The Rock 'N' the Roll. 'N That

by Steven J. Gill

  ***

  “Hello, Dominic? It’s Mum.”

  Reflexively looking to the other side of the band, Dominic wiped his eyes. “Hiya Mum. You okay? It’s early,” glancing at the bedside clock, “it’s only just gone ten…”

  “It’s not early, lazybones.”

  “We were all out last night celebrating the mid-week position. Top twenty. Can you believe it?”

  “I know. Jamie texted me. It’s amazing news. I’m so happy for you both. But…” Cally paused as she braced herself for the pending reaction to her next statement. “I’m a bit worried though, Dominic.”

  “Why would you be worried? Everything’s going brilliantly. I’ve never been happier,” he said, stifling a yawn.

  Steeling herself, she said, “I read the NME interview,” sighing softly, “and I’m just worried that you’re going in at the deep end. I’m not stupid Dominic. I know what goes on with you—” she was struggling for the right words, “boys in bands. I know what you do.”

  “And what’s that, Mum?”

  “I don’t need to draw pictures and whatever I say won’t make a difference. But just be careful. Please.”

  “Come on, Mum!” He shook his head irritably. “We’ve just gone top twenty and you’re giving me a lecture. Jeez. You going to have same little chat with Jamie?”

  A tell-tale pause gave away the answer. “Err. Of course I will.”

  “Really? I’ll ask him later.”

  “Don’t be like that. Please Dom.”

  “Like what? I’m a big boy. I can look after myself. I thought you’d be pleased for us.”

  “I am pleased,” snapped Cally. “I said that. I cried when I heard. I was so happy. Just be careful.”

  “And exactly what is it that I’m supposed to be careful about?”

  “I don’t need to say, do I?”

  Lying on his back, Dominic stared at the ceiling, an impassive look on his face. “No. You do. Tell me.”

  Tutting at her son’s belligerence, she said, “I don’t want to fall out. Sorry Dominic. But I just had to get it off my chest.”

  “Yeah, thanks Mum. I’ll drop this chat into our next interview. How my mum says I should be careful.”

  “Now that’s just silly talk.”

  “Isn’t it. Lot of that going on…”

  “I’ll speak to you again. Bye. I love you.”

  “Yeah. Bye.” Throwing his phone down angrily, Dominic pushed a hand through his unkempt bed-hair. “Fuck’s sake,” he grumbled to himself. Rubbing at his coke-raw nostrils, he rose and went for a cigarette on the apartment’s small balcony.

  Wiping a solitary tear from her eye, Cally clutched the phone to her chest, her mood now tinged with regret. She then cut out the NME interview and placed it in a plastic wallet. The first page in a memento book dedicated to her son’s band…

  Chapter 33

  “She’s going to be worried about both of us. Just humour her a bit. See it from her side,” said Jamie as they looked through the racks of clothing.

  With such a busy schedule for the foreseeable future, the twins were undergoing a spot of pre-tour retail therapy. Looking through the vintage items of varying style and quality, Dominic tutted at his brother’s all-pervading sensibleness.

  “What am I supposed to do then? Every time I’m gonna enjoy myself should I think of how Mum would feel. Whenever we have an interview, worry that it’ll upset her.” Shaking his head in frustration, he said, “This is all shit. Let’s go somewhere else.”

  “It’s all happened a little quickly for her, y’know. Just go easy on her. She just wants the best for us,” said Jamie, as they headed to another clothing unit within Afflecks Palace.

  “Yeah. Yeah. Sensible Jamie,” Dominic grumbled.

  “Just you remember that,” said Jamie, winking at his brother as they entered another shop.

  ***

  “Let’s rehearse for an hour and then we’ll stick the radio on at five. That sound like a deal?” said Dominic, as he tuned his guitar. “What’s up with you, D-Mo? Bit quiet.”

  “Had a dinner with Dee and me ma and pa. The old twat was alright with me for once. Think the shock has killed me!”

  “And did they like their new daughter-in-law then?” asked Mikee from behind his kit.

  “Fuck off. We’re not married. Not even talked about a date yet. Need to make some serious cash first,” said Danny, adjusting his amp slightly.

  “Lovely girl and that, Daniel. But fuck me, you won’t catch me settling down anytime soon,” said Dom, clearly trying to goad a reaction.

  “I didn’t ask you. As long as I know that she’s the right girl.”

  He still needled away. “I’ll remind you of that next time we’re out on tour and you’re getting your dick sucked!” cackled Dominic.

  “Yeah, well. I won’t be,” said Danny, muttering to himself under his breath.

  “What d’yer reckon then lads? Top twenty would be wicked,” said Mikee, rattling out a beat on his hi-hat.

  “Can’t see top ten, based on mid-week and what Johnny said. Label stats and all that,” said Jamie, rubbing a plectrum idly against the side of his neck.

  “Where is ol’ Johnny boy?” asked Mikee, rolling a muscular shoulder.

  “He texted me. Said he’s got to meet with his ex. And off to London tomorrow. Got to meet the label,” said Jamie, adjusting his mic stand.

  “Let’s work on the two new tracks’ and then we’ll find out where we are in the charts!” Dominic snapped his guitar lead, and tried to act nonchalant, but they all knew…

  ***

  Glancing down as his phone pinged, Johnny discreetly snuck a glance at the message -

  ‘Number 22. All made up. Shame it’s not top twenty. Next time. And thanks man J x’

  “Are you still as busy at work then?” Johnny asked, eager to maintain the small talk, although sensing that Claire’s request to meet carried an agenda.

  “Usual. I’m sure your working day, if you can call it that, is a little different these days,” sniped Claire.

  Slightly disappointed that she had dispensed with her ubiquitous air quotes, Johnny pushed back his chair and laughed to himself. “What does it matter what my job does or doesn’t entail? Would have been nice if you’d asked if I was happy in my work.”

  “Happy in your work?” With an incredulous look on her face, it was now Claire’s turn to laugh. “Why would I care if you’re happy?” With a slow shake of her head. “Taking way too many drugs and hanging around with a bunch of boys’ half your age!”

  “Really? You actually think that?” Already beginning to regret his decision to agree to meet, Johnny sighed, and rubbed at his temple. “I care that you’re happy. That you’re okay.”

  “That’ll be guilt. Pure and simple.”

  “Right. So that’s why you wanted to see me. Thanks,” grimaced Johnny.

  “I still can’t understand why you did it. What were you thinking? I wake up and can’t believe what you were possibly thinking,” said Claire, squeezing her hands together.

  “Claire,” said Johnny, pausing. “I said sorry at the time. I’ll apologise again, but I’ve nothing more to say.”

  “That’s it? Sorry. No explanation? Nothing to add after all this time?” pleaded Claire.

  “No,” said Johnny. Squinting slightly, he met Claire’s stare. Shaking his head slowly, he said, “You still think it was all my fault. The two situations were completely unrelated. If this is all about ‘closure’.” Making ridiculously exaggerated air quotes, he continued, “That I used to read about in your crappy magazines. Well…”

  “It was all your fault,” hissed Claire, not wishing to attract the attention of their fellow drinkers.

  “There’s nothing more I can say. I’m sorry Claire. Look after yourself.”

  “That’s it? Thanks. Thanks, a fucking lot!”

  Feeling his neck glands tightening, Johnny stood to leave, but slowly reached inside his jacket pocket. Pul
led out his phone, opened the text from Jamie and held it up to Claire.

  “Not that you’re bothered. But am I happy in my work? Never fuckin’ better!”

  Turning on his heel, he left Claire as speechless as he had ever seen her…

  Chapter 34

  A top thirty single under their belts and XL’s hottest new property would be playing at a record label charity event in London that week – bottom of the bill, but said line-up included Jack White, The XX, Friendly Fires and rumours of a guest slot from Adele. “It’ll be great. People knowing who we are,” said Dominic, as they boarded their now slightly larger tour bus. The pimped-up RV was now resigned to history.

  Or more likely the scrapheap.

  Not yet full on tour bus, but a distinct step in the right direction.

  The guestlist read like a ‘who’s who’ of musicians, footballers, models and I’ve-no-idea-but-they-must-know-somebodies. The old music hall was palpably throbbing with anticipation. A huge sign on its grand front façade announcing the evening’s acts. Scalpers outside the venue were doing a roaring trade with tickets changing hands for wince inducing amounts.

  At 8.25pm, minutes before showtime, a black cab pulled up, attracting the waiting scrum of photographers. A melee ensued as they jostled for position in a survival of the fittest manner.

  A slim figure, with a phalanx of black-suited security protecting her from the paparazzi’s prying glare, slipped through the melee of camera wielding carrion feeders, stopping for one second to allow them their picture before heading into the venue, only removing her Onassis-sized shades when she was safely inside.

  “Ms Bearheart. Here are your VIP passes,” said the girl at the ticket office, momentarily dazzled by the in-the-flesh beauty stood in front of her.

  ***

  “Great set boys. It went down a storm. Jack loved it as well. He said he’ll say hello after his set. And everyone at the label was delighted with how the first single dropped,” said XL label head Richard Russell as he popped his in the dressing room.

  “Thanks Richard. Top ten next time,” said Dominic, as he juggled between his mobile phone and a bottle of beer from their not inconsiderable rider.

  As the door closed, Mikee said, “I like him,” stripping out of a sodden white T-shirt and towelling himself down. “He’s cool as fuck. Must be worth a fortune as well.”

  “I’m just off for a cig. Anybody?” said Danny, reaching for his lighter and Access All Areas pass.

  “You mean you’re going to check in at home. Tell her what a good boy you’re going to be,” chipped in Dom.

  “No. Just a cig,” replied Danny defensively.

  “Leave your phone here then,” goaded Dom.

  “Fuck off. You must think I’m stupid. Leave it with you lot! Would you? No. Well fuck the fuck off then!”

  As Danny turned abruptly to leave the dressing room, Dominic pinched his overly-sensitive bandmate firmly on the arse. “OW! You weirdo!” he squealed.

  “I love you really D-Mo,” said Dominic, blowing a kiss in Danny’s direction.

  Returning the compliment as he rubbed at his stinging arse cheek, Dan pressed the speed dial on his phone. His hotline to Denise.

  “We all going to the aftershow then?” said Jamie, his voice a little hoarse after the evening’s gig. He had decided to pass on any cigarettes post-show when his throat felt like this.

  “Bang up for it,” replied Mikee, as he slipped into a fresh T-shirt, the bright white picking out the vivid colours of his tattoos.

  “I think Johnny is still out front watching the bands, give us a shout if you see him,” said Jamie, clearing his throat slightly and then drinking back a bottle of chilled water.

  “You seen the amount of celebs that are here tonight. I’m loving this, “said Dominic, “big night tonight. Can’t wait…”

  ***

  “Nice to meet you,” said Johnny as he extended his hand to the ravishingly gorgeous girl in front of him. He felt himself gulp as he made his introductions. “I’m Johnny. Johnny Harrison. I manage Lonely Souls. Best job I’ve ever had.” Then, laughing nervously, “I say job, but it’s not like it’s really work looking after them. You know, I’d do it for free I love it so much…”

  Realising he was waffling, Johnny laughed to himself and drank from his bottle of Peroni. Anything to prevent himself from making a twat of himself in front of this delectable and seemingly interested female.

  “Amanda. And managing a band must be the best job in the world. Apart from being in the band and then that would be the best thing ever. Apart from the pressure of having to write all the songs all the time and having to go to all those parties and have to drink and take loads of drugs.” Sipping from her own drink, Amanda smiled up at Johnny, her perfect white teeth illuminating it.

  Johnny smiled to himself, as he felt she sounded as nervously geeky as he did. “What is it you do then? You want another drink? Or are you just talking to me so I’ll introduce you to the band? I’d understand. Fewer grey hairs. Youth and talent on their side.”

  “Okay. I’m a vet. Yes please. A JD and Coke. And obviously. I’m as shallow as a very shallow thing, and if you’ve not introduced me to the band within five minutes, then I’ll just go straight over to them myself and cut out the greying but somewhat charming middle man.”

  Taken aback by the girl’s sassy sense of humour, Johnny stuttered slightly, before composing himself, “Err, JD and Coke it is. You don’t look like a vet…”

  “I know. This is the point where you tell me I look more like a model,” she said with a coquettish smile.

  A quick detour to the toilet before he went to the bar, Johnny cursed his walnut sized bladder. A gift seemingly bestowed on all men on the eve of their fortieth birthday. May as well do a line whilst I’m here, he thought, I go to the Gents’ that often, people will think that anyway.

  The pristine toilet top already showed the tell-tale signs of fellow recreational drug-users. Tiny grains of smeared crystalline powder, polished smears and bunched up pieces of toilet roll lay on top of the black granite shelf. A quick three step move – wrap, rack and snort and Johnny was suitably emboldened to carry on the verbal sparring with the exquisite Amanda.

  “JD and Coke. I got diet, just to be safe. Wasn’t sure which you wanted. You didn’t say did you? Or did you?” Johnny could feel himself gabbling ten to the dozen. The coke was accelerating his thought process into an audible car-crash.

  Deadpanning perfectly, she said, “Are you trying to tell me that I’m fat?”

  “Er. No. I. Err, just tastes nicer. Sorry. I didn’t mean that at all,” said Johnny, swigging from his beer, trying to dull the effect of the cocaine.

  Putting a slender finger to her mouth, Amanda seemed to be pondering the situation. “Well Mr Harrison, whilst we are talking about the subject of coke, are you going to share, or do I have to go and flirt with some over-paid record exec to score a line?”

  Johnny’s eyes widened. This girl was utterly terrific. Her attitude was such an incredible turn-on. And that was before he got to her looks – long straight dark hair, worn over one shoulder, warm almond shaped brown eyes, very little make-up and a perfectly sculpted mouth.

  “Well, you don’t miss a trick!” said Johnny, attempting to get the conversation on an even keel.

  “Not when someone has a blob of white powder on the end of their nose…” said Amanda, the glint in her eye again causing his stomach to tighten.

  Having rubbed the rogue coke from his nose as discreetly as a man with class A drugs stuck to the middle of his face could, he removed his wallet from inside his jacket pocket, passing it to her. “Never let it be said that I’m not the trusting type. Handing my wallet over to a total stranger!”

  “Nice meeting you, Mr Harrison. Manager of an up and coming rock band. There should be a few quid in there, couple of credit cards. And a decent amount of reasonable quality drugs…” Giving Johnny her glass, she turned on her heel, heading off to the
Ladies’, casually patting Johnny’s wallet against her thigh as she went.

  Unable to resist, Johnny whistled softly to himself as his eyes followed her. Her long toned legs were clearly the by-product of an athletic lifestyle. The thigh length heeled black leather boots worn outside her jeans caused more than just Johnny’s eye to watch her exit the room.

  Returning quickly, Amanda leaned into Johnny, reaching round his back and pushing his wallet into the back pocket of his jeans. Whispering into his ear, “Thank you Johnny. There was only forty quid otherwise you wouldn’t have seen me for dust.”

  “Well, seeing as though you came back, I’ll introduce you to the band,” said Johnny.

  “Oh, would you! I promise I’ll not get too excited and faint,” said Amanda, clasping her hands together in mock girly fashion.

  Strolling over to Dominic and Mikee, who were deep in meaningless conversation with two eager females, “Alright lads. Can I introduce you to somebody? This is Amanda. Very big fan apparently…”

  Smiling at the neatly inserted undercutter, Amanda kissed both boys on the cheek, even throwing in a ‘catching her breath in excitement’ gesture. As subtle as ever where female form was concerned, Dom nudged Johnny with his elbow, an act that didn’t go unnoticed by the vigilant Amanda.

  “Well, thank you for that. I won’t wash my hand again,” she teased. “And your lead guitarist. He’s such a ladies’ man, isn’t he? I think he liked me,” she said, tossing her hair back exaggeratedly.

  “I’d introduce you to Jamie, but I can’t see him. Little more charming than our Dom can be on occasion,” said Johnny.

  It was the first time that he had bothered with any female attention since his break-up, all his energies had been focussed on the band. He didn’t count his night with Cally given how gallantly he had behaved.

  “We could leave if you wanted to? Or are you too busy with band business? Never off the clock. Constantly keeping a discreet but watchful eye over your young charges,” said Amanda, her infectious sense of humour again amusing Johnny.