by Julie Archer
“Can’t wait to be on stage with you later,” he declared, giving me a big kiss on my cheek. “Gonna go and get some rest before the gig.”
For some reason, his actions made me edgy. I wished we had time to chill out, but we were on at seven sharp and there wasn’t any opportunity to go back to the hotel.
Darren and I had ended up going around the corner from the venue to get something for dinner instead.
Even before the gig started the backstage was hot and sweaty. The two bands were crammed into a small room, doubling as a dressing room. There was equipment everywhere and I clambered over guitar cases and drum containers to get to the only mirror in the place. It seemed pretty obvious they didn’t have many female bands in.
“You’re looking hot.”
I clocked Scott’s reflection as he came up behind me. “Didn’t think you’d be here until later,” I said, as I carried on lining my eyes with black kohl.
He stopped inches away from me. “Thanks for making the effort. I appreciate it.”
My hand froze. Did he seriously think I dressed for his benefit? Of all the arrogant pricks… “When I packed my tour wardrobe, I had no idea I’d be singing with you. None of this.” I gestured to my outfit; tight leather trousers and a slashed black and cerise t-shirt, the pink of which almost matched my hair. “Is for you.” I wanted to wipe the smirk off his face.
“Such a shame.” He quirked an eyebrow.
Had it been a few months ago, I would probably have played up to him. Might even have ended up in bed with him. Tris had changed all that. I no longer felt the need to garner attention from other men—look how my flirtation with Carl had turned out. The thought stopped me in my tracks. Why was I thinking of him at a time like this? He had, at least, been quiet ever since the launch party. Maybe he’d decided not to bother me anymore. I hoped that were true.
“Fifteen minutes to show!” The venue manager shouted into the room, his voice only just audible over the music Darren and Barney liked to play before a gig to get them in the right mood. The same music was also being piped out into the main room.
“Break a leg. I’ll see you on stage.” Scott slapped me on the arse, but before I could protest, he shot across the other side of the room to talk to his guitarist.
I was fuming. It was no wonder Rosie had dumped him. The ego on the man was beyond belief.
The first set was incredible. Apart from the comeback gig and the few songs we’d performed at the launch party, it had been a long time since we’d played live. A properly plugged in and turn-it-up-to-eleven kind of performance. Adrenaline buzzed around my bloodstream, giving me the ultimate legal high. While the crowd wasn’t massive by any means, there were enough people who enjoyed it and made it worth us being there. It wasn’t all about Trash Gun, despite what Scott thought.
When we came off stage, I immediately wanted to do it all over again. Nothing could beat the feeling. Well, except maybe being with Tris.
I collapsed into one of the chairs, fanning myself to try and cool off. Maybe I’d need to rethink my gig clothes, they were sticking uncomfortably to my skin.
“Decent show out there, babe.” Scott approached me, dressed in his stage gear of skinny jeans and a tight t-shirt which emphasised his wiry frame. “It seems they like you.”
Even he couldn’t bring me down and I wasn’t going to let him. “They needed warming up before you came on. I didn’t want to let them down.”
“Oh, you’re never a let-down.” He stepped toward me and traced a finger down my arm, causing me to jerk back. “Make sure you’re ready for our song.” And then he was gone.
I stared after him. He knew I was with Tris, so where did he get off flirting with me like that?
Darren watched our exchange from a distance before coming over. “You want me to stick around until after you’ve done your bit?”
“No, it’s fine. You head off with the guys and I’ll see you later.”
“Have you spoken to Tris yet?”
“Are you checking up on me?”
He shook his head. “Scott’s showing more than a professional interest in you and I don’t want Tris to get hurt. Again,” he added after a little thought.
It was sweet the way he was worrying, but there was no need. I had absolutely no attraction to Scott Lincoln, no matter what he thought. There would be no repeat of the Troy Carson incident.
“It’s fine. I know how to handle him.”
“If you’re sure?”
“Seriously, go. I’ll see you later.”
With Darren, Barney and Tommo gone and Trash Gun onstage, it was blissfully quiet and peaceful. From backstage, I could just about hear the band. Scott had informed me a guitar tech would come and collect me when it was time for me to go back on.
Knowing I had a few minutes, it seemed like a good time to call Tris. I found my phone in my bag and switched it on. When the screen sprang to life, there were messages from Jonas, Rosie and Tris.
Jonas wished us luck for the start of the tour.
Rosie told me to kick Scott in the balls for her.
Tris said he’d call me tomorrow.
I frowned at the last one. He’d been insistent we speak each night, so this message came as a surprise. I wanted to tell him how good the night had been, how much I loved performing and how much I missed him. It seemed it wouldn’t be today. Unsure of how to respond, I replied to Jonas and Rosie instead, then took a selfie and posted it on social media with a few strategic hashtags. It wouldn’t hurt to get TheSB a little more publicity during the next week.
“Saff? You ready?” The guitar tech poked his head into the room, the noise from the stage suddenly getting louder.
I stood up and shook my limbs out, rolling my head from side to side.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
10
Tris
“I can’t believe you’re dating Saff Barnes.” Andy shook his head and sipped his pint. “Were you seeing her when you were working with us?”
It was Thursday night. Saff was playing in Cardiff and I’d contacted a couple of the guys I used to work with at the DIY store to see if they were up for a few drinks. I was going stir crazy in the house and if I had to watch another one of Aunt Annie’s quiz shows, I might have to throw something at the television. Andy and Jason had readily agreed. Their girlfriends were on a hen weekend, so they were at a loose end. We met in The Mason’s Arms, a local pub near Uncle Col and Aunt Annie’s house which had a pool table and decent music.
I wrinkled my nose. “Not back then. It’s um, complicated.” They didn’t need to know about Saff pushing me away after finding out about my jail spell. In fact, they didn’t need to know I’d been in prison. And they certainly didn’t need to know about the fake relationship agreement. “We were together before but weren’t seeing each other then.”
“But you’re definitely seeing her now?” asked Jason. His eyes practically bugged out of his head when I’d mentioned who my girlfriend was. Apparently, he was a big fan.
His question caught me by surprise. Of course I was seeing her now. “Yeah, I am.”
“Really? Because Hannah retweeted some picture from The Goss of her and Scott Lincoln from Trash Gun. They looked pretty cosy.”
The thought Saff was returning to her old ways hit me like a punch in the gut. After everything we’d been through, we were closer than ever. Or so I’d thought.
He showed me his phone with the retweet from his girlfriend. The photo looked to be from one of Trash Gun’s social media accounts. Scott and Saff were caught in an embrace on stage and she was looking up at him. The expression on her face appeared to be one of adoration. There was a caption about how well the tour was going and how much they enjoyed working with TheSB, nothing specific to the couple.
“Nothing to bother about. Looks like something they were asked to do by the record company.” I gulped down some beer to quell the uneasy sensation in my stomach. “Jonas said they were looking to get as
much publicity from this tour as they could.”
The two guys nodded, as if only half-believing what I was saying. In truth, I had no idea if it was something the bands had to do. I knew visibility was important and assuming the lead singers of the bands were an item would definitely garner attention. But I thought Saff would have warned me if that were the case, so I’d be prepared for it. She hadn’t. Did it mean there was an attraction between them? I didn’t want to think about it.
“You guys want a game?” I passed Jason’s phone back to him and gestured towards the pool table which had become free. “Winner stays on?”
“Twenty quid says I beat both of you.” Andy puffed up his chest, ever confident he would be the one to win.
“Twenty says you don’t,” I countered.
“You’re on.” We shook hands on the bet and headed over to the table.
While Andy and Jason racked up the balls for the first frame, I went to the bar to get more drinks. As I waited to be served, I checked my phone. There had been no communication from Saff at all today. We’d talked when she’d arrived in Cardiff yesterday, but nothing since. Was there more to the photograph? Was Scott Lincoln another Troy Carson?
Uncertainty gripped at my heart. I shouldn’t let it get to me. But what was it Saff had said?
What happens on tour stays on tour.
Half an hour later, I was about to pot the black ball in order to claim my twenty quid from Andy. Jason thrashed him and if we’d been playing forfeits, Andy would have had to walk around the pub in his boxers. Thankfully, we decided not to go down that route. The punters in The Mason’s Arms didn’t need to see his skanky pants.
As I drew back the cue, my phone vibrated in my jeans, enough to put me off, and I skewed the ball just wide of the pocket.
“Fuck!”
Andy laughed. “Thank God. I thought I was going to have to admit to being a loser.” He leaned over and easily potted the remaining ball. “Another game?”
“Jason can play again. I’ll get us some more drinks.”
“My round, mate.” Jason pressed a couple of notes into my hand. “Get some chasers as well.”
The barman took a few minutes with the beers and whisky, so I checked who had contacted me. I was hoping it was Saff, but an unknown number came up. Although I didn’t recognise it, I knew exactly who had sent it.
Tris, I really want to make it up to you. Will you at least meet me for a drink, son?
I shoved my phone back in my pocket. I didn’t want to deal with Louis now.
The rest of the evening whizzed by.
Apart from Darren, I didn’t really have any male friends and it was good chatting and bantering with Andy and Jason. Both of them were good guys, solid and dependable.
The type of people I needed in my life right now.
All too soon, it was closing time. “I’m getting a kebab,” announced Andy. “What about you two?”
“Yeah, why not?” I agreed. “It’s on the way home.”
There were a few people before us in the queue and we patiently waited to be served. The two guys at the front were talking about music, their voices carrying to the back of the takeaway where we stood.
“I’d have given anything to see Trash Gun play. This tour they’re doing is off the scale. And they’ve got that hot chick supporting them.”
“Yeah, she’s fucking smoking.”
Clearly not knowing I was there, and certainly not knowing who I was, the two of them went about describing what they would like to do to Saff. I hadn’t realised idiots like that existed outside of prison.
Without thinking, I barged to the front where they were and confronted them.
“How dare you speak about her like she’s an object,” I hissed.
Both of them looked at me through narrowed eyes.
“What business is it of yours?” One of them inclined his chin towards me. “She your sister or something?”
My lip curled in distaste. “No. Saff’s my girlfriend.”
They looked between each other, then at me before bursting out into peals of laughter.
“Course you are, mate. You, standing in a kebab shop, saying you’re fucking Saff Barnes. Get real.”
Instinctively, I pulled back my arm. Every fibre of my body wanted to punch him. A restraining hand landed on my shoulder. Andy shook his head and mouthed ‘not worth it’ towards me.
He was right, naturally, but it didn’t stop the anger coursing through my bloodstream.
The rational part of my brain ended up taking over. Say I did beat the guy up, he’d say I provoked him and he was only trying to protect himself. His word against mine. Witnesses who would probably be his mates. I didn’t need any more trouble, even if I was only doing it to protect Saff and her reputation. Look what protecting her had meant last time.
I let my arm drop back down to my side and took a step back. “Everything I say is true. Just be careful who you’re mouthing off to next time.”
And I did the right thing by walking away.
When I was back at home, I checked my phone again before trying to get some sleep.
No new messages.
The doubt nibbling at me earlier grew teeth and took hold.
What if Jason had been right and there was something going on between Saff and Scott.
I don’t know what made me do it, but I opened my dad’s message again.
Twenty words trying to make up for several years of neglect, particularly these past few months.
At least he was trying.
Whether it was the alcohol or the disconnect between Saff and I right now, I didn’t know.
Before I could change my mind, I typed back Okay. Where and when? and pressed send.
11
Saff
Despite the Cardiff show only being the second of the tour dates, it was an amazing gig.
The crowd for TheSB was bigger than last night and the reception Scott and I got for Wasted By My Side was something like I’d never experienced. The adrenaline rush, the flush creeping over my skin, it was almost as good as sex with Tris. Almost.
We were staying in the city for the night. The next gig wasn’t until Saturday, so we had all day Friday to head up to Birmingham, before the final date on Sunday in Manchester—the homecoming show for Trash Gun.
Scott suggested we head out to a club and I was on such a high, I thought it was a good idea.
What I hadn’t expected was an exclusive VIP area which we basically had to ourselves. It was the two bands and a few of the sound techs. I was the only female. To be fair, it was something I was used to.
If there were any other women around, they would only be after one thing - Scott.
He slung a protective arm around my shoulders as soon as we sat down in the booth, effectively trapping me inside. My gut told me to get away, go back to the hotel and call Tris.
Shit.
I remembered I hadn’t made contact with him today. We usually talked after a gig, but it was a Thursday night and it was—I sneaked a look at my phone—after midnight. He’d be working in the morning on the job the other side of London, so he’d have an early start. Trying to call him now would be a mistake. I’d only end up waking him and he’d get angry with me.
Who was I trying to kid? Tris never got mad at me. He got mad at people who were trying to hurt me. The guy in the car park… Carl.
The thought of Carl’s name made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and a shiver shot down my spine. To think of him and that night brought on a sense of panic, despite the fact I hadn’t heard from him in a while. I wriggled in my seat.
“You okay?” asked Darren from the other side of the table. He’d obviously sensed a change in my mood.
I nodded. The music was too loud to be able to explain to him how I felt without letting the entire entourage know what I was thinking. “Yeah, fine,” I yelled instead.
A round of tequila appeared on the table and I sank the first shot without any difficulty. I
f all else failed, I could get completely obliterated and forget all about Carl.
Several rounds later, I was feeling no pain at all.
I glanced around the booth and noticed everyone else had melted away, leaving Scott, me and a couple of other women there. Groupies, I guessed from the way they were primping and preening in front of him.
“I need to use the bathroom,” I announced and shoved Scott out of the way.
As I walked away, I heard one of the women say something about how relieved she was I was leaving. I had been right in my line of thinking.
There weren’t many people in the restroom and I quickly found a cubicle. Locking the door behind me, I sat down and took the opportunity to look at my phone for messages.
Almost immediately, I wished I hadn’t.
Along with a picture of me inhaling the heroin smoke was a message: Don’t want this getting out in the public domain, do you? You really should consider getting me that cash.
I leaped up and turned around before emptying the contents of my stomach into the toilet. The stale taste of tequila filled my mouth as I came back to an upright position, trying to control my breathing.
The image on the phone taunted me along with Carl’s threat. I couldn’t keep ignoring him, but I didn’t want to give him what he wanted. Without another thought, I deleted the message and the picture.
Someone hammered on the door of the cubicle, asking if I was going to be much longer. I couldn’t very well hide out in there until closing time. Reluctantly, I unlocked the door and stepped out, throwing an apology in the direction of the girl who was waiting. I ran my hands underneath the tap, ignoring the looks of the other women waiting who thought they knew who I was. I wasn’t in the mood for polite conversation.
Scott was alone at the table when I returned.
“What happened to your friends?” I asked, sliding in next to him.