by Lesley Jones
“Her name’s Georgia, after the song, ‘Georgia on my Mind.’ Her middle name is Rae, spelt with an E, but after the great Ray Charles.”
Lisa’s green eyes slide catlike to Maca.
“And how is Georgia doing these days, Maca? Have you guys kissed and made up? Must make things awkward, dating your best friend and bandmate’s little sister?”
Bitch.
I watch Len cover his mouth with his hand and close his eyes for a few seconds as we all wait for Maca’s response.
“From what I know, Georgia’s doing great and continuing with her education back in England,” he informs her.
“So you guys never got back together? That’s such a shame, but I hear that there’s no shortage of ladies who are only too keen to be seen on your arm. Are you seeing anyone right now?”
“I don’t see what the fuck this has got to do you with you or any other fucker.” Maca snarls at her before standing up and pulling off his mic and earpiece.
Lisa and Gary scrambled to apologise, cutting to an add break. I got up and walked towards her.
“My sister is a little girl of seventeen, trying to put her life together after you cunts shredded it to pieces. Maca is still trying to come to terms with their breakup and the trouble he brought to her door. Their split has been very well documented and that was a spiteful thing to do to him on live television. I hope you’re fucking happy with yourself.” I told her, letting my voice rise with every word.
Len was standing beside me. I thought I was about to get a bollocking when he simply said,
“Not cool, Lisa. Seriously, not cool.” He turned to Billy and Tom who were still sitting on the sofa. “C’mon, we’re done here. They’re getting no more from us.” Len told them. Turning back to the two presenters, he continued, “Pack your shit up and get out of here.”
“Now wait a minute,” The shows director, or whoever the fuck he was, stepped in. “We still have another twenty minutes of the show to broadcast.”
“I don’t give a fuck. Play some music, show some ads, I don’t care. Just get the fuck outta my room,” Len shouted.
“Boys, go back to Marley’s room, now. Milo, stay here and make sure they pack up and go.” He ordered everyone before heading out the door and up the corridor towards my room.
“What the fuck is going on, Marls? Maca’s a mess.” Billy asked.
“Yeah, thanks for stating the fucking obvious, Bill.”
“Fuck you, Marls. Tell Len I’ll be in my room. I’m not going back to your room to watch Maca fall apart. I love the boy like a brother, but he seriously needs to put his hand up his arse and pull himself together.”
“Thanks for your sympathy. I’ll be sure to pass it on,” I spat out as Billy let himself into his room.
Tommy put his hand on my shoulder as I stopped outside my room to take a few breaths before I headed in.
“Sorry, Marls. You can count me out too. My Mrs. is in my room waiting for me. I don’t need to watch Len burst a blood vessel over the state of Maca. Tell him to call my room if he needs me. I’ll see you at rehearsals.” Tommy patted me on the back before he too deserted me.
“Yeah, see ya in a bit, Tom.”
I remained standing outside my room for a few more seconds. I felt helpless. My best mate was a fucked up mess and I didn’t know what to do about it. I wanted to get drunk and off my face right along with him, but I knew that what he needed was for me to look after him. Perhaps it wasn’t a bad thing that he’d finally reached his breaking point. The timing couldn’t have been worse, but maybe he was ready to allow his head and his heart to move on, and not just his dick.
I could hear shouting from inside the room and the door swung open. Jimmie stood there, tears rolling down her cheeks.
“What the fuck, Jim? What happened?”
“Your brother, that’s what fucking happened,” she sobs.
I stepped forward and wrapped her in my arms, still holding the door open with my shoulder. Len was standing, looking out the window as I looked into the room. His fingers were laced together, hands behind his head.
“Come back in here,” I said to Jim, guiding her back into the suite. “What the fuck’s going on?” My question was aimed at whoever wanted to answer me. Apart from Jimmie’s soft sobs, I was greeted with silence.
“Where’s Maca?” I asked.
Len swung around from the window.
“Ask that silly cow. She let him go storming off.” Len stated.
Jimmie pulled away from me and turned around. “He’s a grown fucking man. He doesn’t need my permission to go anywhere. How the fuck was I supposed to know to keep him here?” She shouted back at Len.
“You weren’t. Don’t talk to her like that, Len. None of this is her fault.”
Len tended to lash out at every one when he was stressed. Jimmie was usually the calm one, but she’d just gotten off a flight from London, so I didn’t think she’d be feeling too chill.
Len looked from me to her, then around the room. “I’m sorry, come here.” He stepped towards her. “I’m so sorry, babe. I shouldn’t have shouted at you like that, and I’m sorry I was late picking you up.” I stood there and watched as my brother wrapped his girl in his arms as she cried, at least until they started kissing. That was when I decided it was time to go.
“I’ll go and look for him. I doubt he’s gone far.” Again, I spoke to no one in particular.
“Don’t leave the hotel, Marls. We’ve got a car coming at three to take us to the venue. I’m not having you go on the missing list too.”
Without another word, I left them to make up.
I didn’t need to leave the hotel. I found Maca sitting on a stool at the hotel bar. He had a tumbler full of whiskey, or bourbon, in his hand.
“I’ll have a Jack and coke, please mate.” I tell the barman as I sit down next to him.
“You doing all right?” I asked.
“What d’you reckon?” Maca replied.
“To be totally honest, I’ve no fucking idea what’s going on in that head of yours these days, Mac. I thought you were getting over things. I thought you were moving on, but apparently, the only thing that’s done that is your dick. Your head and your heart seem to still be stuck firmly in Georgia territory.”
“The same, please,” he told the barman as he put my drink down.
“We’ve got a car coming to pick us up at three for rehearsals.” I felt like Lennon now, getting on his case, but fuck, if he carried on his drinking, on top of the night and the morning he’d had, he wouldn’t be fit to fart, let alone perform for an hour and a half.
He turned his brown eyes on me and I just knew he was about to give me shit, so I was shocked when he said, “If I was just to turn up now, just turn up and make her listen, what d’ya reckon she’d do? Would she listen? Does she even care what this is doing to me?”
“Mate, whatever you’re going through, she’s feeling it too, but you’ve gotta remember...” I trailed off, trying to think of how to word it. “Not only is she missing you and the rest of us, even being a part of this, but she also feels betrayed, and I’m so sorry about that. I really am sorry that this has all been caused by my stupid, selfish actions, but from what I’m hearing, she’s getting on with her life and like I keep telling you, it’s time for you to do the same.” My heart was pounding in my chest as I waited for his reaction. My stomach twisted in knots at the guilt that I felt, but I couldn’t change things. If I could’ve, I would’ve in a heartbeat.
He gave a small laugh. “Ya know, I swing from hating her, and I mean really, really hating her, to loving her so much that I can barely breathe at the thought of living the rest of my life without her.” He knocked back the contents of his glass and gestured to the barman for yet another. I say nothing. I’m his mate, not his manager. He’d get enough shit from Lennon later so he didn’t need it from me.
“I wanna walk away right now, Marls. I wanna walk away from all this and just go to your sister and make
her listen to me.” He looked me square in the face. “If I thought there was the slightest chance that she’d listen, I would be on the next plane home.”
I wanted to tell him no fucking way, he can’t. I wanted to tell him that he didn’t have a chance ... that she wouldn’t listen to him and that she sure as shit wasn’t ready to forgive him. But I didn’t. I said nothing. It was my interfering that caused it all in the first place. As much as I loved my band and the life that I was leading, I’d sacrifice it all to make the two people I loved most in the world happy again.
“Go then. If you feel that’s what you need to do, then go.”
At that moment, Jimmie appeared at the bar and moved herself to stand in between us.
“Boys, how are we?” she asked.
“Jim,” we both acknowledged her.
“Who’s gonna buy me a drink?”
Maca nodded in the barman’s direction and Jim ordered a Diet Coke. We were all silent for a few seconds before Maca asked her, “So, how’s everyone back home?”
“They’re good ... everyone’s good.”
Maca twisted his whole body around on his bar stool so that he was facing Jimmie.
“How’s Gia, Jim? How’s she doing, and no bullshitting me.”
Jim tucks her long brown hair behind her ears. “She’s doing great. She’s just finishing up for the summer at college and she’s working hard at the shop with Bernie when she’s not studying or at the gym.”
“She’s going to the gym now?” he asked.
“Yeah, she is. Though fuck knows why. There’s nothing of her,” she told him. He nodded his head, not that he knew how skinny she was those days. My sister had never been curvy, but when I saw her at Christmas, she was painfully thin.
“So the shop, it’s going well then?” I asked. My dad had bought a dress shop in the high street and my mum and sister had taken it on as a project, which seemed to have taken off.
“It is. George and your mum have set themselves up as a business and are already looking to expand. They’re selling all high-end designer labels and people can’t get enough. They’re off to Italy in a couple of weeks to a fashion show and to meet with a couple of new suppliers.”
I watched as Maca once again finished his drink in a few gulps. He looked over Jim’s head at me.
“You’re right, mate, it’s time to let go. Let’s get to rehearsals. We’ve got a show to put on later.”
Maca asked for the tab and I noticed he signed the docket, Lennon Layton, and put Len’s room number down. Len was gonna have heart failure when he found out.
CHAPTER TEN
1986
The concert that night was one of our worst and best ever. Maca was drunk, shit-faced, and highly emotional. He constantly changed the set list. As his bandmates, we knew the songs and quickly fell into stride along with whatever he decided to sing, but the sound techs and lighting blokes must’ve been majorly confused.
He broke into one of the best versions of ‘Train In Vain’ by The Clash that I’d ever heard, then an extremely sad and random cover of ‘Denis’ by Blondie, changing the words ‘Denis’ to ‘Georgie’ and ‘King’ to ‘Queen.’ He followed this with a haunting version of ‘River’ by Joni Mitchell. His song choices were erratic, he went from sad and slow into a manic version of the Buzzcocks, ‘Ever Fallen In Love,’ then slipped into a bluesy version of Dylan’s ‘Don’t Think Twice,’ which he played and sang alone with his electric acoustic. This was followed by our own ‘Seaside Heart,’ his usual raspy voiced version of ‘English Rose,’ and then ‘Georgia.’ It was possibly the best performance of his life.
He left me to say his ‘goodnight’s’ and ‘thank you’s’ as he exited the stage without a word.
Tonight, there would be no encore.
I watched as he walked straight into Jimmie’s arms and sobbed so hard he could barely stand.
She held on to him tight, stroking his hair and his back. She kissed his cheek and the top of his head, speaking words to try and comfort and soothe him while at the same time, encouraging him to let it all out.
Jimmie managed to coax and steer him out of the venue and into the back of the car that was waiting to take us back to the hotel.
I sat in silence and watched my best mate fall apart. The pain from the guilt and anguish felt as I witnessed Maca break into a million pieces was like being eaten alive, from the inside out, but so much less than I deserved.
So much less.
2014
My eyes fly open and my heart skips a few beats. I must’ve fallen asleep whilst reading. My laptop obviously got bored of waiting for me to scroll down the page and has also gone off to sleep.
I hear a giggle and realise it must’ve been the noise that woke me. Ash must be home.
The door to my office flies open and my sister falls through it. Yeah, she actually falls, or more like, collapses in a heap.
“What the fuck, George?”
She looks up at me with her blue eyes and blinks a few times.
“Big brother, Marleeeeeeey.” She grins as she calls from her position on the floor. She starts to crawl towards me on all fours.
Ashley appears behind her in the doorway, frowning as she looks at me.
“Georgia drunked.” She slurs, swaying as she tries to speak. I realise then she’s not frowning at me but trying to focus. “G, she got-she got drinked.”
My sister is now lying flat on her back, looking up at the ceiling and laughing her head off at what? I really don’t have a clue.
“No,” Ash says. “No, no, no. Not drinked, she’s not got drinked.” She shakes her head, slides down on the floor and joins G, laughing at whatever it is that’s so amusing on my office ceiling.
“How the fuck did you get in this state?” I ask them as I stand up and look over at my wife and sister who are now doing a bang on impersonation of a couple of hyenas.
On meth!
“Y-you, Marley Layton, are my favouritist big brother called Marley. The best, my very bestest one.” George points her finger up at me as she speaks.
“I’m your only big brother called Marley.”
“This true, this is vrery, vrery true,” she slurs.
I continue to watch the pair of them lying there. Ash is now curled on her side and crying with laughter. I still have no clue what she’s finding so funny though.
“Be smiley, Marls,” George says. “Don’t be a Lennon face, be a smiley Marley face.”
I hear a crash from up the hallway, just before Jimmie appears in the doorway.
“Oh great, here’s another one,” I say to anyone interested.
Jimmie is staring at me, well, at least trying to. She squints her eyes and sways as she holds something up to me. “My Louboutines, I brokeded them.”
What is it with women talking like three year olds when they get pissed up?
“Noooooooo,” Ashley screeches from the floor, attempting at the same time to sit up.
“Not the Boutines, that’s just so sad.” I give her a hand and move her to sit on the sofa I’d been sleeping on before the drunk circus arrived in town.
“Love you, Rock Star,” she whispers, making my heart do its usual little happy dance when I hear her say those words. That shit never gets old and my smile is instantaneous.
“Love you, baby.” As always, that’s my reply.
“Who said Len?” Jimmie asks. “Someone said Len, Lenny, Lennon. Where’s my baby? Is he here?”
She looks around with a smile on her face, as if Len’s hiding from her and about to jump out from behind the sofa and shout ‘ta da ... sur-fuckin-prise.’
They’ve only been invading my space for five minutes but they’re already giving me a headache. I know these three women better than I know my own dick, and I know full well that this is highly unlikely to end well.
“How the fuck do you go clothes shopping and come back in this state?” I ask again. They went to buy dresses and shoes, I’m pretty sure at no time was alcohol m
entioned.
“S’er fault.” Ash and George say together, both pointing at Jimmie who I’m guessing is the least likely to blame for this.
Jimmie opens her eyes and mouth wide and looks around the room. Whether she’s still expecting Len to appear, I’ve no clue, but I wish he would. I’d welcome any kind of backup right now.
“Was Paige,” Jimmie states, vigorously nodding her head.
“Yeah,” says George, still speaking from her prone position on my office floor.
“It was her what done it. Lunch, she said, didn’t she girls?” They all nod.
“Where’s Paige now?” I ask in the hopes that one of them is capable of giving me an answer, and praying that they didn’t leave my niece drunk and wandering around Bluewater Shopping Centre.
“S’gone,” Ash sings and they all nod in unison, then she suddenly starts to laugh. “She’s not famous...” She gasps for breath between laughing and talking. “She’s not as famous as us.” All three of them are now laughing hysterically.
Jimmie slides to the floor and takes off her other shoe and crawls over to lay beside George, whose wiping tears from under her eyes.
“My daughter’s a bigger diva than your sister,” Jimmie informs me.
“Fuck you.”
Here we go.
“No one’s a digger biva than me.” Georgia declares, much to the delight of the other two drunkards.
“You said digger biva not bigger diva.” Ash laughs and gasps at the same time.
All three of them are now cackling like witches, and as much as they’re annoying the shit outta me right now, it’s an absolute joy to watch my sister like this.
“I’m Queen Diva. Paige is only Princess Diva and anyway, I’m more fame... shit, famouser,” George declares.
“But she’s a model.” Ashley says in a stupid voice, which appears to be so funny that I worry for a moment that they’ve all stopped breathing as their amusement takes their breath away.
“Ohmagod,” Jimmie pants. “I need another drink.”
“Yessss.” The other two agree.