***
Sleep came quickly to him, but Johnny woke with a start at 6.30am when his door was banged loudly. Upon opening it, he was met by a total stranger, clearly the worse for wear. “You seen Donna?”
“No mate, I haven’t wrong room…”
Closing the door and mumbling, “Fuckin’ dick,” to himself, Johnny flopped onto the bed but as his hangover was now here long and loud, he couldn’t sleep. Tossing restlessly did him no favours and he decided some bracing sea air and watching the sun come up would be the perfect remedy.
Throwing on a hoodie, jeans and trainers, he headed out of the hotel for the seafront. Grabbing a bottle of water from a kiosk, he wandered across the road to a flight of weather beaten stone steps that led down to the stony beach.
The beach was completely deserted, and he took a not too comfortable perch and stared out at the sea’s grey blue constant motion. Seagulls the size of small dogs waltzed in and out of the tide, squawking apparent grievances at each other.
As he looked out at the half-tangerine orb that was lazily addressing the new day, Johnny felt a tap on his shoulder; turning around sharply, he was met by the band.
“What you are doing sat here like a weirdo?” Danny asked, bottle of Becks clutched in one hand. Ubiquitous cigarette blazing in the other.
“Picking up boys! What the fuck did you think I’d be doing?”
Joining him on his stony pew, the band sat in a line, Dom shielding his eyes from the semi-glare of the sun, Danny and Mikee resplendent in shades. With his legs stretched out in front of him, Jamie yawned noisily.
Looking at each member of the band in turn, Johnny smiled. “It’ll never be the same again once this all kicks off. No more nights getting pissed and no-one knowing who you are.” He paused as he drained the bottle of water. “It’ll get like you won’t be able to go anywhere. This could get fuckin’ huge.” Putting his arms around Mikee and Jamie who were sat nearest to him, he said, “This is gonna be some fuckin’ ride. You all ready for it?”
With stoic nods, the band looked out at the horizon, individually imagining the possibilities. All was quiet until Danny broke the silence with the ultimate cliché. “I was fuckin’ born for this! Course we’re fuckin’ ready!”
He and Kong exchanged fist-bumps. Dominic inhaled on the last of his cigarette before flicking the dimp in the direction of a inquisitive seagull, as if earwigging into a world that it would never comprehend. “I can’t fuckin’ wait, Johnny!”
Only Jamie seemed reflective in a deeper, more serious demeanour.
He was about to speak when Dom spotted a passing early morning dog-walker. “’Scuse me mate, would you mind taking a picture?” The five of them, wide-eyed and shivering against the bitter sea air huddled together for the snap. A perfect moment perfectly captured…
Chapter 26
“Good picture that innit?” said Dominic, choking back a yawn. “I’ve just sent it to Mum. She’ll love it.”
Jamie turned around from the passenger seat and smiled at his twin brother. “She will! Another one for her album!”
Having been the very epitome of the cocksure frontman the previous night, Johnny had noted how quiet he had been since. Glancing across at him as they left Brighton to make the short journey north to London, he made a mental note to catch him on his own and ask him if anything was troubling him.
With the soundcheck not until 5pm, the band could go to their hotel and grab some well needed sleep. Tonight’s gig – aside from being the last on their very first tour – was a momentous one. The 100 Club. The legendary 100 Club. The fuckin’ 100 Club where all the greats had played. From The Who to The Pistols. The club oozed rock’n’roll heritage from every pore.
Slap bang in the middle of Oxford Street, the inauspicious sign over the door doesn’t exactly scream legendary rock ’n’ roll venue. Thousands of shoppers pass it by daily without giving it a second glance – blissfully ignorant to the stories the venue could tell.
“Is that it?” Danny exclaimed, somewhat bemused by the fact that they were caught up in the perma-busy traffic of Central London, heading to a venue that Johnny had talked about in hallowed terms.
Exasperated at the volume of traffic that had doubled their journey time and reduced their sleep time, and at Danny’s youthful impertinence and ignorance, Johnny said, “Fuck’s sake, at times…” Banging the heel of his hand against the steering wheel, he said, “Don’t worry D-Mo. There’s a McDonalds just there. You’ll be fine.”
The sarcasm eluding him, Danny said, “Ah, nice one boss. I’m starving!”
Rolling his eyes upwards, Johnny shrugged his shoulders and decided to leave matters at that.
As soon as they pulled up outside, Danny, good to his word was hot-footing it to the golden beacon that was the ‘M arches’.
“He’s fuckin’ unreal,” Johnny muttered.
Just as the rest of the band had finishing unloading, Danny re-appeared clutching a sizeable brown bag full of fried delights.
“You’re not taking that shite in there are you?” Johnny said incredulously.
With a look of genuine surprise on his face, he said, “Why not? I can’t smoke. Fine. But eating’s not banned is it?”
Shaking his head and unable to compete with Danny’s logic, Johnny hoisted Jamie’s amp out of the back of the vehicle.
Wanting to buy into the myth of the venue, Jamie and Dominic were looking round wide-eyed at the pictures of all the legends that had played there. “You can feel it, can’t you bro?” whispered Jamie, in awe of the black and white shots that had captured such pivotal moments in musical history.
“I can’t wait for this. I’m gonna head down to Carnaby Street later. Try and get some new clobber to wear,” replied Dom enthusiastically.
“I’ll come along, I wouldn’t mind a Chinese. Nice to sit down and have a proper meal.”
***
Load-in. Soundcheck. All done without a fuss. The bands growing confidence and familiarity with the whole procedure had seen them become more assertive with the various venue’s sound engineers. Not brusque, just a focussed desire to get things right. Dissenting voices had on occasion been heard when being shown Lilliputian dressing rooms, but as Johnny always countered, dressing room or draughty corridor…
The 100 Club knew its place in rock’s pantheon of music history, but this didn’t stop the venues staff from being friendly and eager to please.
Once the soundcheck was dispensed with, the band headed off in their separate directions. The brothers went shopping in Carnaby Street’s more discerning clothes shops. Danny finally conceded he needed some sleep and headed back to the hotel with Johnny. Mikee decided he wanted to go and watch some real-live ‘peep-shows’ in Soho.
He had a seemingly insatiable appetite for porn, and would consume it like other people would watch a favourite film. His attitude had baffled the others who regarded pornography as very much a means to an end. Not Mikee, who considered himself very much the connoisseur.
The guestlist was dominated by record label staff and the band intended to finish their first tour on a high.
After a very welcome three hours’ sleep, Johnny and Danny – shades on, smoking and simultaneously texting his girlfriend – headed back to the 100 Club.
“You enjoyed this then man?” Johnny asked rhetorically.
“Enjoyed it?” He almost spluttered with surprise. “It’s been the best fuckin’ time of my life!” Pausing slightly, which was unusual, he said, “It’s err, a bit shit at home,” clamming up before he revealed too much, “but this year, with the band, meeting Dee,” lifting his shades up and meeting Johnny’s eye, “It’s been fucking amazing. I’ll always owe you. Always.”
As much as this sort of comment made him immensely proud, Johnny always deflected these comments back to the band themselves. “Your songs, Danny boy. All down to your songs. Always said that’s what it’s all about.”
“Thanks man, but it’s good having you about,
y’know. We could have ended up with some right dick.”
Tossing his back and laughing loudly, Johnny startled a group of passing tourists. “’I’ll try and take that as a compliment!”
“You knew what I meant, I’m not the best with words at times.”
“I knew,” he said, patting him warmly on the back.
The brothers had made some suitably rock ’n’ roll purchases from a Carnaby St boutique - Dominic had picked up a classic looking vintage black leather biker style jacket, with Jamie buying a black military style shirt. Very Strummer, Johnny had noted to himself.
The show went brilliantly - the band playing with a real swagger to their set.
Lonely Souls now demanded that you listen to their music. Jamie, flanked by Dominic and Danny, was bordering on mesmeric now. Meaning every impassioned lyric. Addressing the crowd with an assuredness that was the right side of cocky but maintaining an intelligence throughout. Wearing his new shirt tucked outside his black jeans, with his red scarf worn slightly looser than usual, he had everything. The songs, the voice, the looks – those cheekbones – and masses of charisma. It was never off the shelf attitude with him. He could rock and snarl but equally show a vulnerable sensitivity.
This was more than apparent on the new song that was now getting its first live airing.
As the opening chords of the track – working title ‘Long Time Dead’ – sounded, Jamie’s vocal rasped the lines, ‘Friend of mine, don’t let me down, as you’re a long time dead. A secret shouldn’t be so hard to keep. Whispered promises when you’re asleep. Empty vessels make most noise, don’t let me down again…’ Ears pricked up. Any semblance of conversations stopped. Heads turned to watch. Jamie, eyes tightly closed, wringing every bit of raw emotion out of the song.
As ever, ‘Salvation’ blazed the set to its conclusion. A slightly extended outro from Dominic had Dan and Mikee having to improvise. To the untrained ear it would have been seamless, but the rhythm section had been caught on the hop – thinking the song was over. With a barely noticeable nod, they picked up on Dom’s lead, propelling the groove onwards.
Swelling with pride, Jamie slung his guitar behind his back and grabbed the mic in both hands. “WE’RE LONELY SOULS. YOUR SALVATION RIGHT HERE, RIGHT FUCKIN’ NOW…” Taking a deep breath, he said, “THANK YOU! YOU’LL BE SEEING US AGAIN SOON…”
***
The aftershow passed uneventfully. The record label people seemed genuinely excited by the prospect of working with Lonely Souls. And Jamie was intrigued by the suggestion of a dub remix treatment for ‘Long Time Dead’.
Full of booze, high spirits and very probably some drugs, the band left the party and headed off in various directions. Johnny went straight back to the hotel having texted Claire early in the day. The downbeat reply was weighing heavily on his mind – akin to one of those late-night alcohol fuelled texts you regretted sending the morning after…
‘I only ever wanted you. And a family with you. I will miss you. Bye Johnny’
It had felt even more finite than the email and as much as his life had moved on, he still cared at the hurt he had been responsible for.
Two exceptionally attractive young females that had been floating around the party had invited Danny and Mikee back to a hotel to carry the party on. They didn’t need asking twice.
A writer from the NME had been courting Jamie’s attention – going under the pen-name of Sally Valley. A pretty girl from South Wales with a crop of butterscotch hair and a tree trunk thick accent.
She had chosen the self-styled name after she grew fed up of being referred to as Sally from the Valleys. They had left to go for a late coffee and to further their ‘chat’ in Soho. Johnny had given Jamie a quick ‘just be careful’ word to the wise as they had left.
And as ever, Dominic had made a beeline for the most attractive girl at the party. And having kindly unburdened her of all her coke, was now suggesting that they return to his hotel room and order some ‘room service booze’.
***
The morning after the night before, Johnny awoke and clicked his phone on. Rubbing at his bloodshot eyes, he went to the bathroom to relieve himself. A satisfied sigh and a quick glance in the bathroom mirror at his Papier Mache pallor. Not too bad considering. For now…
Returning to bed, he picked his now flashing phone up. A message from Danny. The words simply read. ‘Been arrested. Not that bad. Will call later’
Sitting up with a jolt, Johnny wandered what felony half of his band had become embroiled in…
***
Lighting four cigarettes and handing three out to Mikee and their escorts, Danny was in a particularly good mood, even for him. “Did you enjoy the gig then? We were on sick form tonight. We’re gonna be huge. Just you watch. I’m gonna marry my girlfriend when we get to number one!”
“You got a girlfriend then,” said the dark-haired girl of the two. “Oh, that is such a shame…”
“She won’t mind me talking to you,” Danny replied naively.
“I’ll bear that in mind then, shall I darling?” she said with a distinct purr in her voice.
“Where we headed then?” Mikee asked, draping his arm loosely round the other girl’s shoulder. A striking looking Asian girl, with long straight jet-black hair.
She replied that they should go back to a hotel near the flat they shared as the bar was open around the clock.
“Sounds a plan,” said Danny, wolf-whistling down a passing black cab. “What’s the name of the hotel?”
“Bayswater Hotel, near Hyde Park,” she said, trying to make it sound as alluring as possible.
The cab dropped them off and they sat for an hour or so. Conversation was somewhat stilted as both girls seemed disappointed that neither of the band had any cocaine about them.
Losing interest in proceedings and resolutely determined that he would behave himself on the last night of the tour, especially as he would be seeing Dee the following day, Danny had decided that they would call it a night. “I’m just going for a piss and then we’ll knock it on the head, eh Kong?”
Replying with a slight air of disappointment, Mikee said, “Fine, D-Mo. Ready when you are.”
Upon his way back from the toilet, Danny passed by a sparsely light function room. As he walked by an open door, his attention was drawn by two large piles of what looked like rubber.
Closer investigation revealed that they were in fact PVC padded ‘Sumo suits’.
There had been a corporate event on the previous day - held by an investment bank - and the suits had been hired as part of the ‘team-building’ event.
“Right. We’ll be off then girls. Nice meeting you both. And watch out for us. Lonely Souls, remember!”
All the time they were saying their goodbyes, Danny had been making furtive signals to Mikee.
The girls left in a frustrated huff. “What the fuck D-Mo. I was bang in there!”
“Yeah, yeah. Plenty more where they came from. But you need to check this out!”
Hurrying back to the room, they stood giddily in front of the unattended suits.
Picking the slightly smaller of the two up, Danny said, “Help me get into this Kong. We’ll have a right laugh!”
Strapping themselves into the outfits, putting the all-important headwear on, they looked patently ridiculous, but this was too good an opportunity to miss.
“There’s a fire-door over there, let’s go and scrap in the car park. Like Fight Club, but big fat bastards!”
Giggling uncontrollably, Danny secured his padded Sumo helmet and squeezed his now vastly increased frame sideways through the now open fire door.
After a few ‘belly charges’, they had both expended a considerable amount of energy trying to right themselves.
As Mikee sat firmly on his PVC padded arse, his eyes alighted on a small canopy at the rear of the hotel. Under which were parked two unguarded mobility scooters. Most large London hotels now had them available for their guests use – being espe
cially popular with the more sizeable transatlantic tourist.
“Look over there,” Mikee cackled. “There’s two of them electric car things!”
Waddling over as quickly as their oversized suits would allow, they realised they had hit the motherlode. Both vehicles had keys in their ignition and were not padlocked.
They struggled to mount the vehicles, but once onboard, found the suits moulded round the cars, allowing them to start them up and drive off into the night. A rock’n’roll edition of ‘Mario Kart’…
Dropping off the kerb with a bump, the two Sumo racers headed off down Bayswater Road whooping and shouting their delight.
“Look. Kong, there’s a sign for Kensington Palace over there. Let’s storm the gates. We can cut through the park.”
Cutting up on the pavement, they headed off at a dizzying top speed of ten mph in the general direction of Kensington Palace.
Unbeknown to them a passing police car had spotted the highly unusual sight and had radioed through a call to two on-foot PCs.
As the electric cars trundled through the park, Dan challenged his friend to a race. “See that sign for the Diana Memorial Park, first one there. FAST AND FURIOUS RULES!” he shouted, “ANYTHING FUCKIN’ GOES!”
They proceeded to crash into each other, padded legs kicked out to gain any semblance of an advantage.
Upon reaching the pond, Mikee stood up in his seat, claiming victory. Danny having collided with a bin, causing him to lose valuable yards.
“AND THE WINNER IS MIKEE KING KONG LONG,” he roared, his fat Sumo arms waving comically above him.
Seeing his opportunity – and not wanting to be second best – Danny pulled on the largely unresponsive throttle and crashed into the back of Mikee’s scooter.
Both he and the car flung forward, the car reaching an immediate stop. And Mikee, slightly off balance, flopped over the top of the handlebars into the cold murky pond.
The Rock 'N' the Roll. 'N That Page 18