by Julie Archer
“We have the right outfit then,” said Rosie, a satisfied smile on her face. “Who said I can’t cut it as a stylist?”
28
Tris
Fuck, Saff was hot.
Like molten lava hot.
If I hadn’t have left the room when I did, God knows what would have happened. I would have shoved Rosie out of the way and gone for it. My dick swelled painfully against my fly. Seriously, I wondered if Saff had any idea of how much she turned me on.
Now I had to go back to work with my uncle with an erection I couldn’t do anything about.
She was a fucking liability.
The protective instinct in me kicked in big time when we arrived at The Windmill later that evening.
Saff had worn the outfit Rosie had picked for her and layered a long dress coat over the top, to at least keep some semblance of decency. Her hair was teased into a tousled, bedhead style, and her makeup was something else. Dark, dark, eyes with black kohl outlining them, and a glossy burgundy lip gloss. She looking absolutely stunning and all male eyes—and maybe a few female eyes too—in the room were on her.
Darren, Barney and Tommo were setting up the equipment with the help of a couple of the guys who were part of the venue’s production crew.
We stood at the bar, waiting for Jonas to arrive.
A couple of lads, already worse for wear, came up to us.
“Wow, this band’s got seriously hot groupies,” one of them slurred, breathing beer fumes all over Saff.
“Which one of them are you shagging?” the second asked, jerking his thumb in the direction of the others.
“Do you even know anything about who’s playing tonight?” I chipped in. “She’s not with the band, she is the band.”
The two guys stared her up and down. “Yeah, right.”
The taller of the pair moved closer, pulling aside Saff’s dress coat, whistling between his teeth as he leered at her breasts. “Does this come off? Those tits are something else.”
I stepped in between them, covering Saff with my body. “I think it’s time you disappeared.”
He eyed me with disdain. “Who the fuck are you? Her bodyguard?”
“Even worse for you,” said Saff, her head appearing from behind me. “He’s my boyfriend. And he doesn’t take kindly to pricks like you trying it on.”
The man laughed. “Seriously? This meathead’s your bloke?”
“He’s not a meathead.”
She was trying to defend me, when I already had it covered. I knew how to look after myself - to look after both of us.
“Time to move on, guys,” I said, crossing my arms. “Save it for someone who likes the thick, bulldog approach.”
“Oi!” He swung a fist at me, but I easily blocked his wrist. The extra beers he had on me were working in my favour.
“Everything okay here?” Jonas appeared next to us, all suited and booted in complete contrast to everyone around him.
“Some man with a tiny penis bothering me.” Saff glared at the men. “I think they’re going to try to chat up someone else now, as I’ve given them the brush-off.”
The two men muttered to each other, and I thought I heard one of them say something about seeing me outside later. I rolled my eyes and let it wash over me as they finally wandered off.
“Good. Because I’ve got Joel from Roccia waiting to talk to you.”
“Now?” Saff frowned.
“Yes, now. Because afterwards you’ll be too drunk to string a decent sentence together and I want a coherent piece.” Jonas pulled her away. “He’s waiting in the back room.”
Saff grabbed my arm. “I want Tris to be there too.”
Jonas shrugged. “Whatever you want.”
The three of us headed out back to a tiny room, nothing more than a glorified stock cupboard, which appeared to double as a dressing room. I vaguely recognised Joel from the charity dinner and nodded in his direction as we entered.
“Thanks, Saff. I know how busy you are and how nervous you must be for this comeback gig.” Joel extended his hand and Saff shook it. There was no air kiss or over-the-top affection. It was all business.
“I am a bit nervous, yeah. It’s been a while since we performed in front of an audience as big as this.” Saff perched on the edge of the one table in the room, stacked high with boxes of cleaning products. She reached into her bag and pulled out a joint. Joel reached over to light it for her.
“Should you be doing that before you sing?” I asked.
“She shouldn’t, but Saff does what she wants,” Jonas answered for her.
Saff raised her eyebrows at her cousin’s comment as she took a drag of the cigarette, the sweet, musky aroma filling the small room.
“TheSB’s comeback was something of a surprise to us,” began Joel. “What made you start making music again?”
“The threat of losing our recording contract,” Saff drawled, her gaze fixed on Jonas. “Nothing like the thought of having something taken away from you to get your arse in gear.”
Jonas laughed anxiously. “She’s joking, obviously.”
Joel looked between the pair and I wondered if this was usual behaviour between them.
She sucked on the joint again. “We had the opportunity for Tommo to join the band and thought it would be stupid to pass him up, so we started working together again.”
The relief in Jonas’ body was palpable. This was obviously the line he wanted Saff to give, not the one about the recording contract.
“And how many new songs have you got for us tonight?”
“There are four. We’re hoping they’ll be the basis of the EP Numb will release. There may be a couple more, but that’s all we’ve got. Like I said, we’ve been working our arses off to get ready for tonight to make sure we had some new material for you.” She looked directly at me. “I think you’re gonna like what we have.”
“What are they about? Can you give me an insight into how they came to you so quickly?” Joel asked.
“Let’s say I had some inspiration.” Saff’s gaze didn’t leave my face. “Now are you ready to hear this stuff, or what?” She dropped the butt of the joint to the floor and ground it out with one of her spike heels, before leaving the room, her dress coat billowing out behind her.
It was a relatively short, punchy set just shy of forty-five minutes long.
For those forty-five minutes, I was totally spellbound.
The Saff who prowled around the stage was like nothing I’d seen.
She was self-assured, powerful and all kinds of sexy. She used her mic like a weapon, growling into it, before her voice went soaring into another range. Even though I’d seen her perform at the pub a few weeks ago, this was a whole different level of execution. The way she poured all her energy into slinking around the other members of the band, dropping into a squat to emphasise certain parts of the song, rising up again, her body taut and stretched to its limit.
I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
I couldn’t wait to take her home and fuck her.
“This is our second to last song tonight,” Saff announced, her voice cracking slightly, its husky undertones already turning me on. She spun around to look directly at me. “And I had some pretty strong inspiration for it.”
It was easily their softest song of the night, almost a ballad. I hung on every word Saff sang, listening to the lyrics. It was as if the rest of the audience disappeared and it was only her and I in the room.
Saviour. Surprise. Salvation.
Shit, she had written a song for me.
She’d alluded to it in the chat with Joel. I had never been anyone’s inspiration before. And yet, here was a gorgeous, sexy woman harmonising about me.
If I’d been able to go up on that stage and drag her off with me, I would have done it in an instant.
As the music drew to a close, she blew a kiss in my direction before whirling around to the sounds of their best known song to finish the set.
My heart w
as in my mouth. I needed to take a breath. The crowd around me sang loudly and danced and waved as the finale hit its crescendo, jostling me from side to side.
Saff took a final bow. She thanked everyone for coming along and promising there would be more live shows soon to the sounds of loud cheers, then left the stage.
I elbowed my way out the back to the room we’d talked to Joel in.
The band were there, slapping each other on the back and congratulating each other on a job well done. I hung back, letting them do their thing, until Saff spotted me.
“Tris! Over here!” She stood in front of me, slick with sweat from the efforts she’d put into her performance. “I need some air, come outside with me?”
Right then, I’d have followed her wherever she wanted to go.
When we got outside, there were a few people milling about in front of the venue, mostly waiting for taxis or pickups. Some of them called out to Saff to say how much they’d enjoyed the gig. She thanked them as she lit a cigarette, smiling happily.
I was immensely proud of her.
She had worked so hard to make it happen in such a short space of time.
“You’re incredible,” I breathed, moving in towards her.
Saff struck a pose and rolled her eyes. “Obviously, darling.” She gestured to herself with her cigarette. “With me as a front woman, did you expect anything less?”
“Never.”
I closed the space between us, leaning down for a kiss, breathing in the mixture of her scents, perfume, smoke and the exertion she had put in.
“I always knew you were pretty amazing, but tonight was something else.” Holding her face in my hands, I looked into her chocolate brown eyes. “You, me, us, everything about this is real.” The lines between real and fake had blurred a long time ago and right now, all I felt for Saff was a surge of emotion. “Saff, I love you.”
She wound her hand into my hair, burying her face into the crook of my neck. “And I love you too,” she whispered breathily. “I don’t care who knows about how we came to be together, I want to tell everyone, Rosie, Darren, the gossips…”
The declaration made me sag against the wall and if it hadn’t had been there, I might have fallen to the floor.
Saff’s lips found mine and we came together, tongues entwining, hands everywhere. The rest of the world failed to exist as we kissed, fiercely, passionately, intensely.
Eventually, we broke apart, staring at each other, breathing heavily. Saff took a step backwards and shivered a little in her tiny shorts and t-shirt.
“I’ll warm you up, darlin’.”
It was the lads from earlier, clearly even more drunk than before.
“No need, boys, I’ve got someone to do that for me.” Saff stepped closer to me, wrapping her arms around her body.
“Him? You need a real man, sweetheart.” One of them reached out and ran his hand along the exposed skin of Saff’s waist.
“Don’t touch me!” she hissed.
“Come on, all the writhing and touching yourself up on stage, you need something to get you off.” His hand slid around to her arse, cupping her buttock and giving it a good squeeze.
“She asked you not to touch her.” I tried to keep my temper in check as I pushed him away, but it was hard.
The guy completely ignored my request and continued to manhandle Saff, who was trying to wriggle out of his grasp.
Unable to contain myself, I flew towards him, dragged him back and prepared to launch a punch in his face.
“I’d be careful if I were you, Tris. That’s what got you into trouble the last time.” A voice I hadn’t heard in a long while floated across the air. “You don’t want to end up back in prison, do you?”
Immediately, I went limp, releasing my grip on the man who scurried away with his friend. My hands dropped by my sides as I wondered how he knew where to find me.
I turned in the direction of the voice and confirmed my thoughts.
“Dad.” My own words came out laced with contempt. “What in hell’s name are you doing here?”
29
Saff
Dad?
I spun around to face the person claiming to be Tris’ father. His features were similar, if more weathered. But Tris had never mentioned him. The only family he’d ever spoken about was his uncle and aunt and how he’d lost his mum. I also didn’t understand why he was talking to Tris about being in prison.
Jonas appeared beside me, putting my coat around my shoulders. “Shall we go inside?”
The four of us traipsed back into The Windmill, which was by now thankfully almost empty. Darren, Barney and Tommo were packing their equipment away, ready to head off as soon as they’d finished.
I could still feel the imprint of the man’s hands on my skin and desperately needed a drink to calm myself. The barman granted my request for a large whiskey and I took several quick sips to help dull the senses.
Tris and his dad stood a little way away from us, seemingly engaged in a highly animated conversation. Tris poked a finger into his father’s chest and I strained to hear what they were saying.
“Who is that?” I asked Jonas.
“I heard the same as you did. It appears to be Tris’ father and from their discussion, I’m thinking they aren’t exactly getting on well.”
We watched as they continued to talk, getting increasingly more agitated with each other. Tris’ dad turned and looked straight at me, pausing for a second before walking towards us.
“So this is Saffron, your girlfriend. Why don’t you introduce us, Tris?”
His gazed raked down my body and instinctively I pulled my coat closer around me, his penetrative stare almost as violating as the other guy who touched me up.
No-one ever called me Saffron. No matter who they were.
Tris grabbed his dad’s arm. “Leave it. Now’s not the time.”
“Very pretty she is too; and loaded by all accounts.” He held out his hand. “Louis Johnson. I’m Tris’ dad,” he confirmed.
I looked at his hand, seeing the dirt under his nails. It wasn’t the same as the paint or dust Tris had on his hands, the dirt that came from hard work and graft. This was muck and grime, probably from a less than salubrious lifestyle and my skin crawled. I didn’t want him anywhere near me.
Jonas intervened. “Hello, Louis. As your son asked, what are you doing here?” His tone was even, although I could tell he was as confused as the rest of us.
Louis looked between Tris and me. “I’m checking in on my boy after his jail stretch. I knew his uncle had been looking after him, but it wasn’t until my missus spotted his ugly mug on one of those gossip websites with the lovely Saffron here, I realised exactly how well he was doing.”
It was the second time he’d mentioned prison. What the hell was he talking about? I nudged Jonas and tried to convey what I wanted him to ask, but he was already one step ahead of me.
“Tris, is there something you should have told us?” Jonas’ gaze bored into Tris and my boyfriend practically withered in front of him.
Intuition told me everything I thought I knew about Tris was wrong.
Lies.
He lied to me.
Had anything he’d ever said been the truth? Was his mother even dead? Did he make it up simply to get close to me?
What if everything he’d ever told me was fake?
Fake.
Exactly like our relationship should have been. I should have left it as a business arrangement. I shouldn’t have got more involved. Jonas may not have liked how I lived my love life before Tris, but I sure as hell never got hurt like this back then.
“We’re heading off now, Saff. Do you need anything?” Darren came up with Barney and Tommo, the three of them totally oblivious to the fact my relationship was falling apart in front of me.
Impulsively, I pulled him into a bear hug. We weren’t normally a touchy-feely kind of band, but I needed his support. He hesitated for a moment before hugging me back.
> “You want us to stay?” he whispered. “What’s going on?”
“No, I’ll be fine. Jonas is here. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” I knew once I released him, I would have to confront Tris. “We can agree the dates for laying down the new tracks properly.”
He nodded. “Okay, if you’re sure?”
I was anything but. “Go. Be safe on the way home.”
Darren laughed. “You two, see you later, Tris.”
Tris barely responded.
Once they had gone, only me, Tris, Jonas and Louis remained, along with the skeleton staff who were clearing up the venue. It wouldn’t be long before we would be kicked out and I didn’t want to continue the discussion in the street.
For the second time, Jonas took charge. “Louis, you mentioned something about Tris being in prison? He’s never mentioned it, so perhaps you could tell us why?”
A malevolent smile crept across Louis’ face. “Really? Didn’t tell his new, rich friends he was inside for GBH? Didn’t tell you he beat the crap out of some guy and got sent down for it? What a surprise.” He placed heavy emphasis on the word rich and appeared to take great delight in tearing his son down.
At Louis’ words, Tris’ head dropped, and he stared at the floor, unable to meet my eyes. I wanted him to deny it, to tell me it was all a lie and his father was making it up.
But the lie was on him for not telling me, us, the truth.
I felt sick, thinking back to the scene outside earlier. Would he have done the same to the guy who tried it on with me? Punched him until he was bleeding or worse? If his father hadn’t appeared when he did, would history have repeated itself?
Jonas exhaled hard. “When we discussed the contract with your uncle, there was something in there about disclosing any criminal records. If what Louis says is true, then I’m afraid that nullifies the deal.”
Tris’ face was pale when he glanced up.