This Beats Perfect

by Rebecca Denton

  This afternoon in the studio there had been a particularly difficult one, though, as they put the final touches on a new track – a real classic Memphis blues number which Amelie adored, and the only thing left to do was prepare for Dee to come and lay down the vocals for their duet. Amelie had allowed herself to hope that Maxx might keep the track with her singing, but as the day wore on she realised it was nothing but a fantasy. Of course Maxx wanted Dee to sing on his track. It made commercial sense, as well as practical sense. It was a love song between two real lovers.

  But he’d gotten a little under her skin, this handsome, southern guy with his beautiful voice and his gentle, polite charms who could play guitar with the ferocity of a fist fight. It was going to be hard to say goodbye.

  ‘Taxi’s here, Amelie!’ Maisie squealed, jolting Amelie out of her daydream.

  She shoved Amelie out the door, and the two of them took off towards Angel to meet the boys. The plan was to have some food and beers and then head to the venue.

  Maisie put the finishing touches on Amelie as the taxi headed down Balls Pond Road and pulled over just outside a dark and pokey but buzzing pub called The Ship, which served ‘proper’ British food with a cult following. The jukebox was loud, the lights were low, and the atmosphere was pure London – part punk, mildly earnest and a little bit troubadour.

  ‘What makes the food “proper”?’ Amelie whispered to Maisie.

  ‘Fat. And sugar,’ she replied grimly.

  It was chosen as a venue because it was dark and pokey, as the most important thing for Maxx was that he could manage a night out without being hassled. They’d booked a back booth with table service for extra privacy.

  ‘Take a look,’ Maisie held her mirror up. ‘You look delicious, Amelie. Just beautiful!’

  Amelie had just the lightest make-up on, but with a little gloss on her lips. Her natural hair had dried perfectly, falling in waves across her face. She definitely looked older than eighteen, but the result was pretty subtle.

  ‘Wow, Maisie. You should totally do this for a living.’

  They squeezed through the tiny entranceway and into the pub, where the music was loud enough to feel happening but not so loud you couldn’t hear yourself think. She immediately saw Clint waving from a back booth, a big broad smile across his face.

  ‘AMMMMELIE!’ He stood up and squeezed past the queuing customers to give her a hug. ‘They’re with us!’ he nodded to the waiter who gave him a friendly wink. ‘That’s Johnny. And yes, I’ve been there. You must be Maisie?’

  ‘Hello!’ she smiled.

  ‘I’ve heard a lot about you!’ he said warmly.

  Julian and Maxx were both on their second beers when Amelie slid into the booth. She was relieved but also a little disappointed not to be sitting next to Maxx, but found herself directly across from him. He smiled at her, his eyes lighting up when she sat down.

  ‘The lady of the moment,’ Maxx smiled.

  Amelie blushed, but accepted his gratitude. She did feel she had really made a difference to the record and it felt like an incredible achievement.

  ‘Oh my god, yes, Julian told me!’ Clint’s eyes were dancing. ‘I mean, this is just such exciting news. Good for you! Obviously got your father’s rare talent in the studio, then.’

  ‘She sure does. And by the way, you look beautiful,’ Maxx said, his eyes wandering all over Amelie, who was starting to feel overwhelmed by the attention.

  Maxx looked perfect. He was wearing a brushed cotton navy shirt over a black T-shirt, his usual blue jeans, and his thick dark hair was damp, hanging across his dark eyes. She could smell fresh shampoo and expensive cologne. Two of his fingers had fresh white plasters covering cracked calluses from playing too much guitar.

  ‘I need an alcoholic drink!’ Maisie interrupted, waving at the waitress.

  ‘So, Maxx, have you enjoyed your time in London?’

  ‘Oh, so much,’ he said slowly, moving his eyes off Amelie as the waitress came across and took their orders. The four others chose beer, while Amelie opted for a red wine.

  ‘See, you’re already Parisian!’ Maisie declared, before very matter-of-factly updating the table on Amelie’s news. ‘Amelie is visiting her mum in Paris tomorrow. Amelie lived there when she was little. Her mum’s a chef.’

  ‘Well … more a cook,’ Amelie corrected. ‘But she just loves Paris. Hence my name. Hence her moving there for the summer without me.’

  The beers and wine arrived, along with water and bread, and everyone placed their orders with the pale-eyed, silver-haired waitress, who couldn’t keep her eyes off Maxx – not that he seemed to notice. He was spending a lot of time staring at Amelie; she could feel his eyes on her and, in order to avoid completely falling to pieces, she was desperately trying not to look back.

  ‘Excusa moi. May I borrow a pen pour vous?’ Clint asked the waitress in his best worst French.

  ‘Oui,’ she replied with a smile, handing him a spare one from the pouch around her waist.

  ‘God, what’s coming?’ groaned Julian, dramatically putting his head in his hands.

  ‘Okay, so since we’re hosting our guest Maxx tonight, we need to play a little getting to know each other game,’ Clint announced.

  Julian rolled his eyes and mouthed ‘sorry’ to the group as Clint tore up a piece of paper into five and put the pen in the middle of the table.

  ‘I LOVE THESE GAMES!’ Maisie grabbed the pen. ‘What do I do? I want to go first!’

  ‘Everyone has to write something about themselves on a piece of paper, and then fold it up and put it in this glass. A confession. The more sordid the better. Preferably it includes sex, drugs or rock and roll, someone at the table … or a celebrity.’ He popped an empty water glass into the centre of the table. ‘Then we each take one out and have to guess who wrote what.’

  ‘Oooh, dangerous. I love it,’ Maisie laughed.

  Amelie looked at her piece of paper and wondered what she should write. She thought about something from her childhood, or her interests, and realised her life – despite all its music – was pretty un-rock and roll. Then she remembered one incident, over five years back. ‘I smoked a joint when I was 12’ she wrote, and slipped it into the glass.

  She had. It was a catastrophe, and one of the main reasons she’d never touched the stuff since. When her dad was having a bath, she had found his stash in the kitchen drawer and sparked it up. When her dad walked back in, he furiously made her a chocolate thick shake and told her to watch South Park lying down. Unfortunately, she’d spent the next two hours with her head down the loo, suffering what her dad called a whitey.

  She didn’t stay at her father’s often after that night.

  ‘I couldn’t help but notice …’ The waitress was back to lay down the cutlery, and was trying to spark up conversation with Maxx. ‘Only, you look so much like him. Are you Maxx Cooke?’

  ‘Um, yes.’ He smiled kindly at her.

  The waitress blushed wildly. ‘I knew it! Can I get a photo before you go?’

  ‘Well,’ Maxx lowered his voice, ‘if you don’t mind, I’m kind of trying to have a quiet night with my friends. I really don’t want to draw any attention. I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Enough said! I hope London shows you a proper good time.’ She stopped short of winking at him, but Amelie couldn’t help pulling a face as she sashayed off.

  ‘What?’ Maxx asked Amelie. ‘What’s with the face?’

  ‘Jesus! Does that always happen? She’s so brazen!’

  ‘What?’ Maxx looked genuinely puzzled, shaking his head.

  Amelie stopped herself, realising she sounded jealous, and waved her hand dismissively, eliciting a raised eyebrow from Maisie. ‘Nothing. Don’t worry.’

  ‘Okay, is everyone done?’ Clint asked.

  ‘I need to do mine again!’ Maisie wailed. ‘It’s too boring.’

  When the food arrived – sharing plates of fancy scotch eggs, potatoes, ham hock n’ peas, and mini fish and chips
– the game was well under way.

  ‘I watched my parents have sex,’ Maisie said after unwrapping the first piece of paper. ‘Oh my god! That’s disgusting!’ She looked around the table, eyeballing each of them before settling on Maxx. She waved a finger at him. ‘Just because you’re from the south, I’m guessing it was you,’ she grinned.

  ‘Sorry. I’ve never had that pleasure. What happens if she guesses wrong?’ he asked Clint. ‘There needs to be punishment!’

  Clint laughed. ‘Drink?’

  Maisie didn’t need to be told twice, so she took a swig of her beer.

  ‘Well, it’s not me and it’s definitely not Amelie. Hmmm … It could be either of you, but since Julian can’t look me in the eye, I’m going for Julian?’

  ‘Yes! It’s me.’

  ‘I hope you weren’t, like, seventeen or something!’ Amelie laughed.

  ‘No, no. It’s a terrible story actually. I was going through my mother’s drawers, as you do, and they suddenly arrived home early from some charity dinner thing, and so I did what any young gay boy would do – I hid in the closet. It was awful. Mum did a weird dance. And dad was not at all a performer.’

  ‘Ewwwww.’

  ‘Mum found me asleep there the next morning. We never spoke of it again. And now I’m gay,’ he said dramatically. ‘Okay who’s next?’

  Maxx jumped in and pulled out a piece of paper, as the others began to help themselves to the delicious food on the table.

  ‘I once licked Rihanna’s Louboutin,’ Maxx announced, reading his piece of paper. ‘Good grief. Well I’m pretty sure I know who this is,’ he said, laughing at Clint and Julian, ‘especially since I’m pretty sure we were on the line-up with Rihanna at that festival in Spain. Am I right, Clint?’

  ‘That’s gross!’ Amelie laughed. ‘Although, I think I would probably try to lick her if she were in my vicinity.’

  ‘Yup!’ agreed Maisie.

  ‘Yep. It was me. And it was in Spain,’ Clint joked. ‘But it wasn’t actually on her foot.’

  ‘Booo!’ said Julian. ‘That’s a boring confession! Did you know Rihanna is really uninvolved with her music? She literally turns up and lays down her vocal to an MP3. It’s extraordinary.’

  Amelie waved the waitress back over.

  ‘Hello, please could we have another round of drinks, a red wine and four beers.’

  ‘Sure thing,’ she said, then smiled exclusively at Maxx. ‘Anything else?’

  The fawning was so dire, and this time Maxx did notice. He leaned across the table and took Amelie’s hand without losing eye contact with the waitress.

  ‘No thanks,’ he said, smiling. After a glass of wine Amelie felt slightly chuffed, but quickly pulled her hand away.

  ‘Jesus, don’t do that. What if I end up in the papers again?’ Amelie half laughed, looking nervously around. ‘They’ll think I’m doing the whole band.’

  Maxx winced and sat back.

  ‘So, so, so.’ Clint looked around the table. ‘I hope this topic of conversation is not out of bounds, but I have to ask. Amelie. WTF was up with Charlie? Maxx, I hope you don’t mind, but I’m not a big fan.’

  ‘It’s okay.’ Maxx shook his head diplomatically, while watching Amelie’s reaction. ‘You don’t have to like him, Clint.’

  ‘Oh god.’ Amelie waved her fist playfully at Clint. ‘It was a total nightmare. I’m just glad it’s over.’

  ‘I laughed so hard when I read the headline,’ Clint continued. ‘I was telling Julian how he was being such a creeparoony at the gig. Guy needs to get laid. My opinion!’ he said with his hands in the air.

  ‘He’s always getting laid,’ Maxx murmured.

  ‘It was the worst,’ Maisie piped up. ‘She had a photographer outside their front door – who – HER MUM ACTUALLY WENT ON A DATE WITH!’

  The table erupted with laughter, even Amelie couldn’t help a smirk.

  ‘Well, not quite, Maisie, but yes, they did swap numbers.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘But seriously, Charlie has apologised and he’s been quite nice since so I have forgiven him,’ Amelie said earnestly, not wishing to create any kind of bad feeling.

  ‘You are still in contact then?’ Maxx asked.

  ‘Well, kind of. Did he say?’ Amelie was surprised by this, and started to feel uncomfortable about where the conversation was heading.

  ‘Um, yeah. He did. To be honest …’ Maxx paused.

  ‘What? To be honest, what?’ Amelie pushed him.

  ‘I thought you kinda had a thing for him,’ Maxx said carefully.

  ‘WHAT. THE. ACTUAL?’ Maisie burst out laughing, but Amelie was unimpressed.

  ‘Did he give you that impression?’

  Maxx shrugged. ‘Oh look, I’m not entirely sure, I must have misunderstood.’

  ‘Well, let me clarify.’ Amelie felt annoyed at being implicated in some kind of thing by Charlie again. ‘He contacted me a couple of times. I have been polite. I have NO IDEA why he was messaging me. Maybe he felt bad? Either way, I couldn’t be less interested.’ Her heart began to race, and she felt her cheeks go red.

  Maxx was clearly taken aback by this news, and also Amelie’s forthrightness in delivering it – he couldn’t hide the whisper of a smile that spread across his face.

  ‘Well, I stand corrected,’ Maxx said. ‘I have to say, it’s not quite the way he told it. But it never is with him.’

  ‘Well, yes. I don’t like him like that.’ Amelie took a deep breath and a large sip of her wine. ‘Or maybe at all, if he’s been insinuating something? It’s simply not true, I can promise you.’

  ‘He’s a strange one. We’ve never really bonded, I don’t think. The rest of the band like him, Dee likes him, but I dunno, we never became close.’

  ‘Very diplomatic,’ Julian said, with one eyebrow raised comically high.

  Another round of food arrived – heritage tomato salad, sliced beef, stilton – but Amelie was no longer hungry. She watched Maxx as he sat back in his seat, looking back to her every now and then and smiling. There was an unmistakable change in him. He had quickly become more shy and withdrawn with her. She wondered how long he’d thought of her as some fangirl chasing his bandmate via Twitter and it irritated the hell out of her.

  ‘I need the bathroom,’ he said, putting his napkin down and slipping out of the booth.

  ‘I hate Paris,’ Julian said, reading out the next piece of paper. ‘Well that one’s simple.’ He looked at Amelie and smiled.

  ‘Oh my god! So does my dad!’ Amelie shrieked a little too loudly. She was beginning to feel the effects of the wine and realised she had better slow down.

  ‘That wasn’t you?’ Maisie said, disbelievingly.

  ‘No,’ Amelie laughed. ‘How weird, I wonder why?’ she said, craning her neck to see the disappointing sight of Maxx talking to that bloody waitress.

  Clint pointed at his watch. ‘Guys, we have to go!’

  ‘Oh my god, yes we do!’ Julian knocked back the last of his beer. ‘Where’s the bill?’

  He began waving the awful waitress over, just as Maxx arrived back and held out his hand to help Amelie then Maisie out of the booth.

  ‘Starts at nine? Right?’ Maxx asked.

  ‘Yep! We need to scoot,’ Amelie smiled, feeling a little unsteady on her feet.

  ‘The perfect gentleman,’ Maisie whispered as she stood next to Amelie.

  ‘How shall we split it?’

  ‘It’s taken care of guys,’ Maxx smiled. ‘And I don’t want to hear anything. You can buy me a beer at the next place.’

  He put his hand on Amelie’s lower back, and guided her towards the door. The shockwave was intense, and she squirmed free of his touch. ‘I’m ticklish,’ she muttered.

  ‘Oh really?’ he said, his beautiful eyes dancing with mischief as he touched her again, this time holding her by the arm so she couldn’t pull away.

  ‘Stop it,’ she giggled, balking at the foolish little girl she could hear in her voice. ‘Please.’

 
; ‘He’s a dreamboat,’ Amelie heard Julian sighing as they all squeezed through the thickening crowd towards the door. For a few slow steps she sank back into the heat of Maxx’s body.

  CHAPTER 24

  Big Time Sensuality

  The Lexington was packed to the rafters. There were what felt like hundreds of sweaty young music fans shoulder to shoulder at the bar, ordering their tequila shots and pints of lager in another pub so thoroughly British it could have been fake. Small wooden tables and chairs were scattered among the long leather couches under low wattage pendant lighting. It was loud as hell, and the band hadn’t even started yet.

  ‘I better just have a glass of water!’ Amelie shouted to Clint. ‘I’m not used to drinking! I feel a bit … drunk,’ she smiled, keeping her hand on the back of a chair to steady herself.

  ‘Jesus! It’s so busy!’ Maisie wasn’t totally into it, Amelie could see her friend recoiling from the smell of sweat, piss from the nearby toilets and stale beer stuck to every surface. The five of them were huddled around a table with enough chairs for three, but no room to sit in them. ‘It’s so busy and so gross!’

  ‘Don’t worry, everyone’s going to move upstairs soon!’ Julian shouted to them as Clint arrived with a tray of drinks and slid them carefully onto the sticky table.

  ‘Do you guys want to go to the very loud, very aggressive rock band upstairs? Or, there’s a pub down the road – they have their open mic night for destitutes and debutants.’

  Maisie laughed, ‘Please let’s go to the open mic! I’m so up for some bad emotional music. And a quieter room where we can talk!’

  ‘Well, don’t expect it to be any cleaner than this place,’ Clint remarked.

  ‘But Maxx – what do you want?’ Amelie tried to focus on his face, but realised she was struggling to see straight. ‘It’s your night.’

  ‘Well, while I love an open mic night, my vote’s for some dirty rock and roll.’ He grinned. ‘I didn’t have the energy the other night, but I do now!’

  ‘I’m with Maisie, I’m afraid,’ said Clint. ‘Why don’t we go get a table and see you there? It goes on until three a.m.!’