by Julie Archer
The day absolutely raced by as I worked harder than I’d ever done in my life. We pulled out cabinets and broke them down, carrying bits of wood and metal out to the van, up and down the stairs, what felt like several hundred times, before sanding the walls and then cleaning up the mess it made. At least by the time the end of the day came, we could see the wood for the trees.
It was starting to get dark when we left. I was strangely disappointed Saff hadn’t returned during the day, although if she had done I don’t know what I would have said to her. I doubt she would be interested in someone like me anyway.
Exhausted from the exertions of the day, I nodded off in the van on the way home. I wasn’t used to manual labour and I knew I would ache the following morning.
“Tris, we’re home.” Uncle Col shook me awake.
I stretched and yawned. “Sorry. I hadn’t realised how tired I was.”
He laughed. “You’ll get used to it.”
The smell of home cooking hit me the moment we walked through the front door. Aunt Annie had clearly been busy.
“Just in time. I’m about to get the pie out of the oven.” She kissed Col on the cheek and directed a smile towards me. “Come and sit down, dinner’s pretty much ready.”
We went into the kitchen and it struck me how much smaller, yet more homely it was than the one in the Barnes’ house. I’d never expected to be such a connoisseur of kitchen decor.
“How was your first day?” asked Aunt Annie, when we were seated at the table about to tuck into our food.
I finished chewing my mouthful of chicken pie. “Good. I’ve got a lot to learn, but I think I did okay?” I cast a glance in Uncle Col’s direction for confirmation.
“You did good, Tris. Keep following my instructions and you’ll be fine.” He paused, staring down at the table. “Your mother would be proud of you.”
A lump immediately formed in my throat. It had been a long, long time since anyone had said that to me. I took a deep breath and composed myself.
“Thank you, means a lot,” I managed.
Aunt Annie squeezed my arm without saying a word, her eyes glassy as well as she blinked back tears. It almost set me off too. She changed the subject, asking what we wanted for our lunch tomorrow.
After dinner, I could barely keep my eyes open and rather than fall asleep on the sofa, I headed up to my room. I lay on my bed, scrolling through social media, then on a whim decided to search Saff Barnes. There were pictures of her singing with her band, a few candid paparazzi shots of her, usually locking lips with some bloke and some more polished, modelling shots. I closed my eyes and thought of the real-life version I’d seen that morning. My hand snaked inside my jeans, as I recalled the image. My dick stiffened in response and I quickly pulled myself off hoping no-one would catch me focusing on the images. Or the fact I was jerking off at all.
When I came, my cheeks burned.
What the hell was I doing?
Saff Barnes was not what my fresh start should be about. Probably best I didn’t think about her again.
5
Saff
The insistent ringing of my phone brought me out of my slumber. I screwed up my eyes and tried to open them. As I cracked open an eyelid, I wondered where the hell I was. Sitting bolt upright, I stared at the nondescript furnishings and white walls until I realised I was in a hotel room. And there was a warm body, snoring gently beside me hidden by the covers.
I grabbed my phone and hurried into the bathroom, squinting as I switched on the light and locked the door behind me.
Jonas’ name flashed unrelentingly on the screen.
“Where the fuck are you?” he yelled.
I held the phone at a distance, putting him on speaker. “Ssssh, you’ll wake up…” My voice trailed off. I had no idea who he’d be waking up. I didn’t know who I’d gone home with last night. Or not home as the case might be.
“You might want to tell me what you were doing with Troy Carson again.”
Ah. That explained it. He must be the one in the bed. Shit.
My gaze slipped to my reflection in the mirror. I was wearing my bra and panties and, apparently, half my make-up down my face. I brought a hand to my cheek to touch the kohl and glanced around the room for some facial wipes or at least some soap. Once Jonas had finished yelling at me, I’d sort myself out.
The previous night was a bit of a blur. After meeting up with Darren and Barney, I’d gone into town and hooked up with Rosie. We’d done a bit of shopping along the King’s Road, then headed into Covent Garden to check out a couple of new bars there. Then it started to go fuzzy. There had been champagne, cocktails…shots.
And men.
One of which had been Troy Carson.
I vaguely remembered kissing him outside one of the bars, full on tongues and everything. Which I guessed a budding paparazzi had seen and snapped and put on some gossip website. At least it wasn’t in print this time.
“I, um…” What could I say to Jonas? I didn’t know if it was Troy in the bed, and if it was, what had happened last night.
“Come home, Saff.” Jonas sighed. “We’ll talk more when you get here. And don’t forget the builders are here.” He hung up and I stood there, staring at myself, the phone hanging limply in my hand.
Trying to ignore the headache coming on, banging around the back of my skull, I turned on the taps and washed my face, scrubbing away the previous evening’s grime and dirt. At least I could face Troy with fresh skin, if perhaps not a fresh outlook. I took a deep breath as I opened the door and went back into the room.
“Morning, sunshine!” a female voice called from the bed.
“Shit! Rosie!” A grin spread across my face as I clocked my best friend propped up against the pillows. “I had no idea it was you. I thought I’d come back with Troy Carson.”
Rosie rolled her eyes and sniffed. “Darling, I wouldn’t let you do that. In fact, it was one of the things we argued about. You wanted to bring him to the hotel.”
I bounced on the bed next to her, slipping under the covers. “Thank God. I’ve had Jonas on the phone.”
“I’m guessing it was about this.” Rosie turned her phone to face me and, sure enough, the shot of me kissing Troy was splashed over The Goss’ website.
“Ugh. Yes.” I groaned, pulling the sheets over my head and wishing I could hide out there for the rest of the day. “He wants me to go straight home.”
“Not without breakfast though,” said Rosie. “The condemned woman should at least have a decent meal.”
As if on cue, there was a knock on the door and a call of, “Room service.”
Seriously, I could have hugged her. Rosie always knew how to make things better.
I pulled a t-shirt over my head and answered the door. Whoever was delivering my breakfast really didn’t need to see my mis-matched underwear. The guy who stood in front of me with a tray containing two covered plates and a large cafetière of coffee seemed familiar. I racked my brain trying to think where I’d seen him before. Perhaps he’d been in a club with us last night?
“Enjoy your breakfast,” he said, the corner of his mouth quirking up.
Instantly, I recognised his Irish accent and remembered he had served us at the bar at God-only-knew-what-time-we-rocked-into-the-hotel-at. I flashed him a grateful smile, took the tray from him and span around back into the room, kicking the door shut behind me. Placing the tray on the bed, I took off the covers with a flourish, revealing one plate of full English and one of pancakes, blueberries and syrup.
“Which one’s mine?” I frowned.
Rosie shook her head. “Saff, we haven’t been friends for all this time without you knowing we always share breakfast. Plus, you know I can’t eat eggs.” She patted her stomach. “Plays havoc with my digestion.” Instead, she reached for one of the rashers of bacon, picking it up with her fingers and taking a large bite. “So what are you going to say to Jonas?”
My mood, lifted somewhat by the prospect of gr
ease and coffee, took a nosedive. I shrugged instead. “No idea. But I think I need to stay away from footballers for a while.”
After we’d demolished the two plates of breakfast, I had a quick shower, and headed home. With promises to catch up with Rosie again before our interview and photoshoot, I walked out into the street trying to get my bearings. A quick glance left and right confirmed I was on The Strand and we’d ended up at the Strand Palace Hotel. I winced. It wasn’t the first time we’d ended up there and I suspected it probably wouldn’t be the last. There was a slight chill in the air, and I pulled my denim jacket around me debating whether to get the Tube or push the boat out for a taxi. I was looking at around half an hour whichever mode I chose. At least if I got a cab, I’d have my own space. Making sure I had enough cash to cover the journey, I stepped towards the road and raised my hand to the next black cab that whooshed past.
“Callcott Street please,” I said to the driver as I got in.
“No worries, love.”
The driver eyed me in his rearview mirror as he drove off. Every so often he’d glance into it, as if he were trying to place me. It happened frequently. Either people thought they knew me from the music scene, or they recognised me from a gossip column or a social media splash. Catching sight of the tabloid balanced on the front seat which was turned to the sports pages, I guessed my driver was one of the latter. He probably supported Troy’s club. Trying to slouch down in the seat and make myself as small as possible, I pulled out my phone and aimed to distract myself. It was then I spotted the string of messages from Jonas, each getting progressively angrier. I screwed up my eyes. This conversation wasn’t going to be pleasant.
When we got to my house, I thrust some notes at the driver, more than was necessary. But if he was going to tell his mates who he’d had in the back of his cab, I’d rather he was complimentary about me.
Taking a deep breath, I put my key in the lock and turned it before pushing the door open. The cacophony of noise that met me was enough to make me turn around and head right back out again. Despite Jonas’ reminder, I’d already forgotten the builders were there and it sounded like they were knocking the walls down. I could already feel my hangover protesting against the noise.
I crept down the stairs towards the kitchen, to find Jonas’ office door closed. Just as I thought I’d got away with escaping his lecture, he opened it a little and I saw he was on the phone.
“I’m going to get changed,” I mouthed. Having any kind of conversation with Jonas dressed in the same clothes I’d worn yesterday wasn’t appealing. I told myself if I were (almost) fully clothed, it would make hearing what he had to say a little more palatable. I escaped upstairs and stripped off, picking out a pair of leggings and an oversized sweatshirt.
When I went back downstairs, I caught sight of the builders working away in the kitchen. Or more specifically, Tris. Hovering slightly out of sight, I was able to ogle him as he fitted together our new kitchen units, under the instruction of his uncle. As he stretched and moved, I could see his muscles underneath the tight t-shirt he wore. I wondered if he worked out—not that I’d ever been in a gym in my life.
“Saff, good, you’re back.” Jonas swung open the door to his office. “Why don’t you come in here? Rather than us trying to shout at each other over the noise.”
Tearing my gaze away from Tris, I obliged and perched cross-legged on the sofa opposite his desk, steeling myself for the lecture to come.
Jonas sat in his chair and wheeled it around to face me. “We need to talk about your behaviour.”
“Christ, Jonas, I’m twenty-four, not thirteen. You don’t need to tell me off because I haven’t done my homework.” I was itching to light up a cigarette, but knew Jonas hated that habit too. Was there anything I did he actually approved of?
“It’s not just me though, Saff. The record company are starting to make noises too.”
“What do you mean?”
“I said the other day they weren’t exactly happy with what was going on with TheSB. Ending up with Troy Carson again isn’t going to do you any favours.”
I struggled to keep my temper in check. This wasn’t what I’d expected at all. Jonas knew I’d been talking to Darren and Barney. Well, he knew I’d seen them yesterday. Conveniently, I’d forgotten I hadn’t actually seen him since leaving the house yesterday morning, so he had no idea what we’d agreed to do.
“I’m not saying it’s going to happen, but…” Jonas threw in a dramatic pause. “There’s talk of cutting your contract if you don’t sort yourself out.”
It felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. Was Jonas threatening to sack me? I opened and closed my mouth, but no words came out.
Jonas reached for my hands. “I have had an idea.”
“What? You’re going to fight my corner and make sure they keep me on?”
He shook his head. “Maybe you could get a boyfriend. You know, a fake one? Someone sensible who isn’t in the spotlight and could pretend for a while until you sort things out with Darren and Barney?”
“What? Like the time you ‘dated’ my friend Janine, so no-one suspected you were gay?” I pulled my hands away and used air quotes. “And for your information, Darren, Barney and I are fine. We’re going to audition a drummer and write some new stuff.” I folded my arms across my chest, increasing the number of barriers protecting me. “Besides, where would I find a nice, normal guy to play pretend with?”
There was a tentative knock on the door and Tris poked his head in. “I’m putting the kettle on, wondering if either of you fancy a coffee?”
Jonas looked at me, then at Tris, then back at me. Instantly, I knew what he was thinking.
6
Tris
Jonas Barnes was staring at me with an expression I knew only too well. It was the one that said, ‘you’ve got something I want’. It might have been chocolate or cigarettes or an extra jumper. I hated that look.
What could I have that Jonas would even want?
In comparison, Saff’s face was a mask: expressionless, blank. She stared straight through me as I stood at the door, then, without warning, leaped up and shoved past me.
“Is she okay?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder to see Saff fleeing up the stairs.
“She will be.” Jonas shrugged. “And coffee would be good. Maybe you could take Saff’s up to her? Black, two sugars?”
“Sure.”
Puzzled, I went back into the kitchen where Uncle Col was screwing one of the doors onto a unit. Some of them had been tricky, while others had gone on like a dream. It looked like he was wrestling with one of the former.
“Ah, Tris, good, you’re putting the kettle on. Definitely time for a cuppa once I’ve finished with this bastard.” He wielded the screwdriver like a weapon as he moved on to the next screw. “Everything alright in there?” He motioned his chin in the direction of Jonas’ office. “I saw Saff run out.”
“Don’t know. Think they were arguing about something.” I spooned coffee into three mugs and fished a tea bag out of the container for Uncle Col. “None of my - our - business though is it?”
Uncle Col gave a snort. “When you spend as much time as we do in people’s houses you start to pick up on things. You know, like whether there are problems in a marriage, affairs, that sort of thing. At least here we don’t have any pets to deal with. I spent the whole of one job trying to stop the puppy from humping my leg. Doesn’t make it very easy to paint a ceiling when you’re up a ladder with an over-enthusiastic Labrador trying to jump you.”
I considered what he’d said. He had a point, actually. But it didn’t explain what was going on with Saff and Jonas. They weren’t married and they didn’t have any pets. I’d heard the end of their conversation when she said something about finding a nice, normal guy. Maybe she was having trouble with her love life and Jonas was trying to help. I’d obviously seen stories on the gossip websites about her and her hook-ups. But it wasn’t really any of my bu
siness.
The kettle boiled and I sloshed the hot water into the mugs, stirred in the milk and let the tea brew to Uncle Col’s preferred strength. I picked up Jonas’ and Saff’s mugs.
“Jonas asked me to take this up to Saff, so I’ll be back in a minute,” I explained to Uncle Col.
He was already opening the biscuit barrel. “Don’t tell your aunt. She’ll kill me if she knows I’ve been eating chocolate cookies.” He really was like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
The corner of my mouth curled upwards. “Ha ha, I promise. As long as you save some for me.”
I kicked the door of Jonas’ office open with my foot, hearing him on the phone.
“Yes, I think we might have found an answer to that. Just need to convince him it’s a good idea…” Jonas’ voice trailed off as he saw me enter the room. “Thanks, Tris. Shut the door on your way out.”
I did as I was asked and headed up the stairs towards Saff’s room. Taking a breath, I tapped on the door, waiting for permission to enter. Hearing Saff’s approval, I went in.
She was sitting cross-legged on the bed, an ashtray balanced precariously on her left knee. The aroma of perfume and pot hung heavy in the air. At that moment, I wasn’t sure which one I preferred.
“Where do you want me to put this?” I hovered awkwardly in the doorway.
“Thanks. You don’t have to wait on me,” she said. “I’m perfectly capable of coming downstairs to get it myself.”
“Jonas asked me to bring it up.”
Saff let out a hard, heavy breath. “Yeah, I bet he did.”
There was a small space on her bedside table, so I crossed the room to place the mug there. “Right, I should get back to work.” Turning back towards the door, I made as if to leave.
“Tris, wait.”