by Julie Archer
I scampered off to secure it, while Darren brought Saff after me. “Thanks, Darren. I owe you one.”
He shrugged. “Nothing I don’t usually do at the end of an evening out. Nice to see she’s actually going home with someone half decent tonight, though.” He held out his hand. “Good to meet you, mate. Hope to see you again.”
“You too.” I wrestled Saff into the backseat of the cab, giving the cabbie the address as Darren went back into the pub.
While he drove, I examined Saff, who was slumped against me, snoring gently. Hearing what Darren said made me worry for her. How many times had she headed off with someone totally unsuitable? How had she managed to stay out of trouble? If she had, of course. I pushed a strand of pink hair away from her face. She was totally oblivious to my touch, twitching slightly as my fingertips caressed her skin.
The sudden braking of the taxi woke her as we pulled up outside her house.
“Are we home already?” she whispered, her voice hoarse I imagined from the singing, smoking and being sick.
I thrust some money at the driver and helped Saff out. I hoped Jonas wasn’t there. It didn’t feel as if I would be making the best impression getting his half-pissed, half-stoned cousin home at after two in the morning.
Saff dropped her bag so many times it took her three attempts to find her keys. I had to keep her propped up against me as I unlocked the door and let us inside. The house was in darkness. I almost felt like a burglar. We stumbled up the stairs, and I noted Jonas’ door was open. Holding my breath, I got Saff up the next flight of steps to her room without any further incident. She fell down onto the bed, face first.
“Oh, no you don’t.” I turned her over, unzipping her boots and pulling them from her feet. The rational part of my brain told me to simply put her under the covers and leave her to sleep. But the other part won out and I carefully unbuttoned her leather jeans, and tugged them gently down her legs and off, before lifting her shirt up and tossing it on the floor with the rest of her things.
Honestly, I tried really hard not to check her out, not to examine the tattoos on her skin, not to admire her curvy body in vibrant cerise underwear.
I tried and failed.
She was exquisite. One of the most beautiful women I had ever seen.
This pretence was already killing me and we were only one day into this sham.
11
Saff
Ugh.
I felt horrific.
There were jackhammers in my head, my stomach hurt, and my throat felt like sandpaper.
Carefully, I turned over and reached for the glass of water by my bed, drinking thirstily from the pint glass.
Wait. How did that get there? I was never so organised when I came home after a night out. Particularly a night out which contained tequila slammers.
And I wasn’t dressed either. My clothes were in a pile on the floor, next to my bag. I lifted the covers to check I was still wearing underwear. I was.
Who the hell did I come home with last night?
I rubbed my temples and reached into my bag to find my phone, anything which could give me a clue as the identity of the person who took such good care of me.
As always, my phone had run out of charge, so I plugged it in and waited until it burst into life with a bunch of messages.
One from Rosie, reminding me of the photo shoot and interview tomorrow. Thank God it hadn’t been today. They’d have had one hell of a job trying to make me look anywhere near human.
One from Barney, telling me Tommo was happy to join us and asking when we wanted to set up the first rehearsal.
Ignoring the one from Jonas telling me he was staying out last night as it was clearly too late to respond, it was the final one which piqued my interest the most. It was from Darren.
Tris is a good guy, Saff. Don’t fuck this one up.
Tris!
That was who brought me home. I breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God.
Then I winced. He must have been the one who undressed me, put me to bed and made sure I had water.
Not exactly the best way to start out the fake relationship.
Tequila Tuesdays were never a good idea. When I was with the guys though, it was hard to resist. Or when I was with Rosie. Or even if I was at home on my own sometimes. It was another habit Jonas would be more than happy for me to break.
I dragged my sorry arse out of bed and pulled on a pair of jogging pants and a hoodie, before shoving my feet into my cosy slippers. As I was about to leave the room, I caught sight of my reflection and almost recoiled in horror. Pale, pasty skin; kohl streaked my cheeks; and hair which hung limply around my face. Before I went downstairs, I popped into the en suite and found some make-up remover, painstakingly removing all traces of the previous night. There wasn’t anything I could do about my hair right now; my need for food and strong, strong coffee being far more pressing. So I grabbed a ponytail band from the side and wound it up into a messy bun, securing it atop my head.
Tris and his uncle would probably still be working in the kitchen, so my choices for breakfast would be limited to whatever I could scavenge from the refrigerator. I could go out for breakfast, though it would mean getting dressed.
I heard them talking as I approached the door, something about football which didn’t mean anything to my ears. At least I wasn’t walking into some discussion about how horrific last night had been.
Jonas’ office door was open, and I could hear him tapping away on his laptop.
“Good night, last night, Saff?” he called.
Honestly, he was wasted in music management. He could work for MI5 or the CIA with his bat-like hearing.
I stuck my head in. “Yeah, we had fun. You’ll be pleased to know we’ve got a new drummer and he’s keen to work with us.”
“Good to hear. That’s step one of the rehab process.” He shot me a sarcastic smile. “Did anyone see you out with Tris?”
I chewed on a hangnail as I shrugged. I hadn’t bothered to check out any social media or notifications yet. “No idea. Rosie hasn’t said anything.” She was usually one of the first to let me know if a shit storm was about to hit. All she’d done was remind me about the shoot tomorrow.
“Okay, well, keep me posted.” He turned back to his screen. “I’ll have a coffee too.”
I had been dismissed.
Somewhat hesitantly, I went into the main kitchen. It was still chaos but appeared to have become organised chaos, instead of the mess it had been the last couple of days. I treated Tris to a shy smile.
“Morning,” I said, over brightly.
His uncle looked up at the clock. “Only just, love. Nearly midday.”
Shit, really? I wondered what time Tris had started work. I knew they’d arrived pretty early the past couple of days, but I also knew we can’t have got in until after two this morning. How much sleep would he have had? Did he drink as much as I did? What if he was feeling as crap as I was? A wave of guilt washed over me.
“Sorry about that.” I glanced around, seeing there wasn’t much space for me to make drinks or something to eat.
As if sensing what I was after, Tris spoke. “We can move some of this stuff out of the way if you’re wanting breakfast.”
“It’s okay, I can wait. Or go out. In fact, I might do that. Get out of your way.” I turned, heading towards the door.
Tris caught my arm as I was about leave. “How are you feeling this morning?”
I liked how his grip felt, bringing back some of the pleasant memories of the previous evening. Before I’d got too trashed to remember.
“Not great,” I admitted. “But I wanted to say thank you. You know, for getting me home safely and putting me to bed.”
A flush crept up his neck as he released my arm. “No problem. Anytime.”
“Hopefully not too often though.” The smile I gave him was genuine. The thought of him bringing me home made me warm inside.
“Do you always get so drunk?” A look of
concern flickered across his face.
“Nope. Sometimes I’m even worse.”
His eyes darkened.
“Joking!” I held up my hands. “It was a weird night.”
He nodded, his expression lightening. “You can say that again.”
We stood there for a couple of moments, gazing into each other’s eyes. If it weren’t for the fact we had an audience in the shape of Jonas and Col, something might have happened. I don’t know what, but I think it would have been good.
“Saff, got a minute?” Jonas’ voice broke the spell. “It’s about Friday.”
Frantically, I racked my brains, trying to remember what was happening on Friday. Coming up empty, I drew my lips together and sucked in a breath, moving away from Tris. He went back to work and I headed into my cousin’s office.
“What’s happening on Friday?” I asked.
“There’s a charity dinner for Roccia magazine.”
Silently, I breathed a sigh of relief. For once, I hadn’t actually forgotten something, this was the first time I’d heard anything about it. “And I need to know about it because…?” I already knew what was coming.
“Given we’re looking to improve your image, I’ve managed to get you tickets. Doing good things for a charity for one of the more reputable publications in the industry will give you no end of kudos.” Jonas shoved a sheet of paper at me.
I scanned it quickly. It appeared to be an annual event, with a dinner, an auction, roulette tables, and all sort of other general fun and shenanigans.
“My PA has booked you and Tris a hotel in Manchester. It’s about a ten minute cab ride to the venue, but she thinks you’ll like it.”
“Wait, what about Darren and Barney?”
Jonas shrugged. “Tickets were tight and in truth, you’re probably the better draw.”
Ouch, that stung.
“Hang on, what do you mean ‘me and Tris’?” I asked.
“Another opportunity for you two to be seen out and about in the early stages of your relationship, holding hands, the occasional kiss for the paps. You can manage that, can’t you, Saff?”
It wasn’t as if I had much of a choice. If I wanted to continue making music and being part of the label, I was kind of being held hostage. “Have you asked Tris yet?”
“I thought you could do it. I’ve already done enough in getting you guys set up.”
Suddenly, I was nervous. Coming to Manchester with me was part of the deal Tris had signed up to. I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable though and if he didn’t want to come along, then he didn’t have to.
But I couldn’t ask him while I looked like this. I needed a shower and to wash my hair.
“Okay, I’ll talk to him.”
“Good. Let me know what he says.”
I headed up towards my room, but not without a backwards glance at Tris. He was fixing one of the higher level kitchen cupboards to the wall, while his uncle held it steady. I wondered if he’d hold me when I spoke to his nephew.
12
Tris
Pretending to work, I tried to listen in on what Saff and Jonas were saying, but with Uncle Col’s power drill going every couple of minutes it was hard to hear.
After I’d put Saff to bed the previous evening, I’d gone downstairs to the guest bedroom and basically stared at the ceiling for the next few hours. I must have had about two hours’ sleep. And I was suffering for it this morning.
Uncle Col kept asking if I was hungover, which wasn’t possible as I’d only had about three pints, but I couldn’t stop yawning.
Although nothing had happened between Saff and I, it felt as though it could. I knew this was pretend, but what if it wasn’t? What if we both wanted something more from it? The lingering looks, the way she’d held my hand as we walked from the restaurant to the pub, how she sat on my lap. I had to remind myself it was all for show.
When she turned up in the kitchen, thanking me for my actions, I almost crumbled and told her what I was really thinking.
“You okay, Tris?” Uncle Col questioned for what felt like the hundredth time.
I sighed, putting down the tool I was using. “Yeah, it’s nothing.”
“Is it this thing with Saff?” His tone softened, becoming concerned. “I’m sorry, we shouldn’t have agreed to it.”
“I guess it came as a bit of a surprise.” That was the understatement of the century. I hadn’t realised rich and influential people did this sort of thing. Well, maybe I did, though I hadn’t expected to be playing such a big part in it.
My uncle placed a hand on my shoulder. “You’ve been through a lot in the past few months, lad. Your mother would be proud of the way you’re working things out. She’d be pleased for you.”
An unexpected lump formed in my throat. We didn’t often talk about my mum. I doubted she would have been proud of everything which had happened recently. But she wasn’t here now, instead my uncle and aunt were.
“Why don’t you take a break?” he suggested. He put a hand into his pocket and pulled out some cash. “Go and get a proper lunch from the cafe down the road.”
“Thanks, Uncle Col.”
When I stepped out into the hazy sunshine, I took a deep breath. It was a pleasant day and I appreciated the opportunity to get out for a while. The past couple of days, we’d simply stopped and eaten our sandwiches wherever we were standing. I wasn’t complaining, it was a job after all. But with the whole Saff situation and now staying at the house overnight, I was starting to feel a little suffocated.
The cafe on the corner was busy, lots of people sitting outside enjoying the sunshine. I pushed the door open and found the last remaining vacant table inside, putting my jacket on the chair to stake my claim.
“What can I get you, love?” The chirpy middle-aged woman standing behind the counter looked expectantly at me as I approached.
I scanned the chalkboard menu. “Are you still serving breakfast?”
“Yep, all day. One of our best sellers.” She beamed.
“Then I’ll get the works please, with some brown toast and a mug of tea.”
“No problem, you go and sit down, and I’ll bring it over when it’s ready.” She bustled off into the kitchen and I went to the table.
While I waited, I scanned the clientele: a collection of yummy mummies in twos and threes with buggies and pushchairs; a group of students; and a couple of people with laptops, who were clearly taking advantage of the free WiFi and pretending to work. Back up north, we didn’t so much do cute cafes, rather traditional greasy spoons.
The sound of the door opening caught my attention. I looked up and who should walk in, but Saff.
She was chatting to someone on her phone but stopped, stock still as she saw me.
I fluttered my fingers in lieu of a spoken greeting, watching as she scanned the cafe looking for an available seat. The only one was with me.
The waitress brought out my drink and placed the mug on the table. “Food won’t be long, love. You look like you need it.” She gave me a broad smile as she returned to the kitchen.
Saff hovered by the table, finishing up her call. When she had, she pointed at the chair opposite me. “Can I join you?”
“Sure. I’m getting some food,” I said, mentally punching myself for stating the absolute obvious.
She tilted her head. “Same. There was nothing in the fridge I wanted. Plus your uncle and Jonas were having an argument about some band when I left. It was beginning to get a bit heated.”
That sounded like Uncle Col. He had strong opinions where music was concerned, having been brought up on rock ‘n’ roll. I could only hope he didn’t piss Jonas off.
“What are you having?” Saff glanced in the direction of the menu board, then picked up the paper version on the table. “I’m hungry.”
“I’m not surprised. What’s your normal hangover cure?”
“Shitloads of carbs.” She shrugged. “Though this doesn’t feel like a normal hangover.”
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br /> “Full English?” A different woman held out a plate, her gaze swivelling between the two of us.
“Do you want it?” I offered.
“I can’t do that. It’s yours. I only just got here; I can wait.” The look on Saff’s face told me otherwise.
“Take it.” I extended my hand, to show the waitress where it should go. “And can we get another one please? Plus some black coffee? Thanks.”
The woman put the plate down in front of Saff, who immediately reached for the brown sauce on the table, squeezing a healthy amount next to her bacon.
“I’ll try and get it to you as quickly as possible.”
As she walked away, I watched Saff devour one of the slices of toast in record time. She obviously wasn’t lying about carbs being her go-to hangover food.
“Thanks, Tris, I really needed this.” As she ate, she relaxed, chewing methodically on her food.
I had to stop staring at her.
“What are your plans for today?” I asked, trying to stop us sitting there in total silence.
“I might jam for a while with Darren. He’s come up with a possible new song and wants me to hear it.”
I remembered her voice the previous evening, raw yet polished, able to cover a range I didn’t know she possessed. I already had high hopes for any new material she might come up with.
“Sounds good. Where do you do that? Do you have a studio or something?”
She laughed. “As if. No, I’ll go around to Darren’s place. He said his housemates are out so we can make as much noise as we like without disturbing anyone. What about you?”
I fixed her with a look which said did-you-really-just-ask-me-if-I’m-renovating-your-house, and she smacked her forehead.
“Sorry, that was such a dumb question!”
“A bit, yeah.”
My brunch and Saff’s coffee arrived. We fell silent as we cleared our plates, barely acknowledging each other as we ate. Despite mine turning up after hers, we ended up finishing at the same time.