The Rock 'N' the Roll. 'N That

by Steven J. Gill

  ***

  The video was to be recorded by a hip young filmmaker by the name of Barney Mason. A little ‘too London’ for Johnny – an aside to Dom that ‘he’d get twatted if he went out in Manchester dressed like that’ had afforded much amusement.

  Said ‘too London’ garb consisted of lilac coloured skinny jeans worn rolled up three inches above his ankle, a pink T-shirt with a picture of Beethoven on the front, and glasses with thick white frames, topped off with a tartan golf-style flat cap.

  Barney was never seen without a small video camera and recorded the band as they had prepared themselves for the shoot. Capturing their silent rituals, as they set their equipment up, exchanged opinions, and laughed at their constant piss-taking.

  When the final edit was ’a fackin’ wrap’, the band were delighted with both the video and the short fifteen-minute film that Barney had edited from the captured footage. It was a brilliant introduction to the band. The short interviews providing insights into the band’s individual personalities – Jamie’s focussed ambition. Dominic’s desire to be a part of rock ’n’ roll’s rich heritage. Dan’s unbridled enthusiasm and lust for his new life. And Mikee. He just wanted to be the best drummer of his generation and complete his tattoo collection as soon as time/money and his pain threshold allowed.

  “I love the short film. We should put that out as an extra on the album. It’s really fuckin’ cool. Captures what you’re all about perfectly,” said Johnny.

  “Totally,” said Jamie, “I loved working with him, hope we can do more with him.”

  “On the road documentary sort of thing,” suggested Johnny.

  “I don’t know about that. The way the others carry on. It’ll be full on Spinal Tap by the time of the second album!” laughed Jamie.

  “They’re just enjoying all that being in a band brings, J. I know you always come across as the ‘serious one’. A band needs different personalities,” said Johnny as he clicked his laptop from the film of the band back to his emails.

  Jamie helped himself to another beer from the apartment’s spacious refrigerator. “It feels like it’s all in place now. Single release, video, album, tour, press. It’s odd having everything mapped out for us y’know.”

  “You must be pleased though? People getting to hear your songs, buy them!”

  “Or nick ’em. Every fucker I know seems to rip everything off the internet!” grumbled Jamie.

  “You sound like an old bastard just like me!” said Johnny.

  “I’m serious man! I’ve never ripped anything off the internet. Pisses me off when Dom and Mikee are always talking about tunes and films they’ve fuckin’ nicked,” said Jamie with a serious frown on his face.

  “Record label will love you! But I agree man,” said Johnny draining his bottle of Becks.

  “I’m not bothered about being a multi-millionaire. I want to make money, but I don’t think you should graft over something and just give it away.”

  Johnny looked over at Jamie, who was stood in front of the large apartment window, staring across the city’s twinkling evening skyline. “You’re gonna have to deal with the other side of things, J. It’s not going to be just the songs and the shows. There’s a ton of other shit that nobody can put into a neat schedule and plan for you. It worries me at times y’know.”

  “I’ll be fine man, suppose it’s just fear of the unknown,” said Jamie as he accepted another beer from Johnny. “It’s like when I talk to Dom, he just can’t wait for all the fuckin’ madness. It’s like he feels he needs to give it the big rock star act.”

  He cocked his head to one side and stuck his bottom lip out slightly. “But that’s what makes you so different! And people will want that. They want to see someone who is doing something they can only dream of and see that they are loving every fuckin’ minute of if it!” said Johnny as he leant back on the breakfast bar.

  “You’re right, and I know why he’s like that, but—”

  “But nothing!” Johnny interjected. “Black and white. Light and shade. Yin and yang. It fuckin’ works perfectly Jamie. Perfectly. Can’t you see that?”

  “I can,” he said wistfully.

  “Listen, I’ve got an early start tomorrow. Meeting with the label. Their bean counters. Sounds a right laugh. I’m on the early train so I’m gonna knock it on the head.”

  “Okay man. Enjoyed this. Nice chilled out chat,” said Jamie polishing off the last of his beer.

  As they hugged out their farewell, Jamie went to say something then hesitated.

  “See ya soon J,” said Johnny, stifling an ill-mannered yawn.

  “And you. Enjoy that London. Oh, and tell ’em how made up with the video and film we are,” he said, tapping his nose with a smile, “Tell ’em money well spent…”

  ***

  “Yeah, we’ve got a record deal. Supported the Roses at Heaton Park as well. How wicked was that, eh Mikee?” said Dom, as they sat in a newly opened Northern Quarter bar.

  A quiet Thursday evening had just retrieved itself as Dominic and Mikee had now acquired some serious female attention.

  “I’m Jayne. And this is Davina,” said the blonde as way of introductions.

  “Singles’ out in September. Album not long after that. We’ll be all over the radio before you know it,” Dominic said with a wink at Mikee.

  “I’m the drummer. Dom plays lead guitar,” said Mikee, as he flexed his considerable bicep to show off the latest addition to his tattoos.

  “Ooh, they’re lovely. Hurts doesn’t it. I’ve just got a small one. I might show it you later!” said Davina, squeezing his bicep flirtatiously.

  “Shall I get us some more drinks then, girls?” said Dominic as he stood and headed for the bar. “Shots as well? Get this party started!”

  Jayne quickly reapplied her lip-gloss. Adjusting her already revealing low cut T-shirt, she made sure that her ample cleavage was set to tractor-beam effect. Her friend, who was still rubbing Mikee’s biceps, stuck her tongue out slightly, having clocked her friend’s sexual preening.

  “Okay. Two white wines. Pints. And four Sambucas.” Raising his shot glass, he said, “To rock ’n’ roll. All the time!” Dominic slammed the shot back in one, banging the empty glass down on the table with an attention seeking crack.

  Mikee followed suit. “To me and you bro! LONELY SOULS!”

  Knocking her shot back with a grimace, Mikee’s would-be conquest said coyly, “I can’t see you being Lonely Souls tonight…”

  Laughing at the dreadful pun, Dom signalled for more shots from the bar. As he did, Jayne placed her purse in his lap. She whispered in his ear, “Look in the zipped bit. Something you may fancy in there.”

  Popping the purse pistol-style down the back of his jeans, Dominic headed downstairs for the Gents’.

  Securing an empty cubicle, he wiped the wooded cistern top down thoroughly and opened the purse, quickly locating the paper wrap contained within.

  “Result,” he whistled to himself. Chalking out a generous but not greedy line, he tightly rolled a note, cleared his nasal passages with a quick blow, and then bent over the crystalline drug and hoovered it up. The coke had been an unexpected bonus and he vowed that he would show his gratitude later that evening. Returning to the bar and seeing the four charged shot glasses awaiting him, he smiled at Jayne. “Alright if my good friend Mikee has a little bump?”

  “Go on then. But make sure that there’s some left for us later…”

  The magic words. As he passed the purse across to Mikee with a subtle nod, he kissed Jayne on the top of her head, his hand running down her bare arm suggestively.

  ***

  “Just hold still. Nearly.” As Dominic carefully arranged the line of coke with the tip of his bank card, he looked down with a hungry look. His handiwork carried out with the precision of a surgeon.

  The coke was perfectly centred where the small of her met the curve of her arse. As she knelt perfectly still on all fours, Dominic tightened the note. “St
eady! Right!”

  Looking down at the arse-turned-drugs plinth, he thought that it wasn’t the best he had seen over the past few months, but he loved the girl’s willingness to indulge him one of his fantasies.

  Grasping her thigh with his left hand, he sniffed up the coke, dabbing at a couple of stray grains with his finger and licking them off. He then slid his moistened finger into Jayne’s already invitingly wet pussy.

  She gasped with pleasure as Dom, rubbing at his nose with his left hand, slowly worked his finger rhythmically in and out of her.

  And Mikee. Killing two birds with one stone. He had raided the fridge in Dominic’s apartment and was now licking yoghurt from between Davina’s legs. He was still regretting that he had not purchased a more substantial meal on the way home, but this alternative would suffice. Holding his hard cock, pulling away at it frantically whilst Davina lay back on the sofa purring as he hungrily licked away at her and the yoghurt.

  Rolling on to her back, Jayne looked up at Dominic, a wicked glint in her eye. “My turn now…”

  Leaning across she scooped the last of the cocaine onto her fingernail, “Lie on your back.”

  As compliant as a square-bashing squaddie, Dominic lay back and put his hands behind his head, all the time his greedy eyes not leaving Jayne.

  Holding his hard cock in her left hand, she carefully deposited the coke onto the blood-gorged tip. Rubbing the back of her hand across her mouth, Jayne then bent over him, sucking him and the cocaine back with deep thrusting movements.

  After a minute of vigorous and wholeheartedly proficient oral sex, Dominic came violently. His midriff tightened, and he groaned with sexual delight as he covered his face. “Oh fuck!” Meeting her eye as she swallowed, Dominic let out a low laugh. “You bad, bad girl…”

  Chapter 32

  Monday 17th September 2012. An inauspicious day in the calendar for the majority, but four young men – and one middle-aged man – were counting the days down with varying degrees of patience.

  “I heard us on the radio again the other day. I’ll never get tired of that,” said Danny, as he leant against the wall outside their rehearsal room. Lighting up another cigarette. “Do we get paid whenever it’s played then Johnny?”

  “Yeah, something called PRS. You’re all classed equally as the songwriters so you’ll all get a small slice and the record company do as they’re the publishers,” Johnny replied.

  “Easy really when you look at it,” said Dom, struggling to light his own cigarette in the blustery wind, “Just sell a shit load of records, play loads of gigs, flog a load of T-shirts and we’re laughing.”

  Nodding in Dominic’s direction, Johnny said, “Simply but effectively put. You keep writing the tunes and nobody has a problem. Most money is in touring and festivals. Anyhow, don’t you lot worry about all that, it’s my responsibility.”

  Three weeks and counting. A relaxed programme of rehearsals was planned, Jamie and Dominic having hit a rich vein of songwriting with the nucleus of three new songs taking shape.

  The record label’s pluggers had done their job – the first single being lodged on the playlists of XFM Manchester and London, Radio 6, countless local stations and Radio 1 were considering it for their evening shows.

  “Mikee. You’re late. Been down the shops for some more yoghurt?” said Dominic as they exchanged knowing winks and a fist-bump.

  Rubbing his sizeable jaw, Mikee laughed, “Get some without fruit in it next time, fudge or toffee or something.”

  “Whatever you say Kong!” said Dom, a wicked twinkle in his eye.

  “Alright Johnny,” said Jamie amicably.

  “Alright J. Yeah, good ta. Busy. And busy is good,” said Johnny.

  As Johnny drank from a bottle of water, Danny grabbed his wrist. “Nice watch bossman!”

  Looking down at his newly acquired timepiece, Johnny smiled to himself. “A little treat to myself. Got the money through from my house and a few quid from the label so wanted to buy something I’d remember it all by.”

  “Let’s have a look then,” said Mikee.

  Johnny casually tossed the four and half grand Rolex to Mikee, knowing that his shovel like hands were a safe bet.

  “Nice. Very nice,” said Mikee as he inspected the watch, with its bottle green face and onyx bezel.

  “I’ll buy you all one when the album goes to number one,” said Johnny as he put his watch back on.

  “I’ll hold yer to that,” said Danny, with a snap of his fingers.

  “My pleasure,” said Johnny coolly, “You get the number one and I’ll be there 9.00 Monday morning when the shop opens.”

  “Put it in your diary then dude,” said Dominic, as cocksure as ever.

  “Talking of things for your diary. NME interview lined up for start of September. Label want us to get some more photos done for promo and artwork. “Glancing in Jamie’s direction, he said, “Interviews being done by your friend Sally Valley.”

  “Fine by me, I—”

  “Good job you didn’t fuck her then eh bro!” interjected Dom.

  “Good job you didn’t fuck her! Don’t know what you’ve caught with all the notches on your bedpost,” said Jamie.

  Mumbling slightly, Dom said, “Yeah well, I’ll be fine. Nothing wrong with enjoying myself.”

  “Absolutely bro. I’m not your keeper,” smiled Jamie.

  ***

  The day of the single release had arrived, and all concerned were behaving like expectant fathers in a maternity ward.

  Flipping open his laptop, he saw that there was an email from the band’s press officer –

  ‘Johnny, hope you’re well and as excited as we are about this week. Copy of the NME interview. Decent read. Speak soon. Suzzie.’

  Opening the attachment, he smiled at the headline soundbite –

  “IT DOESN’T MATTER WHERE WE’RE FROM, IT’S HOW BIG WE’LL GET…”

  An article full of shooting from the hip soundbites and laced with cockiness culminated with a glorious payoff –

  ‘The North Will Rise Again’ and those cocky Mancs have only gone and done it again. And don’t we always love them for it.

  Songs, attitude, did I mention the looks and not a monobrow in sight…”

  ***

  Wednesday would be the day that all would become clear. Mid-week chart positions would be made available. A reasonably solid indicator of where the first single would land. A band meeting had been convened in a city centre Chinese restaurant.

  “That’ll do for me please,” said Mikee, pointing at the menu as their waitress took notes down. Sporting yet more dressings on his forearms, the tattoo sleeves were now resplendent. The ‘King Kong’ atop the skyscraper was now complete and was a stunning piece of art.

  “Same for me,” nodded Danny, “and a lager please.”

  “Yup, lagers all round,” agreed Mikee on behalf of the band.

  “We’ll save the champagne until after we’ve heard the news, eh Johnny,” winked Dominic.

  They ate in comparative quiet for them. The usual ribbing was absent. They were preoccupied with a palpable nervous tension. Danny seemed convinced that anything less than a number one would be a huge disappointment. Mikee, somewhat pessimistically, was saying he’d be happy providing the placing was double digits. Jamie and Dom seemed willing for at least a top thirty slot.

  The label themselves had informed Johnny that they were confident of a position in the lower echelons of the top twenty. He’d sensibly decided to keep this little nugget to himself.

  A phone call was expected from Suzzie at around 2pm, and having finished their meals, they were nervously nursing pints.

  With his phone ringer turned up to its maximum setting and fully charged, the shrill ringtone startled them.

  “ANSWER IT!” shouted Danny.

  Picking up the handset carefully, he said, “Ta for that, D-Mo. Would never have occurred to me…”

  Crossing his arms in frustration and then reaching for
his cigarettes before realising that this wasn’t an option, Danny muttered to himself.

  “Hiya Suzzie. Yeah, we’re all here. Good thanks.” The band were only able to hear one side of the conversation and Johnny had never witnessed them as church mouse quiet. “Yeah. We thought that too.”

  A long pause. Johnny pulled his best poker face. “Okay. I’m just going to pop you on speakerphone. One second and then the boys will all be able to hear you.” Quickly adjusting the settings, he placed the phone on the middle of the not-so-pristine white table cloth.

  “All yours Suzzie,” said Johnny, struggling to contain the excitement from flooding into his voice.

  “Good news. We’ve just got the midweeks in.” A pause that seemed to drag interminably. “It’s sitting at number 19 today!”

  “FUCKIN’ COME ON!!” screamed Danny.

  Mikee leapt up and was now stood on his chair, his muscular tattooed arms spread wide shouting, “Nineteen, fucking nineteen,” at the top of his voice.

  A waitress rushed over to tell Mikee to clamber down from his elevated position only to be scooped up and spun round in an all-consuming hug, much to her amusement.

  Picking up the phone, Johnny resumed the conversation. “Hi Suzzie, yeah, they’re delighted. Totally made up. Yeah, we’ll see where it ends up Sunday, but that’s great news.”

  Hanging the call up, Johnny stood and accepted Jamie’s hug and whispered, “Thanks man, love yer.”

  Summoning the still grinning waitress, the age-old cliché was fulfilled, albeit with a rock ’n’ roll twist. “A bottle of champagne and five tequilas please,” laughed Johnny.

  The shot glasses were chinked together boisterously amid shouts of ‘nineteen’ and ‘fuckin’ get in’.

  There was nothing for it but to get well and truly pissed. The band had arrived. They officially were now the proud owners of a hit record. ‘Number fuckin’ nineteen’, as Danny was now screaming down his phone to Dee.