by John Harding
“Address?”
“Why? I'm not going home, you're sticking me in a cell and I don't know why.” The sergeant tapped the desk and Paige sighed before responding angrily with her address.
“Date of birth?”
“Why do you need this? You are not going to send me a bloody birthday card. Now what the hell is going on?” Paige asked with a snort.
“Listen missy, the quicker we get you in, the quicker you can get out. So quit with the bloody smart-arse comments.” Paige sneered and allowed herself to be “booked in” and taken to a cell. She refused access to a solicitor as she had “done nothing wrong” and had no desire to let anyone know she had been arrested. She kicked the cell door in anger and sat down on the thin mat in the corner of the room.
Racist and sexist graffiti adorned the cell and she took to reading some of it before sitting back on her mat. She looked at the door and took off her T-shirt, shorts and underwear before putting her shoes on – the floor did not look like she could trust it to be free of sharp edges.
Paige waited, thoroughly bored; why should they have been singled out for this treatment? She had a vague idea that the festival organisers had made a complaint, but they were on private land and could have stopped their show when they were in the middle of their performance. Surely, if they were that outraged they would have done something at the time instead of waiting for hours? Surely not paying them was a greater offence than a naked band playing without any clothes?
Paige kicked the wall and sat back down on the bed, thoroughly annoyed with the state. “When are you going to let us go?” Paige shouted at the door but got no answer.
An hour later, the door was opened, and the custody Sergeant groaned. “Get your clothes on, love.”
“Why? It's my right to be naked when I want to rest.”
“And it's my right to keep you here for 36 hours if I want to, so it's up to you. Get dressed and we can let you go, or don't, and you can stay here. You got five minutes.”
Paige grunted and put her clothes back on and walked with the Sergeant to the small “booking-in” room. Jack was threading his belt back through his trousers, and Paige nodded. “What took you so long?”
“Had to get dressed,” Paige replied. She saw smiles on the faces of her friends and looked at the Sergeant.
“You are free to go,” he told her. He shrugged and passed her some forms to sign, including an inventory of her personal possessions. “You were on completely private property, and … well it's not in our interests to press charges.”
“You mean, it won't stick.” Paige snapped and crossed her arms. “So we got dragged ten miles here plus kept for like, three hours, and we haven't done anything wrong.”
“We had reasonable suspicion a crime had been committed,” the Sergeant replied with a stoic face. “And so we are duty bound to investigate.”
“And harass,” Claire added. “This has been ridiculous.”
“You haven't heard the last of this,” Paige warned, and was passed a leaflet about how to make a complaint to the Police, but she snatched her personal effects and strode angrily out of the room.
“I told my Dad,” he admitted. “And he said he would get a solicitor to phone the station and have words with them. I guess that might have frightened them a bit.”
“Really?” Claire asked. “Wow. I didn't want to spend all night there. Look at me, I'm shaking.” She yawned and they strode out into the Police car park.
“Paige. Claire. Jack. Is it true that you were arrested?” A voice asked, and they flinched when they saw camera bulbs go off. “Have you been charged? Will you be denying it? When is it in court? Is it true that …”
“Quick,” Jack cried and unlocked his car. “We better get to a hotel!”
Paige smiled at the three members of the press. “Yes, we were arrested and released,” she said with a grin. “Flaming liberties, harassing naturists like that. They want shooting!”
“Paige,” Claire called. “Stop telling the press you are hacked off and let's go!”
* * * * *
“It stops now,” Paul shouted and crossed his arms. He glared at Paige and Claire listening in as their keyboardist's father strode up and down their hotel bedroom. “Getting arrested with two tarts.”
“Oi,” Claire and Paige cried in unison. “We are not tarts,” Paige added.
Paul crossed his arms and pointed to the naked Paige. “Double bed, naked, do me a favour?”
“Why do people always believe that nudity is about sex?” Paige asked Claire, but Jack's father was not listening to her.
“Now, I have told you to come back, and you ignored me. If you do not come back, I shall torch your recording studio.”
“Why?” Paige asked him. “We are famous. Our music is popular. Why do you hate us so much?”
“Because you are cheap scum,” Paul spat back, and Claire put her hand on Paige's shoulder.
“That's not fair,” Jack shouted and jumped up from the bed. “We are enjoying ourselves, and making some music at the same time. There is nothing wrong with us at all.”
“Flaunting yourself is wrong. And it's against the law.”
“Actually …” Paige started.
“You are only free because I know some very good and very expensive lawyers,” Paul interrupted and jabbed his finger into the shoulder of his only son. “I am going home tomorrow, and you are coming home with me.”
“I don't want to,” Jack muttered.
The balding man swelled and clenched his fists. “I don't bloody care what you want. This madness has gone on long enough. You are coming home with me.”
“Can we have this discussion tomorrow?” Claire asked as she yawned. “It's midnight and talking about this at this time is madness.”
“You would do well to shut up,” he snapped. “I'll put your mother out of work if you don't let me speak to my son.”
“You what?” Claire cried, and Paige had to hold her friend's shoulder. “You can't …”
He sneered at her. “I know what you've been up to. Disgusting little girl …”
“I think we better continue this in the morning,” Jack suggested as he looked at Claire's face.
Paul glared at the two girls, and Paige crossed the room and put her arm through Jack's. “Come on. Come to bed,” she cooed and gave a grin to Paul. “We've had a long day. I really, really, really need a cuddle.”
Paul shuddered as he became lost for words, swore and told Jack that he would be back at 9am.
Jack flinched as the door slammed. “What do you do that for?” He asked, pushing Paige away from him. “He's even madder now.”
“Yeah well. He was getting on my nerves,” Paige replied instantly. “Why do you let him bully you?”
“I don't,” Jack replied. “He just thinks he knows best, and it's hard to argue.” He shrugged. “And you don't need me, do you? I mean, you are superstars now. I am not needed.”
“You are,” Paige and Claire told him together.
“Don't think you can get away from us that easily,” Paige cried. “You made me a promise. Jack, you promised me. You promised us. You can't leave us.”
He sighed and sat on the single bed. “I don't know. What would you do Claire? I know what Paige would do.”
Claire hummed while Paige objected to the generalisation and the guitarist looked at him. “I would do whatever makes you happiest,” she replied. “And I think Lucinda would say the same. And I would certainly want to finish the tour.”
He looked at Paige. “I know exactly what would make me happy, but not quite sure how to say it.”
“I'm happy to go see him and tell him to do one,” Paige said with a grin. “Or we could do a runner now and leave a note in our place.”
Jack yawned. “No. I'll face him tomorrow,” he murmured. “I at least owe him that.”
“You owe him a kick up the khyber,” Paige snapped.
* * * * *
“I am staying here,” Jack
told his father as the girls listened in from the bathroom. “Well actually we are going to a naturist site near Oxford, but I want to stay with Paige and Claire.”
Paul took a few deep breaths. “What's got into you, man? This isn't a future. So you make the odd quid as a novelty act. Where's the long-term in that?”
“It makes me happy,” he told him. “I enjoy it. And if I can't enjoy life now, when can I do it?”
“Don't be ridiculous. Now pack your things and let's get out of here.”
“I am staying,” Jack said firmly. Paul tried to grab hold of his son, but Jack shook himself free of the grip. “Leave me alone.”
“Those girls are nothing, but cheap, tacky …” Jack pushed his father to stop him and yelled.
“They are my friends,” he thundered. “They are good, nice people. And we are enjoying ourselves. And so what if it's not long-term. I'm having a great time, and we are entertaining a lot of people.”
Paul gulped. “Are you really telling me that you would give up a place on the family firm, a chance to run a multimillion pound company for a few weeks touring with a couple of sluts?”
“I guess he is,” Paige said as she opened the door. “And I think the time has come for you to sling yer 'ook.” Jack gulped, and Paige looked at him. “Isn't that right?”
“Yes,” Jack muttered as Paige squeezed his hand. “I am a musician, not a businessman.”
Paul spluttered. “This has nothing to do with you,” he told the red-haired girl. “Nothing. And you'd be wise to shut …”
“Out,” Paige interrupted loudly and pointed at the door. “Get out! You're seriously winding me up. Go!”
Paul scowled at Paige's gleeful taunting and snorted. “This isn't over,” he shouted, and then left the room, slamming the door as he departed.
Paige turned to Jack. “Well done,” the red-haired teenager told him and kissed him on the cheek. “Present. For growing a pair. Eighteen years after you should have done but well done anyway.”
“How is it, that all your compliments are always put-downs?” Jack asked her and Paige just shrugged.
“You wouldn't have her any other way,” Claire teased with a smirk. “Would you?”
“I guess not!”
* * * * *
“Who the hell are these people?” Jack whispered, and Claire shrugged.
“I don't know.”
The three musicians looked out of the hotel reception to see a small army of people waiting outside the hotel, and the receptionist looked coy. “They've been there since 6am,” she told them and shrugged. “I know who you are.”
“Us?” Jack asked. “What about us?”
“I know you are the Bare Necessities and that you were arrested last night. It was on the news.” Claire swore when she turned to see the large television screen in the hotel lobby and saw her face as they the left the Police station on the rolling news channel. “And one of the lead items on the news sites.”
“Wow!” Jack cried. “Who cares about us?” The receptionist wiped her face and then looked at Paige.
“I know it's a bit silly but can I have a picture?” She looked hopeful and when Paige gave a bemused “yes,” the receptionist passed her mobile phone to Jack and almost ran around the desk to stand next to the lead singer.
Jack took a handful of pictures and put the phone on the open page of the guest book. “So they are journos?”
“Yes,” the receptionist added excitedly. “They wanted to know what room you were in and all sorts.” The noise behind the pane of glass separating the hotel from the outside world became deafening, and Jack shrugged. “But I told them if they came into the hotel I would break their legs.” She giggled. “I'm a black belt in karate.”
Jack smiled. “Cheers. I guess we gotta go sometime,” he summarised and held his arms out. “Let's go face the bastards.” Claire and Paige took one hand each, and they walked confidently to the exit. “And Paige, no talking. You can't tease them like you teased my Dad.”
“Spoil my fun,” Paige muttered. Outside the hotel was one film crew and dozens of photographers, all of whom were spurred into action as the three musicians opened the door.
Paige flinched as light bulbs flashed in her face and Jack squeezed her hand. The pack of journalists surged towards them, and the three teenagers froze as the noisy assembly of journalists shouted questions at the band. “Wait,” Claire cried and gulped. “Please. What do you want with us?”
Jack whispered to Paige. “What do we do?”
“I dunno,” Paige muttered as the deafening array of questions started, that none of them could not hear properly.
Jack sighed. “Please!” He said authoritatively. “Please. We want to make a short statement.”
“We do?” Paige muttered and looked at Claire.
Claire gulped as the noise died down. Jack held his hand out and took a deep breath. “It is true that we were arrested last night and detained for over two hours as the Police sought to establish the legitimacy of our performance at the Stroud Festival. They had received a complaint and acted quickly and hastily to detain us, unreasonably so. We are understandably very angry about their conduct and are considering further action.” He glanced over the heads of the press and saw his father watching him from his car. “We have all long wanted to perform and make music and have found the last few weeks to be surreal. We will keep making music, and performing bare, we are doing nothing wrong and we would be grateful if other Police forces acted more reasonably.”
He looked at Paige and Claire who nodded. “Yeah,” they muttered.
“Now we are off to the Oak Valley Naturist Camp site for our next date. No more questions. Excuse me please.”
* * * * *
“Welcome, welcome,” Paige said in a cheesy voice. “It's the world's least obnoxious agent.”
Andre gulped and entered the tent. “Hiya Paige. You good?”
“Don't try and get around me with small talk,” she teased and looked at Claire. “Why is he clothed. It's a naturist park for goodness sake.”
“He's a visitor,” Claire reminded her friend.
“But a …” Paige grumbled as Claire shot her a look and Paige budged up to allow Claire to sit down with her companion.
Andre put his hand out to shake the three members of the group and Paige only shook his hand once Jack had given her a little dig in the ribs. “Now, I have been busy for you and I notice from your website schedule that after this camp site, you have over a week off until your next gig in London. Am I right?”
“Yes,” Claire replied and Andre smiled. “Assuming we don't get arrested!”
Andre laughed. “I have two things lined up. A video to be shot in Burnham Beeches. It's near Heathrow. I have a director I know, he's not busy and a film crew. It'll be cheap, but I can get it produced. He wants Don't Hate Us.”
“A video?” Paige cooed. “Doing what?”
“Well, he thinks Paige naked running through the woods and meeting up with you two in a … umm … oh … clearing, I s'pose. We would only have him for one or two days, but it'll be enough time. It'll be cheap, but MTV won't run it 'til the watershed anyway. The video and the album I can get onto iTunes and every site. Shops are proving a bit more difficult as they want to pay peanuts in royalties. But I am working on that. We can get some good photos tomorrow when you are at Burnham.”
“OK. Sounds good on that point,” Claire told him.
“Yeah, and I have a television channel lined up. Daytime chat show. Want one of you to defend your performances.”
“Right,” Jack scowled. “That better be Paige.”
“Better be you,” Paige replied. “You handled the newspaper people well good.”
Jack shrugged. “OK. Maybe. Up for discussion.”
“Well it doesn't have to happen, it's just something I got lined up, as agreed. Waiting on you, that one.”
“And the last was on the commission,” Claire reminded him. Andre sniffed.
&nb
sp; “My uncle said not to go anywhere near your figures,” he said firmly. “We have a living to make.”
“And we would have signed at eight percent if you hadn't have insulted us,” Paige reminded the agent and crossed her arms and legs. “You broke some trust.”
“But ...” Andre sighed. “If I was to say six could we do a deal.”
“How about three,” Claire suggested and Andre shook his head.