by Julie Archer
As the song reached its crescendo, Scott pulled Saff towards him, staring deep into her eyes. At first, she stiffened, but then appeared to relax in his embrace. Then she returned the look, one I recognised, and for a moment I stopped breathing. It was the look she’d given me earlier right before I thrust into her.
Had she lied to me?
“Can’t believe she pulls that look off every night, even though she can’t stand Scott,” Darren said.
I let out a hard breath. Her acting skills were fucking fantastic then. “Are you sure there is nothing going on?”
He turned to face me. “Honestly, Tris. They went out together once. The rest of the time she’s been with us. Oh, and Rosie came to Birmingham after that stupid ass post went viral.” He pulled a face. “Do you really think I’d let her go out with that prick over you? Mate, you have absolutely nothing to worry about.”
Even though both Saff and Darren had reassured me, as I observed the scene unfolding on stage, I wasn’t so sure.
19
Saff
When Scott’s hand snaked up my back, I was conscious of the fact Tris was watching us. I’d got into character each night and sang the song with the passion and intensity it deserved. It seemed Scott was an expert at misreading the situation.
Awkwardly, I pulled away, aware of Tris and Darren whispering to each other as they watched.
Scott’s mouth curled up into a sneer as he finished the rest of the song. I could feel him glaring at me as I swayed along to the beat, slightly less enthusiastically than I would during a usual show.
“Wait, stop!” Scott held up his hand and the rest of the band stopped playing. He turned to me. “What the fuck was that?”
I wrinkled my nose. “What do you mean?”
“That shit show of a performance. We want people to enjoy the song, love, not want to slit their wrists. We need to do it again.”
I bit back the words I wanted to say. Every night we’d done the song, we’d done it exactly the same way. No different. No better. No worse. Why was he chewing me out this time? I caught him surreptitiously stealing a look in Tris’ direction.
Jealousy.
Biting my lip, I checked the time. “Not sure we can, Scott. We need to sound check, and the doors will open soon.”
“I don’t give a fuck about your sound check. If you can’t even get this right, you may as well not bother singing tonight,” spat Scott.
Even from this distance, I could tell Tris was tensing up, ready to step in. The last thing I needed was for him and Scott to get into some sort of fight. Trying to keep my own temper in check, I calmly turned back to Scott.
“Okay, let’s go again.” I inclined my chin to the drummer, and he counted us in.
The song sounded exactly the same as it had the first time, better even, but Scott still wasn’t happy. He made us play it a further three times before he decreed he was satisfied. Each time, he tried to get close to me, but I pulled back. I knew what he was trying to prove—that he was better than Tris—but I wasn’t going to let him get to me.
“Enough, Scott,” called the sound engineer. “It’s fine.”
“Fine? I don’t want fine. I want absolute fucking perfection.” Scott stood with his hands on his hips, crotch thrust forward, breathing hard.
He was a complete dick.
“I need Saff and the guys to do a quick run through. Doors will be open in fifteen minutes.” The sound engineer raised his shoulders. “Gotta be done, sorry.”
“Whatever.” Scott dropped his mic to the floor with a clatter and stalked off stage.
I hovered at the edge of the stage while the roadies quickly assembled TheSB’s kit around Trash Gun’s. We rushed through in about five minutes, only able to check two songs properly.
Scott’s behaviour was selfish. We had as much right to sound check as Trash Gun did. I hated that his macho posturing could potentially ruin what was an important gig for us too. Sure, this was Trash Gun’s homecoming show, but we were playing our part.
Tris found me just before I was going backstage. “You’re pretty impressive, you know?” He drew me in for a kiss, deep and comforting, almost enough to make me forget about Scott’s behaviour. When his fingers started to stroke the back of my neck, I tensed and pulled away.
“You knew already though, didn’t you?” I teased, pretending his actions hadn’t affected me.
He nodded his head but said, “No.”
I aimed a punch at his arm, grinning. “Are you going to watch from backstage?”
“What? And miss out on the full Saff Barnes show? I’ll be front and centre if you want me.”
“I always want you.”
As I melted into his body, Darren wolf-whistled from the stage.
“Put him down, Saff. You don’t know where he’s been,” he said, with a laugh.
“You could say the same about Saff.” Scott Lincoln’s dulcet tones cut the air. He swaggered across to us, glass of whisky in one hand, cigarette in the other despite the ‘No Smoking’ signs plastered around the club.
“Fuck off.”
“Oh, such choice language from such a lady.”
“Leave her alone, Scott. I think she’s made her feelings towards you clear enough.” Tris stood between us, shielding me from the singer.
Scott snorted. “She certainly did the other night, mate. Guess she wasn’t missing you as much as she made out.”
I knew Scott was only trying to stir things up between Tris and me, but it still didn’t stop me wanting to deck him. If it wasn’t for the fact I didn’t want to let Jonas down—again—I would have walked out there and then.
I’d had enough of Scott Lincoln and his shit.
With the late sound check, it only seemed a few minutes before we were back on stage performing again. As per his promise, Tris was right in the front, staring up at me while I did my thing.
As it was the last night of the tour, I really let go, taking the performance to another level, really riffing off Darren and Barney, even Tommo. Adrenaline pumped through my veins and I pushed my voice almost to the point of hoarseness. I span around the tiny stage, practically falling over on my heels. Now wouldn’t be a good time to break an ankle.
When it came time to sing the song I’d written for Tris, I stilled. I stood centre stage, bathed in a solo spotlight and put every single emotion I had into the words.
Saviour. Surprise. Salvation.
He was all of those things to me. Everything.
As the final chords died down around me, the audience erupted.
Breathing heavily, I met Tris’ eyes.
He touched his fingers to his lips and blew me a kiss.
My legs wobbled.
Fuck, I loved that man so much.
Darren counted us in for the last song we’d do on this tour and I shook myself back to the present. Now wasn’t the time for an emotional breakdown. I had to get through this and one more appearance with Scott.
Then we could go home.
Not ten minutes later, we were backstage. All of us were in high spirits and nothing could bring me down, not even Scott Lincoln and his attitude.
“You ready?” he slurred in my direction. Clearly, he’d been drinking throughout our set and seemed unsteady on his feet.
I was already dreading going out on stage with him.
The wait until Wasted By My Side seemed to go on forever. I could make out Scott chatting between songs, getting more and more incoherent the longer it went on. The guys were already making inroads into the beer in the dressing room. The Matchbox were hosting the after party and had already laid on some drinks. I was going to need something the minute I’d finished singing again.
Finally, the roadie who had signalled me on each night came to get me.
“As it’s our last night, I’d like to welcome back on stage the wonderful Saff Barnes who has agreed to help me out on this song.” Scott gestured to me, then waved his arm back at the crowd to encourage more cheering. �
�I think you know the one I mean.”
The cheers intensified as the opening chords started. Never had I been so grateful to hear them. It would be the last time I’d have to sing it.
Scott stumbled his way through the first verse and I joined in with the chorus. To say the performance was a shambles was an understatement. Anyone watching would think it was the first ever time we’d sung together and hadn’t practiced less than an hour before. I hated to think what the audience made of it.
When it got to the guitar solo, Scott clutched me to him, one hand resting on my arse, eyes closed as he swayed to the riff. I could feel Tris’ gaze boring into us as I struggled to get away.
“Come on, you know you want me,” Scott hissed in my ear. He wrestled my body so I was facing him. Then, without warning, he launched himself at me, his tongue probing my mouth.
With enormous effort, I shoved him away and he stumbled backwards, falling over his own feet and ending up in a heap on the floor.
And as I looked towards the crowd for help, the space previously occupied by Tris was conspicuously empty.
20
Tris
The crowd parted almost as if I were some kind of religious force. I had to get backstage, had to find Saff, had to make sure she was okay.
Scott Lincoln was an absolute fucking prick. If I laid eyes on him any time soon, he’d be more than struggling to get up off the floor.
“Hey, you can’t go back there.” A burly security guard held up an arm to prevent me from entering the space behind the stage.
“I’m with TheSB.” I tried to shove past him, but the meathead stood firm.
“Yeah, yeah, course you are. Nice try, buddy.” He gave a gruff chuckle. “No pass. No entry.”
Shit.
I hadn’t realised I’d need a pass. I thought being on the VIP list or whatever it was would be enough.
“Can you check the list? I’m Tris Judd, Saff’s boyfriend.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper before scanning it. “Nope, don’t see you, sorry.”
I didn’t understand. After the earlier issues, I thought everything had been sorted. I tried to explain, but met a brick wall, both physically and metaphorically.
Just as I was about to give up, Darren appeared.
“Hey, Tris, you coming to join us?” he called.
“I would, but apparently this guy thinks I’m not allowed.” I gestured to the security guard who turned around to see the guitarist there.
“Come on, man, let a guy see his girlfriend,” pleaded Darren.
“Mr Lincoln provided the list and if he’s not on it, I can’t let him through.”
The mention of Lincoln’s name made my blood boil. I could see what Scott was trying to do; trying to keep me and Saff apart, so he could make his own sleazy move on her.
Well, I wasn’t going to let it happen.
“I guess you’ll have to tell Mr Lincoln his list doesn’t mean anything to me. I’ll be heading backstage with my friend now. My girlfriend needs me.” I squared up to the security guy, though he was easily twice my size. Risky, but necessary.
“Humph. Who am I to stand in the way of true love?” He stepped aside and let me through.
What changed his mind, I’d never know, but I’m glad he did.
I followed Darren backstage and grabbed one of the beers from the ice bucket there. The table was lined up with every type of alcohol you could imagine. I suspected there wouldn’t be much left by the end of the evening. It looked like everyone was up for celebrating.
“You glad this is over?” I asked Darren.
He nodded. “Too much drama in such a short space of time. Much as I love Saff, she does have a habit of getting herself into some ridiculous situations. That thing with Scott for instance. Great publicity, but who knows how many people it’s actually hurt.”
I swigged greedily from the bottle, hoping it would help calm me down. “Me, for a start.” Residual anger swam around my insides. I agreed with Darren’s comments on the situation. Hopefully after this evening, we could go back to being normal again.
Whatever counted as normal in Saff’s world anyway.
An hour later, we were back in the main body of the club with Trash Gun and some fans who had paid for an after show meet and greet.
Looking at the state of Scott, who was swaying around and lurching from group to group, I wondered why anyone would pay to see it. I’d never been a massive fan of any one particular band, so I didn’t understand the adoration and blind devotion to a group of people. However, given how I felt about Saff, I could see my views changing.
She moved around the room with Darren and they politely chatted to a few people, signing posters and CDs. I didn’t even realise bands still did physical merchandise in the digital age. We’d agreed it would be better for me to keep my distance, not come across as the over-protective boyfriend. I was fine with it. My concerns were directed at Scott Lincoln’s, not someone who had only just watched her show.
I wondered what the tour would mean for her future. Whether there would be more opportunities, festival appearances maybe, more time away. I pushed the thoughts from my mind. It wasn’t something to think about now. Tonight, was about celebrating her successes.
Finally, the two of them reached me. Saff wound her arms around my neck and hugged me.
“God, I’ve missed you,” she breathed.
“It’s only been a few hours,” I replied.
“An eternity.”
Darren rolled his eyes. “Honestly, she hasn’t had much to drink.”
His comment made me suspicious. Saff might not have had much alcohol, but what else might she have taken? Or worse, what if Scott had plied her with something? Surely, she wasn’t so stupid as to have made the same mistake again?
“I’m tired, Tris, can we go back to the hotel?” Her hand slid along the band of my jeans, her fingers insinuating their way beneath the denim.
Gently, I pushed her away. “Sounds good to me. Do you need to let anyone know what you’re doing?”
“If you’re leaving you should at least tell me where you’re going.” Scott’s voice came from behind us.
“Ugh, really, Scott? Do you have to do that now?” Saff faced him, hands on hips. “We’ve had a great time on tour, but it’s over now. Letting me sing with you was a stroke of genius and I think we’ve won over some new fans as a result, but if you ever come anywhere near me again, I swear I will finish you.”
A round of applause followed her speech as Darren, Barney and Tommo acknowledged her sentiments. Even a couple of Trash Gun appeared to join in.
“Right, yeah. Um, good luck with it all then.” He slunk off.
I turned to Saff and kissed her forehead. “I think he might finally have got the message.”
“God, I hope so. The last thing I want is for him to stalk me for the next few months. Like I said, it’s been a blast, but I really don’t want anything to do with him.” She shook her head and exhaled loudly.
“You guys heading back to the hotel?” asked Darren.
Saff and I nodded in unison. “But we’ll travel back with you guys tomorrow,” added Saff. “We’ll meet you back here around ten?”
“Sounds good. Now enjoy yourselves tonight, kids.” Darren wagged a finger at us. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”
“Imagine how much scope it gives us.” I laughed.
Saff pecked me on the cheek. “I’m going to use the bathroom and grab my stuff from the dressing room, then we can head off.”
I kissed her back. I couldn’t wait.
21
Saff
It was eerily quiet in the backstage area. The sounds techs had already packed away all the equipment onto the two vans, ready for us to leave in the morning and it was as if we had never been there.
Usually, I liked the quiet aftermath of a gig, but there was something unsettling tonight and I couldn’t put my finger on it.
I we
nt into the ladies and reapplied some lip gloss, knowing it wouldn’t last long before Tris kissed it all from my lips. My insides contracted as I anticipated what was to come. Hopefully me, several times.
My phone vibrated with a message. I assumed it was from Tris, asking me how much longer I was going to be. So needy, that boy. The corner of my mouth quirked up as I swiped the screen.
Instantly, all the good feelings evaporated as I was confronted with a picture.
The picture.
The one of me smoking heroin.
Carl.
It was followed by a message: Guess you’ve made a lot of money off this tour. Should probably push some in my direction unless you want more people to see this.
The phone pinged again with a picture of The Matchbox’s sign with TheSB and Trash Gun’s names on it, along with today’s date.
Shit, shit, shit.
Was he here?
I swung my head from side to side, checking to see if there was someone in the room with me. The doors to the cubicles were all open and there was no sign of anyone else.
The door creaked open and I froze, holding my breath.
Two women, laughing, entered.
“Scott Lincoln is so drunk, I wouldn’t go anywhere near him!” One of them was saying.
The other clocked me. “Don’t know why you would, either. Bet he can’t even get it up.”
They dissolved into giggles at her comment and I gave them a small smile of agreement. Both of them went into separate cubicles and continued their conversation. I wanted to stay in there until they were ready to leave and then go with them, use them as a shield. I couldn’t be sure if Carl was there, it would be easy enough to get a picture of the band sign from the Internet. He was probably doing it to get a reaction from me.
There was another message and this time it was from Tris asking where I’d got to. Gathering my stuff together, I told myself I was being silly. Carl couldn’t possibly be here. I was worrying over nothing. It would be fine.