haggis Bird – indigenous to Scotland – which seemed a perfectly plausible explanation to Danny.

  The miles rolled by. Mikee slept. Jamie busied himself writing lyrics. Dom was engrossed in his iPad and Danny provided a running commentary on everything and anything. Like a human sat nav-cum-traffic control-cum-weatherman. He’d even bought his passport along for when they crossed into Scotland. The tight bastards.

  The Granite City. Unflinchingly cold and austere.

  Arriving at The Lemon Tree, the band were faced with an inauspicious looking flat fronted granite-stone building.

  “Fuck me it’s freezing,” Dom whinged as a blast of icy North Sea wind pierced his denim jacket. “Get us inside Johnny, it’s fucking cold!”

  “Grab the gear. I’m not leaving it all in the bus. Get a whisky down you. That’ll warm your bones.”

  Grumbling as he grabbed his guitar case and amp, Dominic led the way, a not particularly endearing scowl on his face.

  They were greeted by the promoter’s rep, Alastair, a shaven headed stocky Scot, wearing a Prodigy tour T-shirt and cargo shorts. Dumping his gear down grumpily, Dom looked Alastair up and down. “MAN, you must be fuckin’ mental dressing like that. It’s fuckin’ arctic out there!”

  “Nice to meet you as well,” Alastair grinned good-naturedly. “And this is warm, my soft Southern friend.”

  “WARM!” Dom exclaimed. “Remind me never to come ’ere on holiday.”

  Clearly used to temperature based outburst from bands, Alastair added, “And remind me again why we want independence from you soft shites…” His rebuttal taking the wind out of Dom’s chilly sails.

  They were guided through to the diminutive backstage dressing room. “Butterfly Caught have finished their soundcheck and gone back to their hotel. Stage is all yours now. Gig’s not sold too bad. About 350 tickets. About three quarter full. Get the crowd going and you’ll be grand.”

  An efficiently tight soundcheck left the band with two hours to kill before showtime. Not time enough to go back and grab some well required sleep. Nor time to get too pissed.

  A cursory walk round some local shops had resulted in the purchase of the mandatory cigarettes and energy drinks but Danny had excelled himself. Having grasped the concept of ‘per diem’ – grown up spends, as Johnny had settled on – he had purchased a Tam O’Shanter, which he proudly announced he would wear for the Scottish dates, figuring that this would endear him to the crowd. And not at all like a patronising English twat…

  ***

  The set was largely uneventful. Tight but the band’s long northbound trek had left them tired and a little rusty. A crowd of seventy or so pseudo-disaffected Scottish youths were nonplussed by proceedings until the last three songs when there was some sporadic jumping up and down. The donning of the Scottish headwear for the last song earned Danny a hollered, “Ya look a cunt. A big nosed cunt,” from an affronted Scot.

  Clearly underwhelmed by their performance, the band sat around sulkily in the dressing room whilst Butterfly Caught played their set of psychedelic stoner rock. Common courtesy should have dictated that they go and catch the headliners’ set, first night and all that, but they - especially Dom - were too tired and tetchy in no mood for pleasantries.

  “What the fuck was that hat all about, D-Mo? You did look a right cunt,” said Dominic with a surly tone.

  Looking wounded, Danny said, “Thought they’d appreciate it. No sense of humour, these Jocks.”

  Jamie, who had been sat stoically restringing his guitar, said, “We’ve had a long day. We didn’t play at our best. Edinburgh tomorrow. Let’s get a drink and then turn it in and be bang up for tomorrow.”

  Regarding his brother with a frown, Dom said, “Come on J, we’re on tour for fuck’s sake. Least we can do is get pissed. Those are the first fuckin’ rules of the rock ‘n’ the roll, aren’t they?”

  “Suit yourself Dom, I’m done.
Don’t wake me when you get back…”

  “Whatever,” Dom snapped, the exertions of the day manifesting itself with his outburst of churlish irritability.

  “I’ll be up for a few beers, Dom,” said Mikee, lazily stretching out a yawn.

  Danny, still wounded by the heckle, was busy texting Dee. Thinking that an early night on their first day on the road would appease her concerns, he said, “Nah, I’m done in as well. Johnny said there’s loads to see in Edinburgh and some decent boozers so I’m gonna do that.”

  Snorting unattractively, Dom said, “Fuck’s sake D-Mo! You’re gonna go sight-seeing with Johnny? Very rock ’n’ roll…”

  Turning to Danny - who was now torn as to whether to submit to a night’s drinking - Jamie said matter-of-factly, “You can share with me then tonight if these two are going partying.”

  “Yeah, cheers J, I might go for a few though. Not sure yet.”

  “Lightweights,” grunted Dom.

  ***

  The short hop to Edinburgh was made in relatively good spirits. Dom and Mikee had been unable to locate anywhere that resembled a party. That and a combination of a cold late-winter’s night had forced a tail between their legs return to the hotel at just before midnight.

  A good night’s sleep had left Dom far less tetchy, but even more resolute to enjoy himself that evening. “Fuck all to do in Aberdeen last night. But I’m having it big tonight.” Tapping Johnny on the shoulder from the rear passenger seat, he said, “You said Edinburgh was a decent night out didn’t you?”

  Glancing behind briefly, Johnny said, “Yeah, it’s a superb place. Never not had a good time there. Crowd will be better tonight as well.”

  With the ubiquitous service station negotiated for breakfast, Johnny decided that a pub lunch would be a welcome treat as they would be seeing more than enough FriedKingMacBurgerChicken places between now and home…

  ***

  An energised band and a far livelier crowd lead to a high-spirited dressing room. Beers were snapped open as they toasted the success of the Edinburgh gig. A confident set had been delivered – Danny wisely dispensing with his Scottish headwear. Or more accurately it was now floating in the River Forth as Jamie had sent the hat to watery grave as they were passing over the Forth Bridge.