by E. V. White
Table of Contents
Title
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 1
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Waiting for you
Copyright © 2020 by E.V. White
Excerpt from Waiting for you copyright © 2020 by E.V. White
Cover: E.V. White
First edition: July 2020
Printed by Amazon
All rights reserved
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s immagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portion thereof in any form whatsoever.
E.V. White:
[email protected]
To the boy who inspired this book
The club was full of people, mostly girls excited to see the show and even some guys awaiting to hear the band. The crowd was pushing and shouting under the stage but there was no one up there: there was still no sign of the musicians. People were starting to be riled and Jaden, Jordan and Matt peeked out of behind the red curtain that divided the changing room from the stage. It was a small room used as a dressing room with some chairs, an old sofa resting against one wall and a small table with its white paint almost completely scraped off leaning on the other, dominated by an exaggeratedly large mirror.
“Where the fuck is he?” Jaden cursed angrily.
“I donʼt know. He was here ten minutes ago, did you check outside?” Matt asked Jordan. “He could be smoking.”
“He isnʼt upstairs either, I checked.” He said. “Wait, do you remember that redhead who was hitting on him when we were there?” He asked.
Jaden and Matt looked at him puzzled.
“Red hair, short black skirt, white tank top...really short skirt,” he tried to explain but the two looked at him even more confused. “Over the knee thigh high boots…” he added, hoping they would remember her.
“Oh! The redhead!” Both cried out, remembering the girl he was talking about.
The three of them turned around to peek out and scan the crowd. People were all thronging around the raised stage, making it more difficult to distinguish faces beyond the front row; nevertheless, no redhead stood out in the crowd.
“Please tell me he isnʼt screwing her now,” Matt sighed, failing to catch sight of the girl.
“Letʼs hope that sheʼs at least legal,” Jordan prayed, rolling his eyes.
“I would think so. I mean, they check IDs at the entrance, right?” Jaden said.
Jordan and Matt looked at him rolling their eyes, startled at the incredulous naivety of their friend.
“What?!” He asked after seeing their faces.
“How many times have you walked into a club with a fake ID when you were underage, huh?” Matt asked in a tone that made him seem like an idiot.
“Youʼre right, man,” Jaden noted.
“Fuck!” Matt swore between clenched teeth, turning and leaving the room.
“Where are you going?” asked Jaden, never taking his eyes off him.
Matt did not answer the bass player; he just stormed out of the room.
Emily admired the lights of the Ferris wheel temporarily pitched in Leicester Square for the holiday season. She was lying on one of the square’s benches, one of those she had found hidden by the wooden houses selling sweets that offered her shelter from the cold wind tormenting London for the past few days. Every now and then, she let her eyes wander from the profile of the ride that sluggishly spun to the alley, which was actually quite crowded with people despite the low temperature. She peered over and saw the police yellow jackets. They would definitely become suspicious seeing her lying there wearing only a sweatshirt, a padded sleeveless jacket and a pair of jeans with a plastic bag bulging with odds and ends under her head.
A small boy cried as he pulled at his fatherʼs coat sleeve. The man seemed to have lost his patience because his sonʼs fit had probably lasted for some time now so Emily was not surprised when the boy screamed louder when the man picked him up in his arms and dragged him away from the rides. She smiled and followed the scene. As a result, she didnʼt notice when a woman approached her from the other side of where she was looking.
“You can’t stay here,” said a gentle but firm voice.
Emily sprang up to a seated position and fumbled for her bag.
“I’m sorry. I’m waiting for my boyfriend and got bored,” she answered the policewoman timidly.
“Why donʼt you wait for him by the Ferris wheel then? He can certainly spot you better over there,” said the woman, not at all convinced with the excuse she had just been given.
Emily stood up and dropped her gaze in shame. Clearly, her dirty and torn trousers, her hair plastered against her head and a smelly sweatshirt were not the usual attire for a date.
“Yes, sure. Youʼre right,” she cut short, scampering hoping to get lost in the crowd just a few steps from her.
Matt stormed into the bathroom hoping to find Alex. They had been friends since kindergarten but there were times when he just wanted to rip his friend’s head off with his bare hands. The anteroom was empty; he walked past the row of sinks on the left and firmly pushed the door with the big writing “boyz” in white letters on it. One of the two toilets inside the lavatory was locked and a slight groan came from behind the thin layer of wood. Matt was furious.
“Listen, prick! Get your fucking ass out here. Now!” He shouted, pounding his fist on the door a few times.
No one answered but the groans became more audible.
“Do you hear me?” Matt shouted again.
“Iʼm coming,” a hoarse voice said from the other side of the door.
“Asshole!” Cursed Matt under his breath leaving the room and returning to the others.
Alex was with the redhead he met that same evening. Her skirt had slipped over her hips, her thong on the floor. She was facing the wall with her hands pressed against it for support, legs spread apart and eyes closed. She was panting. Alex was behind her. His tight jeans had fallen to his knees and a few strands of long blond hair clung to his face covering his eyes. He screwed her with frenzy while holding her firmly by the hips. He then gave a few more firm thrusts and came inside the condom.
He leaned his head on the girlʼs shoulder for a few seconds, panting and trying to catch his breath like her. On impulse, with naturalness, she put her hand on Alexʼs head, stroking his hair. At that sudden moment of intimacy and tenderness between them, he stiffened. He walked away from her brusquely, took off the condom and threw it into the toilet, flushing. She turned around, a bit caught off guard by his unexpected coldness. She seemed to wonder what it was that she had done wrong. She tried to give him a gentle kiss on his cheek but he stopped her abruptly.
“No kissing, you know the rules,” he said with a harsh tone without looking at her, putting his boxers back on.
She blushed shyly and took a step back, clearly trying to hold back the tears that were already filling her eyes. The hurt expression on her face did not leave any room for doubt about how she felt at that moment.
Alex pulled up his
pants, opened the door and left the loo with a smirk on his face.
“See you outside, love,” he told her with a smile before leaving.
She smiled shyly back and watched him hastily leave the room. With her sheepish smile, the tears on her face disappeared. That was something only Alex could do. He could be a complete asshole and be loved at the same time. It did not matter that all he wanted from them was sex or that he was not looking for any kind of relationship, his bad boy attitude was so bewitching that women queued up for him anyway. They were mesmerized by his beauty and seduced by his nonchalance. He did not do it on purpose, nor did he have special techniques for seducing or enchanting these women. He simply acted the way that came naturally to him, without any filters or false morality. Women wanted to be the one to convert this rebel, to be the one able to fix his shattered heart; but none of them realised that jumping in his bed was not the way to win over his heart.
“Where have you been?” Jaden asked Alex as he entered the backstage room.
Alex put on his trademark arrogant smile and looked at Matt but, as soon as his eyes met his friendʼs harsh look, he stopped smiling. He did not answer the question; instead, he grabbed a glass of scotch from the table next to them and drank it in one gulp.
“Hey! That was mine,” Jordan reproached him snatching the glass from his hands and placing it back on the table.
““Oops…” Alex grinned cockily.
“Oops?! Are you kidding me? Youʼre twenty minutes late, you drink my scotch and the only thing you can say is ʼoopsʼ!” He charged in disbelief.
“What would you like to know? Perhaps her name or some dirty details?” Alex muttered with a grin.
The three boys looked at him completely dazed. Alex took his acoustic guitar, moved the red curtain without a word and climbed on stage, driving the crowd crazy.
“Is he serious? The acoustic part doesn’t come in until the middle of the show,” Jordan said incredulously.
“Is he already drunk?” He added.
Matt glanced at the stage and sighed seeing all those girls in complete adoration of his friendʼs big blue eyes and cocky smile.
“As always,” he whispered dispiritedly, more to himself than to Jordan.
Alex was great on stage. His long blond hair partially covered those blue eyes of his. High cheekbones, a perfect jaw and a pierced straight nose decorated by a thin ring were all part of his angelic features. His lean, almost wiry figure made him suitable for a modelling career, which he had done a couple of times when he had no money left, although he never particularly enjoyed it. Tattoos covered most of the skin on his chest, arms, hands and legs. He had the face of an angel but that mischievous sparkle in his eyes said otherwise, a combination that literally drove girls mad.
He jumped on stage without saying a word, simply meeting the gaze of a couple of people in the front row and adjusting his guitar. With a slow and strategic move, he freed a few strands of hair from his face, closed his eyes and began to play “Hurt” by Nine Inch Nails, singing with his deep and mellow voice. It was incredible how the crowd forgot that the show had started forty minutes late and began singing along with him. The magic only Alex could create had begun so everything slid back into place without anyone having to move a finger.
Matt, Jaden and Jordan joined him on stage, following his lead and finally relaxing. They were still angry with him but because he was doing such an amazing job with the show, everything else had been rendered insignificant by comparison. Regardless of the fact that Alexʼs private life was in disarray, he was a perfectionist at work. He would not go on stage if he were unable to perform at his best. Becoming a rock star was his dream. Every single moment of his life was dedicated to it and this was the reason his friends and companions who have joined him in this adventure could not stay angry with him for so long: he was really good at what he did and they were sure that everything would be all right because of him.
Emily had distanced herself only a few meters away from the bustle of Leicester Square to move on to the little less stuffy and more subdued Charing Cross Road. Near the tube station, a business closed for some time with a boarded up shop window offered some shelter. Heaps of boxes and filth made the air unbreathable, but at least she could sit in a place where she certainly would not freeze.
She made her way through the cardboard pieces looking for a small amount of surface where she could prop herself on. The smell of urine and rubbish was nauseating. She made a huge effort to find the strength to sit on the floor and curl up in a corner where it seemed to be less filthy. She observed people pass by and not take the slightest notice of her. How people were able to walk along whole stretches of road without looking up from their cell phones and still manage to avoid people coming towards them intrigued her.
Her moment of absolute invisibility did not last long though. A homeless man, who was struggling to stand up straight, entered through the small portico throwing five or six soiled blankets impregnated with the stale smell of urine and sweat to the ground. She had the impulse to vomit but she did not dare move from where she was, mainly for two reasons: firstly, the figure occupied most of the space she needed to get out and secondly, she was completely terrified.
When the man became aware of her presence, he began shouting nonsense that pretty much sounded like that precise spot was his and that she had to leave it immediately. Then, when he started to threaten her with his outstretched arms and to stagger towards her, Emily was finally able to put aside for a moment her fear, jumped up and slipped between the homeless man and the shop window, managing to avoid him. She catapulted herself into the road colliding into a couple of people who pushed her away annoyed. After regaining her balance, she broke into a run without even looking back.
*
The show was perfect. The crowd sang, jumped and sweated along with the four lads on stage. At that moment, Jordan and Jaden were unwinding on one of the club’s sofas chatting with a couple of fans. Matt was talking to a tall man dressed in a suit and tie and Alex was drinking his third scotch sitting at the bar.
Matt walked over to Alex and introduced him to the man with whom he was holding a conversation a few seconds before.
“Alex, this is Christopher Richards, the talent agent I told you about,” he said in a very serious tone.
Alex turned around to look at the smiling man who was striking a pose that made him seem like a wax figure, artfully constructed to render him pleasing and likeable. He scrutinized him from head to toe a few times then smiled inquisitively.
“I saw you tonight and you were excellent,” said the man with the smile still imprinted on his face and a juvenile demeanour that did not suit his fifty-year old appearance at all.
“I know,” returned Alex drinking from his glass.
Matt looked daggers at him, trying to prevent his friend from doing or saying something stupid, knowing exactly what would happen after catching the words the agent pronounced next.
“Yes, there are some good material for an EP. Obviously, you will have to change a couple of the songs that don’t work, but there are some pretty great lyrics,” Christopher disclosed enthusiastically.
Matt already knew that those were the only words that could infuriate Alex. Every single lyric, every single word of those songs were something that came from the depths of his heart and no one could make him change them, not even the other members of the band who never ever even thought of asking him to do it. Those songs were perfect as they were, with all the rage and sorrow that made them truly unique. Nevertheless, Matt was thinking of their career. If Christopher had asked him to jump off a bridge, he would do it without blinking. Alex was rich enough to own his own flat but Jaden, Jordan and he had to struggle every month in order to pay the rent, all the bills and everything else. He had a job that he liked but did not plan to continue doing it through his old age. The same held true for Jaden and Jordan. They all wanted to live off making music in the same way as Alex and, at twenty-six, the
y finally had the chance of a lifetime and did not want to throw it away. This was the reason he fought so hard to prevent the inevitable fact that Alex would mess up everything; he was not sure that he was able to find another opportunity if Alex blew it for them this time.
“So, Christopher, you come here with your beautifully ironed shirt and that perfect tie of yours to tell me how to do my job?” Alex began. “Have you ever listened to rock music or are you just flapping your gums? We’re not a boy band, got that? We don’t do what other people expect us to do. We decide what to play and what not to play,” he continued.
“Alex,” Matt cut him off with a stern voice.
“Iʼm just here to help, not to turn you into a boy band. I like your music, I told you. I just want to make sure that you include the right things in order to sell with no problem. Nothing more. A couple of new songs. Thatʼs all I ask. A couple of songs that you would write yourself,” Christopher clarified with some discomfort in his voice and that fixed smile still planted on his face.
“Listen,” Alex started, getting up from the stool on which he was sitting until that moment.
“Shut your mouth, Alex.” Matt ordered firmly. “Go out and catch your breath, okay?” He ordered with a severity that did not leave room for any dispute.
Alex looked at his friend with a mixture of anger and defiance in his eyes but kept his mouth shut and stormed out of the club as his friend’s fierce gaze followed him until Matt finally returned his focus on Christopher to save the situation.
Alex was outside of the club, having a smoke with his back against the wall of one of the houses nearby. He was observing a group of boys drinking their beer and chatting outside the club. They were all dressed in their leather jackets and ripped jeans, their hair carefully tousled. All things typically associated with rock but, in fact, were not. They were wearing at least a thousand pounds worth of clothes that had nothing to do with real rock. In the eyes of Alex they were the same people you could find in any club, from dance to pop, the very same people Alex despised, not because they were bad but because they did not truly appreciate his music. They were there only because, at present, they were the coolest band in London; in truth, they did not feel the torment of the words in his songs. Alex had said that they could sing “Hurt” by Nine Inch Nails – or as they thought by Johnny Cash – in the same way as they would sing “Baa Baa Black Sheep” with no difference.