The Rock 'N' the Roll. 'N That

by Steven J. Gill

  “Good job she’s not got your nose, eh D-Mo,” Dominic said as he leant over and then kissed his bandmate on the forehead.

  “Is that the best you’ve got? Time you changed the record.” Dan replied with a newly acquired Zen calm.

  “And how are you doing? We know you did all the hard work despite what D-Mo says,” Dominic said, before he kissed Dee on warmly on both cheeks.

  Johnny then pulled out a parcel and handed it to Dee. “We’ve got a few little bits for you and the baby. Just glad we got your boy here back on time.”

  “Hmm, thank you. And I heard ALL about that,” Dee replied. The look on her face indicated she was not unduly concerned at the dubious methods that had been employed. Opening the badly wrapped parcel, she pulled out an assortment of tiny bibs and T-shirts, holding up one which read ‘Daddy’s little Rock Star’.

  “They’re wicked,” Danny said with a trademark snap of his fingers. “Thanks. For everything. Mikee was in before as well, so now you’ve all seen her.”

  “She’s perfect. You’re gonna be great parents,” Johnny said, seeing something before him that he felt had most certainly passed him by.

  “And don’t you be taking him off on tour all the time then,” Dee said, scolding Johnny with a pointing finger.

  Raising his hands mock-defensively, Johnny said, “Don’t blame me! It’s the record label.”

  “Nicely sidestepped, man,” Jamie said with a smile.

  “Let me get a picture,” Dominic said, pulling out his phone - which already had a picture of Eleanor as the screensaver.

  Danny and Dee put their arms around each other and held up their 5lb 8oz tiny bundle for posterity.

  “Lovely that, D-Mo,” Dominic said.

  “You like her name then? Sort of like Dominic, and D-Mo. Wicked innit,” Danny said, beaming like only a proud parent can.

  “Still can’t believe you missed The Stones. And to spend an hour in their dressing room was wicked!” Dominic said, with a sly wink at Johnny and Jamie.

  “Fuck off! You never?” Danny said, looking aghast, even with Dominique, nestled in his arms.

  “DANNY!” Dee barked. “What have I told you about swearing in front of her?”

  “Sorry babe. But fu— I mean The Stones! I can’t believe it.”

  “I think that our Dominic is winding you up,” Dee said, as she caught the stifled sniggers that Dom was struggling to contain.

  “Wanker,” Danny muttered, before raising an apologetic hand in the direction of his daughter’s long-suffering mother.

  ***

  “Red please. Large,” Cally said as she took a seat on the busy canal side terrace. Fiddling with her sunglasses, tell-tale signs that she was more than a little agitated.

  “No problem,” Johnny replied, with a slight gulp, realising that this little chat would not be plain sailing.

  Returning with the drinks after a protracted wait at the bar, Johnny said, “How are you? Believe you’ve been to see Danny and Dee. Baby’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

  “She is. And I heard all about your little escapade in getting him home on time.”

  “Good to know people can keep a secret. No harm done. Car was left where we found it,” Johnny replied with a nervous slurp on his pint.

  “All very rock ’n’ roll as you boys are so fond of saying.”

  “It was needs must. We didn’t just nick a car for the sake of it,” Johnny replied - a little too brusquely. Talk about stating the obvious he thought

  “It was a great couple of days,” Cally said, leaving the comment hanging, waiting for Johnny to give the hungry elephant in the room an iced bun.

  “It was,” nodded Johnny. “All of it.” Okay, that was a solid opener, he thought.

  Cally raised an eyebrow and smiled across the table at him. “All of it. That’s good to hear.”

  “Course it was. I’d be lying if I said that it wasn’t. And, y’know. Us. That was great too.”

  “Y’know,” Cally mocked. “For someone with the gift of the gab. At times…”

  “You know what I mean,” Johnny said, still floundering for the right thing to say.

  “I don’t actually,” Cally replied pointedly.

  “Okay,” Johnny said, steeling himself. “Okay. It was amazing, and I really like you. Why wouldn’t I?” Taking a deep breath, “But—”

  “But,” interjected Cally.

  “But, it puts me in a tricky situation.”

  “It,” Cally said, before downing half her glass in one gulp.

  “Sorry. I meant us. Us. It puts me in a difficult one with the boys.”

  “How so?” asked Cally.

  “Our professional relationship,” replied Johnny matter-of-factly.

  “Oh. I see. What do you think they’d say?”

  “I have no idea. Honestly. But, y’know.”

  “No Johnny. I don’t know,” Cally said tersely.

  “I work with them. On a daily basis. To be having a relationship with their…” Johnny paused as if the next word sounded awkward to his ears.

  Cally filled in the gap. “With their mother.”

  “Yeah. With their mother,” Johnny said sheepishly.

  “But the boys really like you, Johnny. You and Jamie are so close. It’s like…” It was now Cally’s turn to cut off herself short.

  “I know. And that’s what makes it so difficult. This was never part of the plan. Not there was ever any great Masterplan…” Reaching across the table, Johnny put his hand onto Cally’s.

  “Go on,” Cally prompted, glancing at her now empty glass.

  “Look. I do like you. I really do. But this. Us. It’d complicate things so much,” Johnny said with a genuine look of frustration in his eyes.

  Cally closed her eyes and sighed. “It doesn’t have to be like that. We could take things steady. See how they go.”

  “I’d have to speak to the boys. Right from the start. And I don’t know if I can. Y’know, things are going to get huge with the next album an—”

  “If you say y’know one more fucking time!” It was unusual for Cally to proffer an expletive, but this was heartfelt. “What you’re saying is that the band and their album is more important than anything we might have.” Finishing off her drink and hurriedly gathering her bag and glasses. “Thanks a bunch Johnny. At least I know where I stand now.”

  “Cally! C’mon,” Johnny said, pushing his own chair back and reaching out for her bare arm.

  Pushing his hand away, Cally turned on her heel and with a shake of her head, said, “Thanks Johnny.” And with that she was gone, pushing her way through the crowd of post-work drinkers.

  Sitting, staring at his pint and reeling at just how bad that the exchange had gone, Johnny cursed to himself. The band and his unswerving loyalty to them looked they had just cost him a relationship for the second time.

  ***

  “Sounds amazing. Just try it with a D minor before the chorus,” Jamie said as he and Dominic sat in the darkened rehearsal room. Their chairs were close to each other, a shared mic stand positioned between them. The short shadow cast between them gave the impression that they were conjoined.

  “Yeah, hang on. Right. On three. With the vocal,” Dom replied as he lovingly caressed the scratch plate of his champagne coloured Epiphone guitar.

  Clearing his throat, Jamie sat, hunched over the mic which. The scrawled lyrics on a piece of paper lay between his feet.

  ‘The silence between us is so profound. I double dare you to make a sound. So don’t you talk to me, don’t you talk to me…’

  The impassioned vocal was underpinned by a snaking, ghostly guitar line that rasped and whipped around the room.

  “I’m gonna double track that. It’ll sound brilliant. Opening track of the album. Love the way it builds,” Dominic said as made a minor adjustment to the neck of his guitar.

  “I love the guitar sound. Worth the money wasn’t it. Fuckin’ gorgeous and sounds amazing,” Jamie said.


  “That’s eight, maybe nine tracks we’ve got sorted. I’ve got three more I’m just working on. Not quite ready but you’ll fuckin’ love ’em bro.”

  Jamie leaned forward and kissed his twin brother on the forehead. “Difficult second album? Never in any doubt.”

  “We’re back in the studio when we get back from Japan. I want this done and out by the end of the year,” Dominic said determinedly.

  “Christmas Number One then eh?” Jamie said with a chuckle.

  “Number One album. No fuckin’ about this time,” Dominic replied.

  Chapter 55

  ‘Kong padded around his freshly laundered lair. Prodding disinterestedly at a piece of fruit, he scratched a lazy paw across his forehead. Walking naked around the room, he tensed his chest as he caught sight of his reflection. Flopping backwards on to his bed, he lay staring at the ceiling, his all-consuming need to mate pre-occupying his every primal thought. The black bamboo bars of his bed were cold to the touch as he wrapped his fingers around them, squeezing them in his mighty grip until he heard them creak their resistance.

  Rising to his full height, Kong again paced up and down, looking expectantly at the silent door.

  Drinking deeply, he wiped a muscular forearm across his mouth, the dark hair on his chin bristling - abrasive to the touch. Making a deep guttural noise, he rubbed his stomach and drank deeply again.

  A sharp, precise knock on the door of his lair alerted his senses. His eyes narrowed, and he felt his pent-up seed surge. Opening the door, he was met by two identical raven-haired females. Beautiful to behold in every detail.

  Beckoning them in with a sweep of his unfurled hand, Kong closed the door behind them and smiled to himself.

  Each girl placed a brown leather holdall to the floor and bowed slightly…’

  ***

  “Fuck,” Danny exclaimed. “This place is unreal.”

  As blunt as his summary was, it remained an oft muttered sentence by first-time visitors to Tokyo.

  “And this is only the airport,” Dominic said with a low whistle.

  A prestigious slot at the Mount Fuji Festival with club dates either side saw the band arrive in Japan as wide-eyed tourists in a whole new land.

  Narita International Airport was a visceral bombardment. All sleek metal walkways and glass fronted express elevators. Products were smacked right in front of you. An unavoidable sensory overload of adverts all screaming for attention.

  It’s like something straight out of Blade Runner, thought Johnny

  Cars had been politely declined as the band, and particularly Johnny, wanted to experience the ‘bullet train’. A quick transfer and they were aboard the Tokaido Shinkansen travelling into the heart of Tokyo. Speeds of up to 200mph rendered most passengers mute as townscapes blurred past them in an almost indecipherable blur.

  Taking their pre-booked seats, Johnny looked at his band. As much as they were ‘strangers in a strange land’ and no-one would recognise them outside of their forthcoming gigs, they looked like a band. Unmistakably.

  That ‘gang mentality’ exuded from them whenever they were together. This was their inner sanctum. You could get a party pass for the night, but no-one was allowed permanent residency.

  Slouching back in his seat and propping a black desert boot-clad foot on the arm of the empty seat in front of him, Dominic had an insouciant second nature swagger whenever he was in public, exuding confidence with his every fluid movement or glance. The torturous days of ‘Dominos’ were long, long gone.

  Jamie seemed to ooze Rockstar cool even if he was dressed in TV viewing scruffs. Totally comfortable with his exquisite good looks, his piercing blue eyes burning with intensity – when they weren’t covered by his favoured Aviators.

  Now resplendent with his tattoo sleeves, Mikee was a living breathing tribute to rock ’n’ roll. A close-cropped haircut and beard, always dressed simply yet stylishly, the ‘don’t fuck’ attitude poured from him. Which always amused Johnny as he was soft as shite and would do anything for you – provided he was suitably topped up with food, drink and pornography.

  And Danny ‘D-Mo’ Martin. He’d made the gear change from fatherhood back to fully signed up rock ’n’ roller with practiced ease. His leather jacket zipped right up to his reconstructed nose, shades fixed on, dark hair now slightly longer again and worn in thick Sid-esque spikes, sneering and glowering at everything that he wasn’t quite familiar with.

  Heads turned, people stared and whispered to each other as the four-headed shaded up rock ’n’ roll creature talked amongst themselves.

  Johnny sat in silence, wrapped in his own thoughts. He’d not spoken to Cally since he had been so brusquely put in his place. Having contemplated speaking to the twins about the ‘situation’, he had erred on the side of caution. If there was a relationship to disclose then he felt that he would have done, but to tell them about something that didn’t exist seemed a little futile.

  “Shame you’re all loved up Dom. These Japanese women are beautiful,” Mikee said with a sage nod.

  Dominic looked over the top of his shades and smiled. “I’m a one-woman man now I’ve met my Queen.”

  “Sh’yeah right,” Mikee said with a dismissive snort.

  “You’ll see,” Dom said with a curt nod, “You’ll see.”

  “You’ve only known her a few weeks. I know you Dom. Remember that,” Mikee said with a tap of his nose.

  “Plenty of that still. Still love my nose to the straw. But I’m bang into Eleanor.”

  Looking away from the window, Jamie laughed at his brother’s comment. “Bang into her! So, you moved her in. Whatever happened to good old-fashioned romance?”

  “What? Like you and Lara?” Dominic needled back.

  “Never said I loved her, and I’m not living with her,” Jamie sparred.

  “Only ’cos she lives so far away. Otherwise you’d be following her round like a lost puppy. I’ve seen you.”

  Sensing that the jet-lag might be causing the inter-band banter to go a little further than normal, Johnny intervened. “Right. We’re nearly there. They’ll be a car waiting outside the station to take us to the hotel.”

  ***

  “Did you see how many people had a red scarf on?” Jamie asked breathlessly, having thrown everything his jet-lagged body could muster into their closing track. They had reverted to ‘Salvation’ as a set-closer for the ‘new market’.

  And the audience had loved it. Japanese crowds were notoriously respectful but also exceptionally willing to show their appreciation. They were quick to fall for bands and Jamie and Dominic were soon installed as the objects of their desire and worship. With precise subservient bows and innocent giggles, the youth of Japan formed an orderly queue so that could shake hands with the boys and have pictures taken. Selfies. Inevitably.

  Jamie and Dominic had best part of an hour’s ‘meet and greet’ to fulfil, and if the previous day’s gig had been an indicator, they would come back with an armful of miscellaneous fan gifts – which had included numerous sketched pictures, items of clothing and plenty of red scarfs.

  “Just me and you then, Mikee,” Johnny said as he and the muscular drummer chilled in the dressing room. “All the others are spoken for now.”

  “I can’t wait for what I’ve got lined up,” Mikee replied with a slow nod of his head.

  Frowning slightly, Johnny asked, “Go on?”

  “Threesome.”

  “Okay,” Johnny said. “You make it sound so easy.”

  “It is. I’ve ordered two girls for tomorrow night. Not cheap. But top drawer. All done and dusted. Online,” Mikee said calmly. “I love Japanese women,” he added.

  “Two birds with one stone. If you’ll excuse the pun,” Johnny said.

  Mikee laughed and crushed his can, tossing it with impressive accuracy into the bin situated on the other side of their spacious dressing room.

  Opening another can, Mikee raised it to Johnny, “Here’s to birds and stones then.”


  “Birds and stones,” Johnny echoed.

  Looking across at Mikee, Johnny thought how little he had changed since they had first met.

  He remained totally nonplussed by the under-the-microscope levels of attention the band received, happy in the knowledge that the band were getting the plaudits they deserved. And that he was being recognised as a drummer of considerable talent. Success having enabled him to indulge his vices of expensive drum kits, his deep thirst for pornography and his need to adorn much of his upper body in intricate inkwork.

  Don’t fuck with Mikee and he won’t fuck with you.

  ***

  “Massive spike in sales after Glastonbury. The record company have just emailed figures across,” Johnny said as they travelled from Tokyo to Osaka on a luxurious tour bus.

  Danny, as ever, was having a Skype conversation with Dee and cooing down the crystalline 6000-mile digital link at his daughter’s beautifully carefree face.

  “A spike? Get you with your jargon,” Dominic said, looking up from his iPad. “You’re getting good at this, aren’t you?”

  “If you count reading out record company emails as getting good, then yes. Wait till I get on to territories and units. You’ll get hard,” Johnny replied.

  “I will if you tell me how much we’re going to earn this year,” Dominic said, suddenly very interested in Johnny’s missive.

  “There’ll be turkey on the table this Christmas. And let’s just say you’ll be able to do better than last year’s Secret Santa.”

  Handing over his own iPad to Dominic, Johnny said, “Look at the figures. Bottom right. That’s a projected gross.”

  Screwing up his face and handing back the iPad and using a line from The Usual Suspects, complete with Hispanic accent – one of the bands favourite tour bus films – “In English please.”

  “You’ll all pull out over a hundred grand. Comfortably. With all the sales, touring and festival monies,” Johnny said.

  “Imagine going to the cashie and seeing that,” Mikee said, with a satisfied rub of his hands.

  “A hundred grand,” Dominic said with a low whistle. “You know we want to get the second album out by the end of the year, don’t you? Those figures won’t include that?”