by JS Taylor
Already I’m imaging how we might combine a garage sound into the bridge.
“It could be great,” I decide. My mind is working excitedly over the musical possibilities.
“Ok then,” says Cher. “Let’s get some stuff down on paper, and talk to the video crew.”
After some time collaborating, I’ve a completely reformed opinion of the Dev.as.station boys. I always liked Cher, and was excited to work with a new style of music. But now I have a real appreciation of their talent.
The boys remind me a little of the Lost Boys in Peter Pan. Sure, they’re rough round the edges, and unruly. But at the heart of it, they’re good lads. Not only that, they’re talented and hardworking. And they came from nothing, and managed to bring their musical ideas into an arena where it could be recognised.
I know how scary it was for me, to come from Wales to London and work as a singer. But in many ways they had it harder. With their tough-guy accents and street appearance, they must have experienced prejudice and snobbery at every turn. They’ve got through it all and I admire them for it. Not only that, but they are really great collaborators. If it wasn’t for George’s open hostility, working with them would be a dream.
After a few hours putting ideas together, we have a rough song outline and a concept. The video will take the form of a classic dance off. But the moves will be unexpectedly classical. Then, at the bridge, we’ll dance with one another as our music styles merge.
We explain our idea to the video crew, who seem gratifyingly enthusiastic. Even George has lost some of her frostiness now we’ve started working as a team.
This could be good, I find myself thinking.
I catch Tammy’s eye. I know she thinks the same. She turns adoringly to Cher, and I feel a little tug. Perhaps Tammy would be better off as a member of Dev.as.station. Certainly she’d get more of the limelight.
I brush the thought aside. The video can be left to the experts for the time being. But now we have to get the music nailed.
We spend a long few hours starting the musical mix, and make some good progress. Because of their format, Dev.as.station are used to sharing ideas as a big group, and are generous collaborators. Before long we have the song mostly nailed, and we know how it’s going to work visually.
“So we start out with our own styles complementing one another, and gradually blend?” confirms George, who has been the slowest to pick up the musical hook.
I nod. “Exactly.”
“Sounds… Good,” she says finally. “I think we’ve got some good things going on.”
We all turn to her in amazement. Even Dushane looks a little shocked at this. George has been nothing but negative all afternoon.
George is coming round to Dev.as.station. Who knew?
I’m still thinking over how things went, and how our music will progress, when we finish for the day. But once we’ve left the studio, my mind immediately veers back to Dez, and the sabotaged boat.
Should I tell Adam my fears? I want to protect him from my past with Dez. But I don’t want to put him at risk either.
My mind drifts uneasily back to the boat.
He wouldn’t have. Would he?
Tammy and George accept an offer to go for a drink with Dev.as.station. But with so much going on in my mind, I make my excuses.
An idea is formulating. I’m suddenly exhausted, and tired of hiding things.
So I tell everyone heading back to the Sing-Win house to work a little on our song.
Then I’m going to give Adam a call, and tell him the truth about Dez.
“Hey Summer!” calls George, as I head away from the group. “Don’t forget. My birthday party tomorrow. I’m expecting a decent gift since it’s my twenty-first.”
I grin back at her. Typical George. She’s only half joking.
We’ve been so busy with the band, that I’m not sure what she’s got arranged. Besides the fact George’s birthday will likely be in an extremely expensive bar with the snooty friends from her all-girl’s college.
“Sure thing,” I say, mentally making a note to buy a present in time for the party – which she’s holding tomorrow, the night before her actual birthday. And simultaneously wondering how much money I actually have in the bank. “See you later.”
“Laters,” grins George.
I give her my best forced smile back and turn away. Already my mind is flooded with dread, as to how Adam will react when I tell him the truth.
Chapter 9
Once I’ve made the decision to be honest with Adam, I feel as though a weight has been lifted.
Granted, I’m worried. I have no idea how he’ll take my concerns. He might decide our relationship is too risky.
At least I’ll know one way or another, I tell myself. That’s better than waiting.
Even so, I’m not looking forward to actually telling him. I play with my phone nervously as I arrive back at the house.
I’ll spend an hour composing, I decide, trying to quell the nerves in my stomach. Then I’ll be calm when I tell him.
The house is completely empty as I walk into the hallway. I guess the other collaborations are enjoying a drink in the pub too.
Part of me would like to be with them, enjoying that carefree world. But I’m glad I have some time to work on our song too. The more work I put in, the better the result will be.
My notebook is up in my room, so I bound up the stairs to get it. But as I reach the landing, I have a weird feeling. Like something is really wrong.
It’s just pre-phone call nerves, I tell myself. You’re anxious about calling Adam.
I turn the handle of the bedroom, and open the door.
My notebook is on the floor. In tatters.
I stare down at the ripped pages, scattering the floor.
What in the…? Did Scandelous do this?
I move towards the torn pages, feeling very, very uneasy. First the boat. Now someone is destroying my property.
Dez. Is it Dez?
But somehow I can’t believe it. He’s out of my life. How would he even get in?
I suddenly feel very alone in the empty house. It’s just me in here. I’m completely vulnerable.
I kneel to pick up the tattered remains of my notebook. My mouth twists, as I stare at the dismembered pages.
Someone has done a good job of tearing this up.
Suddenly there’s a voice behind me.
“Hello Summer.”
The voice is more accented than I remember it. Die-hard south London, straight from the streets.
I force my eyes upwards, but I can’t stop the tremble in my body when they light on the figure.
Slowly I force myself to stand.
“Dez,” I hear my voice come flat and cold.
My heart is in my mouth. His face is so familiar. It brings back all the old feelings of fear.
How did he get in here?
Dez could be called handsome. Though a deep scar disfigures him beneath his chin. And his black eyes have a weasel-like quality. Always searching for what advantage can be gained.
But today he looks different to how I remember. His eyes are bloodshot, and watery. His nose is red raw at the edges, and his skin looks yellowed and pale. My first thought is he’s gotten seriously into drugs since I last saw him.
Dez always dabbled socially – a habit I was too naïve to catch on to until just before we broke up. But now he looks terrible. Like a real junkie.
“How did you get in here?” I accuse, feeling a jolt of panic to see him like this.
Dez grins widely, revealing the single gold tooth far back in his jaw.
“Haven’t I told you before Summer? London is my manor. I can find you wherever you go.”
You didn’t find me before, I think defiantly. You had to wait for me to be on live TV.
But I keep the words to myself. I know from experience that anything can provoke Dez’s temper. And I’m far too frightened by the fact he managed to get inside.
Dez
takes a step towards me, and I flinch.
“Summer, Summer, Summer,” he says sadly. “What am I going to do with you?”
I stare back at him defiantly, refusing to answer.
I left you once before. I’m not that girl anymore.
Dez moves a little closer. He’s wiry rather than muscular, but he’s tall, towering over my slight frame. And physical threat pours off him.
He sniffs loudly, and passes a hand under his nose.
He’s been taking cocaine recently. Or worse.
The realisation fills me with greater fear.
Dez reaches out, and runs a hand along my jaw.
I’m frozen with terror and disgust. I can’t believe I ever let this man touch me. The idea of it repulses me.
But back when I met Dez… He wasn’t like this. Drugs have sunk him.
“Get out,” I whisper. “You can’t be in this house.”
I’m appalled at how easily I’m immobilised with fear. When I left Dez, I felt strong. How has he reduced me to a frightened little girl?
I mentally scream at myself to stop being a wimp.
It only half works.
“You belong to me Summer,” says Dez, tilting his head to look at me. “You don’t break those ties. You’re nothing without me, remember?”
I remember. But I’m not that girl anymore.
He rubs distractedly at his neck, as though it’s itching.
“When you left, you broke me,” he says. But his voice sounds angry rather than sad. “I’m doing a lot more of the white stuff,” he adds, sniffing again. “It’s your fault Summer.”
I feel a lurch of guilt, and a lump rises in my throat. By the looks of him, he’s doing more than just cocaine. Everything about him seems erratic and disjointed.
Summer. It’s not your fault.
For a moment, I’m shocked by the words, which seem to come from nowhere. Then I remember. Adam told me that.
I swallow down the lump, and force fire into my eyes.
“Your bad habits are nothing to do with me,” I reply, stepping back from him. “We’re over.”
His eyes flash.
“You don’t say when it’s over,” he says, his voice a deadly whisper. “You need me Summer.”
He shifts his tone slightly, to be coaxing.
“How is a little country mouse like you, going to survive in the big city?” he asks softly.
This is old Dez. When we very first met. And he suckered me in with his charm. But now it’s edged with a horrible drug-fuelled desperation.
“This business is too big for you,” he continues, his eyes earnest. “They’ll walk all over you Summer. They’ll take advantage of you. I won’t let that happen.”
Like a lightning flash, I hear Adam.
I want to protect you Summer.
And just like that, I have the strength.
“Go away Dez,” I say firmly. “I don’t know how you got in, but if you try to get near to me again, I’ll call the police.”
Dez’s face flickers. He’s not frightened of anything. But the police represent his highest threat.
“You wouldn’t dare,” he snarls.
“Yes, I would,” I say with certainty.
His face contorts, and suddenly he’s animal looking. I remember this Dez too. From the first time. The shock and the pain as his hand connected. The hard floor coming up to meet me. And the terrible feeling, that I was to blame. That I could have prevented it if I hadn’t made him so angry.
“You’re forgetting something, Summer,” he snarls.
“What?”
“You’re still under contract to me.”
I feel the blood freeze in my veins.
The contract.
I’d stupidly thought that Dez had forgotten about it. I signed it a long time ago. When he promised to help my career.
How could you be so stupid Summer? Of course he wouldn’t forget!
“What do you want Dez?” I say, defeated. I’m expecting he’ll ask for money, and wondering how I can get cash together.
The evil glare in his black eyes fades away.
“I want what’s best for you Summer,” he says slowly.
I watch his face carefully, wondering where he’s going with this.
“You’re singing a song about me,” he says. “You owe me. I want to manage your music again. All your music.”
No!
Of all the things he could demand, this is the worst.
My heart is in my throat. Money would have been hard. But I never expected this.
“You’re not serious,” I stammer.
“I am completely serious,” says Dez. “I want you back. With me. Where you belong.”
“That is never going to happen,” I say lifting my chin defiantly. “We’re over. I’m on Sing-Win now. And you never did anything for my career.”
“Your song is about me,” he says. “I have rights.”
“I can write songs about whoever I like,” I reply. “It doesn’t mean that song belongs to that person. You’re crazy Dez, if you think you have any rights to that song.”
Dez waits a moment, and I feel my nerves falter. Then he nails me with a steely gaze.
“Do you think I’m stupid Summer?” he spits.
I stare back at him, frightened by the venom in his words.
“Do you think I don’t know, how you got on the show?” he accuses.
“We won a place…”
“You’ve been whoring yourself,” he spits.
I shiver at his conviction, and my eyes widen in affront.
“You think I’m stupid, but I know you Summer,” he continues, his eyes black. “I saw it. Even on the snatches of TV footage I could see it. The way you look at Adam Morgan. You fucked him to get on the show.”
I press my lips together, hoping my face won’t give my away.
How much does he know about me and Adam?
“You’ve no proof…” I begin.
Suddenly Dez’s hand shoots out. My face ricochets back from the slap.
“Don’t you fucking lie to me,” he hisses. “You’re fucking Adam Morgan. It’s written all over your face. I know that’s how you got on Sing-Win.”
My hand moves to my hot cheek, where the slap is still ringing.
“How dare you?” My words come low and dark. “Fucking my way onto the show? That’s you Dez. That’s how you’d do things. Because you don’t have any talent of your own.”
I’m aware my words are about to earn me another slap. But I don’t care. I’m too furious.
“You could never understand what’s between me and Adam,” I continue, letting the words pour out. “You don’t know what it’s like to truly care for a person. You’re just about power and control.”
It takes a moment for Dez to absorb my words. He seems genuinely shocked that I’m speaking this way about Adam. But it only takes him a few seconds to return to his former diatribe.
“You can’t break with me that easily,” says Dez. “You only go when I say you can go Summer.”
“Why do you care?” I spit back. “You never loved me.”
Dez grins, but there’s no humour there.
“You’re mine Summer,” he says. “I was willing to give you a little time. To think things over. But if I can’t have you, no-one can. Remember?”
Of course I remember. Dez used to threaten me with this daily. And now his words make an ominous certainty in my mind.
“Don’t think I won’t use extreme measures,” he adds.
My earlier suspicion clicks firmly into place.
“You sabotaged the boat,” I accuse.
Dez’s black eyes are on mine.
“I saw how you looked at him,” he accuses, his voice full of hurt and bitterness. “You never looked at me that way.”
I hesitate, unsure of how to respond.
“You could have killed somebody,” I accuse, finally, hoping to appeal to his better nature. “Surely you didn’t want that?”
&n
bsp; “Better have you dead,” says Dez. “Than another man’s whore.”
I feel my stomach squeeze.
He’s insane. Did my hiding from him make him this way?
Once again I have the creeping feeling that this is all my fault.
It’s not your fault Summer. It’s the drugs. Look at the state of him.
Dez sees the hesitation in my face and smiles.
“I just want things the way they were,” he says. “I’m prepared to forgive and forget. We’ve both done bad things.”
I swallow, the tears rising up.
“You don’t treat someone like you treated me, if you love them,” I whisper.
Memories of his possessiveness are flooding back. How he forced me to stop seeing my friends one by one, until I had no-one to turn to.
Dez shakes his head. “It was because I loved you so much,” he says. “That’s why I got angry sometimes.”
Those words again.
I’ve heard this a lot, and it always used to churn me up. But this time, his words hit a dead cold place.
“I don’t want you back,” I say, trying to push some power into my voice. “I’ll never get back with you Dez.”
His face hardens.
“You’re under contract.”
“So sue me,” I spit. “I don’t care. The Sing-Win people have lawyers. They’ll get me out of it.”
I’m not so sure Sing-Win would take my part so early in the show, but it’s a good bluff.
Dez looks thoughtful. Always a bad sign.
“How’s your little friend doing?” he says finally. “What’s her name? Tammy?”
My stomach constricts.
“She’s nothing to do with this,” I say. My voice comes out high and frightened.
“Oh no?” Dez smiles evilly. “I think she put you up to this. This talking back to me. She always did have a big mouth, your friend Tammy.”
Dez pauses.
“And a bit of a reputation too,” he adds slowly. “In fact, I know quite a few boys in the hood, who like talking about what they did with your bitch friend.”
“You wouldn’t…” The lump is back in my throat again.
“Really dirty stuff, she’s into,” adds Dez. “The sort of thing which would make a good headline. If you know what I mean.”