The Story of Us

by Barbara Elsborg

  “We can tell them the truth. We met when we were teenagers and we just got back together after my father died.”

  “And when they ask where I live?”

  “We’ll say you’re staying at my place for a while.”

  “And if they ask what I do?”

  “You’re an inventor.” Zed smiled. “They’re not going to interrogate you. You’ll be fine.”

  Zed brushed his fingers against Caspian’s and Caspian grasped his hand.

  “You sure you want to hold hands?” Zed asked.

  “Don’t you?”

  “I’d be honoured to hold your hand.”

  “I should think so,” Caspian said. “Anyway, if anyone objects you can hit them with your guitar case.”

  Zed wrapped his fingers tighter around Caspian’s.

  The moment they walked into the garage where the band was going to rehearse, and Caspian locked eyes with the guy strumming a guitar, he knew he wasn’t welcome.

  Fin, he assumed, came straight over to Zed and nodded in Caspian’s direction. “You know the rule. No guests. Who is he?”

  “My boyfriend. Caspian.”

  The tall, rake-thin redhead’s cheeks twitched before he gave a snort of disbelief. “Boyfriend? Since when?”

  “Since I was fourteen.”

  That shut Fin up but Caspian knew there was a problem. It wasn’t just the not wanting strangers to hear them rehearse, Fin fancied Zed.

  “Everyone, meet Caspian,” Zed said. “Jonesie is the crazy dude on the drums who never shuts up, Akash plays bass and rarely speaks, and the moody one is Fin.”

  Akash and Jonesie smiled and waved at him. Zed went to the other side of the garage to sort out his guitar leaving Fin alone with Caspian.

  Fin glared. “Just get lost for a few hours while we rehearse.”

  “Are you that bad?” Caspian widened his eyes. “Don’t worry. I won’t criticise.”

  “Fucking arsehole,” Fin muttered under his breath. “I don’t like you.”

  “Sadly for you, my give-a-fuck is broken.”

  Caspian watched as Fin decided what to do. Fight or flee. The guy walked away.

  “We need to get started,” Fin said. “We don’t have long. Pete’s coming later with some news. He wouldn’t tell me what it was.”

  “Pete Corrigan is our manager,” Zed told Caspian.

  Zed tuned up and Caspian went to sit on an upturned box in the corner.

  “We’ll run through Hurricane, Edge of Town and then Heavy Breathing,” Fin said. “We make a mistake, we start again. Mobiles off. Mine will record. We tuned up? Okay.” He pressed a button on his phone and set it aside. “Ready? One, two, three…”

  Caspian couldn’t take his eyes off Zed. The band’s energy was appropriately electrifying, and the breath caught in his throat. Hurricane was about the power of love that can draw a couple together, lift them up in joy, then sweep them apart. Fin might have had the solo riff, but it was Zed’s voice that gave the song its soul. They were Zed’s lyrics, he was sure of it. The song sounded great to Caspian, but Fin made them start again four times and play it through twice more before they moved on to the next.

  Edge of Town wasn’t as impressive. The lyrics didn’t fit the music which was too fast for a song about living on the edge of everything. It felt to Caspian as if it should be slow and soulful when you were singing about loneliness and despair. But then what did he know? He’d sometimes imagined his poems set to music but he wasn’t musical enough to compose a melody.

  He started when a guy suddenly appeared next to him. He was a short man in his forties with thick white hair, dressed in a flashy blue suit. Caspian assumed this was the manager, Pete Corrigan. When they finished the song, Corrigan made a carry on gesture and they played Heavy Breathing.

  Zed had the lead.

  “Promise you won’t let them find us

  My heart’ll break if they do

  You breathe too loud and they’ll hear us

  And you know just what they’ll do.

  Hiding’s all that’s left now

  If they catch us we are done

  At least we’d be together

  Climbing to the sun.”

  Caspian watched Zed’s face as he played and it was as if he became a different person. He was the music, the music was him. The sound filled Caspian’s lungs. The chorus was one of those that was instantly memorable. Caspian found himself tapping his foot. When the song ended, he clapped and Zed caught his eye and smiled.

  Fin came over to Corrigan and shook his hand. “Thanks for coming.”

  “You’re sounding good, guys,” Corrigan said.

  The others came over and shook the manager’s hand.

  “Sorry about your father, Zed.” Corrigan squeezed Zed’s shoulder.

  Zed nodded.

  “And you are?” Corrigan turned to Caspian.

  “Zed’s boyfriend, Caspian,” Fin said.

  “My hobby is ventriloquism.” Caspian spoke through closed lips.

  Corrigan laughed. “And what did you think of them?”

  “Heavy Breathing was brilliant. Hurricane too. Energetic. With Edge of Town I wasn’t sure the lyrics fit the music.”

  “Oh fuck off,” Fin muttered.

  Corrigan swivelled to face him. “That going to be your response when a fan says something you don’t like? You’re going to tell them to fuck off? If it is, you might as well give up now.”

  “He’s not a fan. He’s never heard us before.” Fin’s voice was sullen.

  Corrigan glared. “He’ll never be a fan if you act like that and I happen to think he’s right. The tempo makes you rush those lyrics. They’re both good on their own but not together.”

  “We could slow it down, maybe change the key,” Zed said.

  “Try it,” Corrigan said.

  The four of them messed around for a few minutes and then Fin led them in.

  Corrigan nodded his head to the beat. “Better?” he asked Caspian.

  “Yes.”

  “Good ear. Do you play?”

  “The guitar but not well, apart from Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.”

  Corrigan looked him up and down. “Do you sing?”

  “Only rap and opera.”

  The manager laughed. “Are you squeaky clean?”

  Caspian’s heart gave a painful thump. “Sorry. I’m filthy.”

  “Pity.”

  “Do you think they need a…look?” Caspian asked. “I’ve never seen them play before so I don’t know what they usually wear but something that links them together might be good.”

  “Such as.”

  “Silver lurex jumpsuits.”

  “Alternately?”

  “Only black and grey clothes? Some distinctive footwear? Hats? They all seem to be very different characters so maybe that would be something to build on.”

  Corrigan leaned back and crossed his legs. “Go on then.”

  “I’m not sure I know them well enough.”

  “Try anyway.”

  It was so tempting to come up with a persuasive argument for Fin to lose all his hair and have piercings all over his face. “I know nothing about image creation but maybe Fin could wear black with a shark’s fin on a black T-shirt. Jonesie is funky. I’d have him in something wild. Akash would look cool in a suit. Zed should be naked, obviously.”

  Corrigan laughed and turned back to watch the band.

  When they’d finished the number, they came back to where Caspian and Corrigan were sitting.

  “What did you think?” Corrigan asked Fin.

  “Yeah, it’s much better slower and in a minor key.” Fin smiled at Zed but the smile came nowhere near his eyes.

  “Right. My news,” Corrigan said. “I got you a spot at Glastonbury.”

  There was a stunned silence before Jonesie exclaimed, “What the fucking fuckity fuck?”

  “A pub in Glastonbury, right?” Fin asked.

  “No, not a pub. The festival,” Corrigan
said.

  “Next year?” Akash asked.

  “There’s no festival next year. I’m talking about this year. Twenty-third of June. The Park Stage. One of my bands has had to pull out and I’m giving you the chance instead. You’re lucky I have the right connections. Your slot is twelve fifteen to five past one. You need between ten and fifteen numbers ready. You should be able to play at least nine.”

  “Oh my God, that’s unbelievable.” Fin was bouncing around hugging everyone.

  Fortunately not me.

  “Draw up your playlist and send it to me,” Corrigan said. “We need to have a think about your image. I’ll be in touch.”

  The band erupted when he’d gone. Zed hugged Caspian and kissed him.

  “Congratulations.” Caspian put an innocent look on his face. “Can I have your autograph and your boxers? I can see a way to make money on eBay. Or I—”

  “We need to arrange more practice sessions,” Fin interrupted. “This weekend. Saturday and Sunday. Here or at your place, Zed?”

  “Tomorrow I’m going to Cornwall for a week.”

  Fin stared at him in disbelief. “What the hell? You can’t.”

  “Yes, I can. It’s all arranged. We know all our stuff really well. Corrigan won’t want us to do anything new. It’s just a matter of deciding which songs we want to play and in what order. Glastonbury’s a month away.”

  “You’re fucking telling me a holiday is more important than playing at Glastonbury?”

  “No, but it’s equally important to me.”

  “Or to him?” Fin glared at Caspian.

  “I’m just going outside for a bit.” Caspian left the garage.

  Maybe Zed would decide not to go to Cornwall. Caspian wouldn’t blame him. Fuck! Glastonbury! That’s huge. And if they make it…

  I’m a liability.

  Caspian knew he was looking well into the future. It took time for bands to succeed. Though maybe Electric Ice’s rise to fame would be meteoric. But what if one of the band members had a boyfriend who had a conviction for causing death by dangerous driving? Corrigan might tell Zed he had to choose between Caspian and the band. And he’d choose me.

  That was neither a guess nor a hope. Caspian knew Zed would choose him.

  The weight of that knowledge pushed him to walk away down the line of garages. He’d choose me and I can’t let him.

  Though maybe it wasn’t as bad as he was thinking. There were plenty of rock stars who’d been to jail and he wasn’t even in the band. He took a deep breath. If it came to Zed having to make a choice, if that fuckwit Fin found out about Caspian’s past and told Corrigan, if the band members wanted Zed out if he stayed with Caspian … Then I won’t stay around for him to have to choose. But for now, he waited.

  Early the next morning, they packed the car for the trip to Cornwall.

  “One small bag is all I need,” Henry said. “What the hell are the three of you taking?”

  “I’ve got all the clothes that you’ll realise you wanted,” Jonas said.

  Henry muttered under his breath. He’d heaved a sigh when Caspian and Zed had packed their guitars and a small amp. Caspian hadn’t wanted to take his but Zed had an adapter cable that would allow them to plug in both instruments and Caspian had given way. Apparently, the cottage where they were staying was isolated so they could make as much noise as they wanted. While we are out, Henry had added.

  Caspian sat in the back with Zed and Jonas slid onto the front passenger seat with a chuckle. “No more shouting shotgun, Zed?”

  “Nope. There’s plenty to entertain me in the back.”

  “We have a TV?” Caspian asked. “What button do I press?”

  Zed rolled his lovely eyes and Caspian bit back his smile.

  “Oh, I forgot to mention I get travel sick on long journeys,” Caspian said. “I’ll try not to throw up.”

  He tricked them for a moment. Three horrified faces before Henry laughed. Caspian smiled. Everything was going to be okay. He liked them and they liked him. There’d be no more panic attacks. He’d join the inventors club Henry had told him about. He’d work hard. He’d be a success. No more negative thoughts. No more looking back. If Zed stayed with the band, they’d make it work. Caspian amazed himself with his ability to switch so quickly, except he wasn’t convinced it was entirely a good thing. He should be more balanced. But was he hoping for too much, too soon?

  Caspian held onto Zed’s hand, rubbing his thumb over Zed’s palm. He stared out of the window watching the world go by as the three of them talked about Glastonbury. The last thing Fin had smugly said to Caspian yesterday was that tickets for the festival had sold out an hour after they’d gone on sale last October, so there was no way Caspian could go. When Zed had given Henry and Jonas the news, Jonas had opened champagne while Henry grabbed his phone and left the room. When he came back, he announced he’d arranged tickets for the three of them. Was there anything the guy couldn’t do?

  Even at five in the morning, London traffic was heavy but once they reached the motorway, it flowed more freely. Henry drove fast but not over the speed limit. Caspian couldn’t help wondering if that was for his benefit.

  “Have you two decided on when and where you’re getting married?” Zed asked.

  “Next summer,” Jonas said. “Westminster Abbey.”

  “What?” Zed gasped.

  Caspian elbowed him. “Gullible,” he mouthed.

  “We haven’t decided where yet,” Henry said.

  “We need to decide because of booking a venue for the reception,” Jonas pointed out.

  “How many guests?” Zed asked.

  “About a hundred,” Jonas said as Henry said, “No more than twenty.”

  Jonas draped his hand over Henry’s shoulder and stroked his ear. “Eighty.”

  “Twenty-two.”

  “Seventy.”

  “Twenty-three.”

  Jonas sighed. “Sixty.”

  “Fine. At my parents’ place.”

  “Okay.”

  Zed glanced at Caspian and smiled. Caspian liked listening to Jonas and Henry. They argued good-naturedly and if one of them did get annoyed, the other quickly snapped them out of it. He could see why Zed liked them so much. They were kind, generous, fun guys. If he and Zed made it as a couple, he hoped they’d be like the pair sitting in front of them.

  He was glad Zed had gone to live with them. He deserved people who’d think about him twenty-four hours a day, who’d worry for his happiness, his future. People who wanted to keep him safe forever, who’d worry about who he’d meet, who’d love him, who’d hurt him. That was the sort of parent Caspian wanted to be, if it ever happened. Someone who cared.

  Caspian was impressed with the cottage. Zed had been before and told him it was a lovely place and he was right. Old on the outside, sparkling modern on the inside, it was equipped with everything needed for a holiday. Almost too much, Caspian thought. Shelves laden with books and jigsaws and board games. Lots of original paintings on the walls. It looked like a home though there were no photos.

  The cottage sat on a clifftop with stunning sea views and a private pathway to the beach. The sandy cove below was apparently never crowded because there was only a small car park. The fridge was crammed with food Jonas had ordered, and the wetsuits and surf boards were in the garage, along with four bikes, kites, buckets and spades, a paddling pool and water shooters.

  “We’ll take it in turns to prepare meals,” Jonas said. “Plenty of choice of restaurants if we want to eat out. Everywhere will be busier next week because it’s half-term, but not as manic as in the summer.”

  Zed turned to Caspian. “You want to surf, play our guitars, go exploring, or read a book?”

  “Is read a book a euphemism?” Caspian asked.

  “Yes,” Zed said, and Henry and Jonas groaned.

  “Let’s go surfing,” Caspian said. “It takes me ages to read a book.”

  “Not that long.” Zed smirked.

  “
Well, depends how exciting it is.”

  “I can find you a really exciting one.”

  “Better than the last one? That was pretty exciting at the end.”

  “Hey, it was great all the way through.”

  “Stop it, the pair of you,” Jonas said. “Eat first and then we’ll all go down to the beach.”

  Caspian was happy. Yet worry about letting happiness slip from his grasp came into his mind more than he wanted it to. He felt guilty for feeling good about life and even though he knew that was stupid, it made no difference. He had to accept there’d be blips while he adjusted. Maybe forever. He’d cope.

  He helped Jonas make tuna sandwiches for their lunch and they ate outside. Jonas and Zed talked about surfing and the size of the waves they’d caught last year. Caspian only half-listened.

  “You’re quiet,” Henry said when Zed and Jonas took the empty plates back in. “Are you okay?”

  Caspian nodded.

  “It takes a while to get your mind around being free. Give yourself time and space to get used to things. Don’t put pressure on yourself or expect too much. Everything changed when you walked out of jail but you don’t get your life back immediately in the way you might have thought.”

  “Talking from experience?” Caspian snapped more sharply than he’d intended.

  “Not five years’ experience but I was once held captive in Afghanistan for three months.”

  Caspian’s jaw dropped. “What did you do?” Oh fuck he won’t tell me. “Steal a camel?”

  “Something like that.” Henry smiled.

  Military? SAS? It didn’t surprise him.

  “I know you’re right,” Caspian said. “It is hard to get my head around everything. Five years of being fed, clothed, given a bed to sleep in with not a single day under my control.”

  “But you have control now and choice. You can make your own decisions. No doors are locked. You can do what you like, within reason. Take it steady, that’s all I’m saying.”

  Caspian nodded.

  “Your family did a terrible thing. Your father in particular. But you made it worse than it needed to be by not pleading guilty. It made you look arrogant and uncaring and I know that’s not true.”

  “Would you have pleaded guilty if you’d been in my position?”