The Rock 'N' the Roll. 'N That

by Steven J. Gill

  “Err, I think that’s a good time to call it a day,” Gareth, the studio’s pragmatic sound engineer said as he pushed his baseball cap back off his head and gave his receding crop a thorough scratch.

  Turning the studio intercom off, Mikee entered the recording room and attempted to pacify Danny, who was sat on the floor attempting to put the pieces of his guitar together – with all the frustrations of a child with a jigsaw missing several pieces.

  Back in the studio control room, Dominic winced at the scene playing out in front of him. Turning to Jamie, he said, “Go easy on him, he’s onboard with all this but let him stamp his mark on it. He was going on about some nonsense that he felt like a session musician.”

  Jamie nodded, feeling a slight pang of guilt at his friend’s irritations.

  “Think on J. We’re a band. This is our album. Yeah?”

  ***

  Given the uneasy tension that had seeped into the early stages of the ‘re-recording’ process, Johnny had kept a wide berth, letting the band resolve any differences amongst themselves.

  He had taken the liberty of sending the ‘new’ album to the label. They had been pressuring him for some material and he had assumed a rather ‘fuck it’ approach and sent them the whole album.

  Which had the opposite effect of his ‘get them off my back’ intentions…

  They loved it.

  Correction.

  The label abso-fucking-lutely loved it. Platinum units shifting loved it.

  Off the scale loved it. And wanted to hear the finished product.

  Yesterday.

  And without any consent from anyone Johnny sent a digital folder of the ‘first take’ of the album down to their A & R man.

  Who passed it straight on to the head of the label.

  Who then demanded to come up and hear it. In person. As soon as possible.

  ***

  With a somewhat less fraught day’s recording over, the band decided to reconvene for a post-studio pint – a habit that had died out in recent weeks. They had been asked to step in as headliners at the Manchester Arena for a benefit gig as the lead singer of the original headliners was having problems checking out of The Priory.

  The album was close to being completed and had multiple platinum shifting units written right through it.

  “It’ll crack America wide open for you,” Johnny had said - to a mixed bag of a response given the album’s genesis was Stateside.

  Having taken group ownership of Jamie’s work, the songs sounded even more extraordinary. Particularly the opening track, which had been worked into a momentum ascending behemoth – Dominic’s guitar ripping through some ridiculously great percussion laid down by Mikee and Dan.

  It was now Led Zep channelled through Manchester psychedelia with a quick detour to Chicago House and a stopover on Joe Strummer’s Westway. The best British album that Johnny had heard in years. The centrepiece of the album was an eight-minute, psychedelic epic that begged to be played loud and live. The album was an unmistakable classic that would sell by the absolute bucket load.

  “I’ll jump in with you Johnny,” Mikee said, as he poured his muscular frame into the black leather passenger seat of Johnny’s car. The suspension gave a little as he scooted the seat back to accommodate himself.

  “No bother dude. Album’s sounding amazing. But you knew that,” Johnny said as he cracked the window down and turned the stereo up. The outro to ‘Helter Skelter’ momentarily filled the car until Mikee’s thumb quashed the legendary ‘I’ve got blisters on my fingers’ moment just as Johnny was about to recite it parrot fashion.

  “I need a chat, boss. Don’t pull off just yet,” Mikee said as he removed his iPhone from the pouched pocket on his hoodie.

  Johnny turned off the ignition and took in a deep breath. The prodigiously talented drummer wasn’t one to mince his words and had seemed very much at ease throughout the recent sessions. Indeed, he had been responsible for calming Danny’s Mancunian-Irish frustrations.

  “What’s up man?” Johnny asked.

  “You need to see this,” Mikee said as he scrolled to the video library on his mobile.

  A jumpy image filled the small screen. Once the image had stopped jumping about, Johnny saw a face reflected in a mirror.

  Lara. Or at least it certainly looked like her.

  Holding the phone up to the large mirror in her luxurious Manhattan hotel suite, she had captured herself naked from the waist down.

  With a man between her legs.

  Johnny.

  The bottle green face of his prized Rolex together with his trademark Fred Perry polo shirt and dirty brown collar length hair was instantly recognisable to him.

  Closing his eyes, he uttered a barely audible, “Fuck,” to himself.

  “It’s you, isn’t it boss?” Mikee asked rhetorically. Willing the answer to be no.

  The image snapped off and Johnny leant forward, and repeatedly banged his head on the steering wheel.

  “What the fuck man? Tell me that wasn’t an ongoing thing,” Mikee said, a hurt, demanding tone in his voice.

  “You probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Johnny said, feeling his world caving in on him. “And where the fuck did you get that from anyhow?”

  Relaying the whole story, Johnny thought he was going to be sick when he heard that his very own ‘sex tape’ was being hosted on numerous porn sites in the Western world.

  Lara’s recording of his foolish moment of weakness had ‘somehow’ found its way onto the world wide web. Out there for everyone to see.

  A forty-something, slightly greying no-one featuring in a leaked ‘sex-tape’. With a supermodel. This doesn’t get any more ridiculous, Johnny thought as he struggled to compose himself.

  The drummer’s proclivity for all things pornographic had led to the discovery, and Johnny’s dismay couldn’t have been more apparent.

  “This is really fuckin’ bad,” Mikee said. Stating the very fucking obvious.

  “I know,” Johnny said in a whisper. “And it won’t be long before Jamie finds out about it.”

  “Then tell him before he does,” Mikee replied stoically. “He’s gonna find out. You have to tell him. Tell him what you told me.” The hurt in his eyes cut Johnny to the quick. He had not just betrayed Jamie, it was the whole band’s trust.

  “I will,” Johnny said slowly, thinking that his priority was to find out from Lara how in fuck’s name this guilty secret had found its way into the public domain.

  “I’ll make excuses for you. You drop me off at the boozer and go and sort your shit out and decide how you are going to deal with this,” Mikee said.

  “Thanks man,” Johnny said as he punched the drummer’s watermelon sized bicep, “I will.”

  After he had eased himself out of the passenger seat, Mikee leaned across and ‘street shook’ Johnny’s hand, fixing him with a well-intended glare. “Sort this.”

  Seeing Mikee enter the pub, Johnny again cracked the window and let the cold air rush in. He stared blankly through the windscreen feeling like he was stood in a wind tunnel being bombarded by his past and the potential wreckage of his future…

  ***

  “But why the fuck would you record it in the first place?” Johnny asked angrily.

  He had managed to contact Lara within a day of finding out about the ‘leak’ and was in no mood to stand on ceremony.

  “If you hadn’t been stupid or manipulating enough to film it, then it wouldn’t be beaming world-fuckin’-wide right now would it. Fuck’s sake!” Johnny rasped.

  “Now hold on, Mr. High and Mighty. If you hadn’t gone down on my sweet little pussy then none of this would have happened,” Lara replied coyly.

  “I don’t believe your phone was hacked,” Johnny retorted – just about resisting performing transatlantic air quotes. “And I didn’t ask you to get your cunt out. I know what I did was wrong, but fuck that if you think I instigated it!”

  “Tell that to Jamie. And don�
��t use that word in front of a lady,” Lara said, that goading tone again so prevalent in her voice.

  “I am going to tell him. That’ll be the end to your little game.”

  “Sure you will. Kiss goodbye to your little cash cow either way,” Lara said, laughing down the phone at Johnny.

  “Fuck off Lara. You horrible cunt,” Johnny said coldly.

  “Enjoy the journey down Johnny Harrison. ’Cos you ain’t talking your ass out of this one. Ciao.”

  Slamming the phone down into the sofa, Johnny pinched the bridge of his nose and slumped back into the cushions. The bitch is probably right, he thought, this was a lose-lose situation with Jamie and the band.

  And Cally. Who he truly loved, and he knew this could break her heart and trust in him…

  Chapter 66

  As part of the ‘therapy’ that Jamie had undergone in LA, he had agreed that he would stop his obsessive Lara cyber searches. This had given Johnny a couple of days’ grace to steel himself before he made his confession.

  Forgive me Jamie, for I have sinned. Thou shalt not perform fellatio on thy lead singer’s on/off supermodel girlfriend.

  Even if one is off one’s nut on industrial strength cocaine…

  First, a summons from Cally for a coffee and some ‘big news’. He had decided he had to make clear what had happened, but this felt almost harder than telling Jamie. She had to know from him though.

  She had been very quiet, nothing new there – almost nervous on the phone when they had spoken, but she had said it was urgent that they met. That morning.

  Surely, she can’t have been browsing YouPorn searching for middle aged man punching well over his weight he thought…

  Having dealt with the morning’s emails – a release date for the third album had been confirmed for a month’s time – Johnny showered and headed off with condemned-man-like trepidation.

  “Hey lovely lady,” Johnny said as Cally opened the front door to him. He kissed her on the proffered cheek and accepted her offer of a coffee.

  Bringing the mugs through to the front room, Johnny looked at her. Her wavy brown hair worn over one shoulder, her gorgeous blue eyes. Perfect. As ever.

  “I’ve got something to tell you,” said Johnny as he placed his mug on the small wooden table.

  “Me too. And I can’t imagine your news is bigger than this. So, me first,” Cally said. A smile played across her lips.

  “You first,” Johnny replied. Playing her game, and happy to delay his personal bombshell.

  “I never expected this. You know. Us,” Cally said, leaning across from her sofa and taking Johnny’s hand in hers.

  He nodded his appreciation and squeezed her hand.

  “Anyhow. I’ve checked and double checked,” she said, letting out a nervous giggle. “And I’m pregnant!”

  Throwing her arms around Johnny, she let out a schoolgirl on the front row at a boyband concert squeal.

  Speechless. Utterly speechless.

  “I don’t know what to say. That’s amazing,” said Johnny as the maelstrom of his world sped up making him feel like an astronaut undergoing centrifugal training.

  “What’s your big news then?” Cally asked, her cheeks flushed red.

  Stammering slightly, he said, “Oh err, it’s just the new album is out in a couple of months’ time and sounds unbelievable. I, err, I’ve got a copy in the car for you.” His mouth drier than a Saharan sandstorm.

  Sitting for a further hour nodding and oohing and ahhing in what he perceived to be the right places, Johnny was floundering like the first fish trying to make its maiden trek on to terra firma.

  Abruptly, he then got up. “Sorry Cally, I’m running late. I’ve got to scoot.” Hugging her into him tightly, he screwed his eyes up. “I love you. I really do. I love you both.”

  As he left, he heard Cally shout, “And not a word yet. As we agreed!”

  Getting into the car, Johnny felt like the world was smothering him - waving and forcing a smile as Cally waved him off as she playfully patted her tummy.

  And then the shit really hit the fan.

  His phone pinged announcing the arrival of an email. From the label.

  Sitting at the traffic lights, he opened the message.

  Skim reading, he read four words that sent him reeling: ‘Model ODs on Heroin’

  “Fuck me!” Johnny said to himself, utterly aghast.

  Pulling over as soon as he could, he read the entire email from the band’s press officer – who it appeared had taken over the vigil of Lara watch from Jamie.

  A short press release from Lara’s people – “Ms Bearheart was indeed rushed to hospital after collapsing outside her apartment. An exceptionally busy workload and the stresses of her recent miscarriage have caused her to make some very poor lifestyle decisions. Some of the company that Ms Bearheart has kept of late had introduced her to certain Class A substances that she would normally have been totally opposed to and would normally have avoided at all costs. This ‘Rock and Roll’ lifestyle is not something she actively pursued, and she feels very much that she has been victim of extreme peer pressure to sustain certain relationships. Lara sees herself very much as a positive role model to young people, particularly young women, and completely regrets this reckless and isolated episode. Furthermore, Lara will be entering a full drug rehabilitation programme when she is well enough to leave hospital. We would ask that her privacy is respected throughout this ordeal.”

  Feeling light headed, Johnny threw the car door open in order that he could grab a bottle of water from a nearby shop.

  A car horn screeched as a driver had to swerve out of the path of Johnny’s car door. Holding up a hand in acknowledgment, Johnny bought the water and slumped onto the pavement outside the shop with the demeanour of someone begging for change.

  Even with Jamie’s abstinence from digital stalking he couldn’t hope to avoid these lurid headlines. Four very simple words. One very complicated situation.

  And then Johnny’s phone rang.

  Jamie.

  Bracing himself, he said, “J.”

  “Johnny! What the fuck’s going on. There’s a full-on scrape of press at my front gate, saying Lara nearly died and it’s my fault! What the fuck.”

  “I’m on my way,” was all Johnny could muster.

  His day was just lurching from one headfuck to another.

  Arriving at Jamie’s house, there was indeed a veritable scrape of press photographers. Putting on sunglasses and putting a newspaper against the car window, Johnny was buzzed through the gates.

  He was greeted by a frantic Jamie. “Thanks for coming so quick. What the fuck is going on?”

  Sighing and with a slow shake of his head, he said, “Sit down J. And I’ll fill you in. I’ve seen her statement and I know how the press will spin it.”

  Johnny proceeded to show Jamie the almost accusatory statement. The intent was plain for all to see. And it was obvious which way the Bearheart finger was pointing.

  “Look Johnny. I did it once or twice. Smoked with her. And yeah, it was good, but it was her gear and I’ve never touched it since. I swear,” Jamie said beseechingly.

  “I believe you. 100%. But try convincing that lot if they get the bit between their teeth,” Johnny said, his hand on Jamie’s shoulder.

  Inhaling deeply, Johnny braced himself for his own revelation.

  “I loved her Johnny. I really loved her,” Jamie said, his head in his hands. “I would never do or say anything to hurt her. I’m sure she loved me as well.”

  Here we go, thought Johnny. Here we fucking go.

  “Look J. Lara is many things, and I’m sure you did have something. But she’s not all she seems, y’know,” Johnny said, deliberating over his words meticulously.

  “But that’s just the side the public get to see. I saw the real her. I did!” Jamie protested.

  “Do you remember when you were in London and the press were showing up wherever you went. I told you Lara was tipping the p
ress off so she could promote her clothing brand,” Johnny said.

  “Yeah. It was a load of bullshit. Something or nothing. I wasn’t that bothered,” Jamie said as he pulled at his hair irritably.

  “Well. Lara was pissed off that I told you it was all staged. She had a bit of grudge against me after that. Thought I was too protective of you and that.”

  “She liked you? You always seemed to get on,” Jamie replied.

  “Yeah well. Remember when you were stranded in Vegas after Dom’s stag and I was in New York,” Johnny said, fidgeting with the drawstring on his hoodie.

  “Yeah?” Jamie said. A vein in his temple seemed to throb slightly.

  “I met Lara at some party. Did a load of coke with her. A shitload of coke. Anyhow we went back to her hotel. I called you from there but couldn’t get through. Do you remember?”

  “Vaguely. I was on Dom’s stag,” Jamie deadpanned.

  “Anyhow, I was getting ready to leave. Catch a cab back to my hotel and that…”

  “What the fuck happened, Johnny?” Jamie said, standing up and starting to pace up and down his spacious front room.

  “I went for a piss, came back to say my goodbyes and Lara was in her bedroom.” Closing his eyes, Johnny said his next sentence very slowly. “And I went down on her.”

  “What the fuck do you mean? You went down on her,” Jamie said, surprisingly calmly. He had now stopped pacing and was stood over Johnny.

  “Jamie. I’m so sorry. So fucking sorry. She was sat there half naked. And asked me to go down on her.” Squeezing his hands either side of his head, Johnny looked up at Jamie.

  Who stared back blankly.

  “I don’t get this. She just told you to go down on her, so you did.”

  “Yes and no,” Johnny replied meekly.

  Still not raising his voice, much to Johnny’s surprise. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Yes, I did. But it wasn’t straightforward. I didn’t fuck her. I just left. She told me it was blackmail, so I wouldn’t stick my nose in where she didn’t want it.”

  “Unfortunate turn of phrase,” Jamie said coldly.

  “I know I shouldn’t have done it, Jamie. I fuckin’ love you man. You know that!” Johnny said, standing and opening his arms wide.