“I can't believe he didn't know about your naturism,” Paige whispered. “Why didn't you tell him?”
“'Cause, he is not that close a friend,” Claire replied and then sniffed. “And I don't like non-naturists to know.”
“I think he liked it,” Paige added. “And I'm warming to him. But he is still up to something. And I'd love to know what it is.”
* * * * *
“Did Claire give you my number?” Paige asked as she sat down at the table of the little coffee shop.
“No,” he said immediately and looked at the expression on the fiery girl's face. “Well sort of. She used my phone to ring you that day, and I never wiped the memory. Now, what do you want, to drink?”
“I'm fine.”
“No seriously, I'm going to get myself one,” Jack offered. “I'm paying.”
Paige smiled. “OK. If you're paying, I'll have a large mocha, with extra espresso, marshmallows, cream, chocolate stick and chocolate sprinkles with a blueberry muffin, tiffin and walnut cake on the side,” Paige told him and then smiled. “Or just a small hot chocolate'll be fine.”
Jack got up from the table, and Paige sent Claire a text telling her that Jack had met her and that she didn't want to come between them, which elicited a confused response from her friend, who genuinely appeared to have no idea what Paige was intimating at.
“No, seriously, we are not an item,” Claire snapped, when she got fed up of the text message tennis and rang the diminutive firebrand. “And we won't be. I don't like him like that, but if you do, then enjoy yourself. Now, I've got to go, lessons.”
“OK … fine,” Paige muttered to the beeping handset. “Impatient little witch!”
Jack returned with a giant mocha espresso, complete with cream, marshmallows, cream and chocolate sprinkles and three pieces of confection. She groaned. “I was joking,” she told him as he took a sip of his latte.
“Were you?”
“Yes,” Paige scowled. “This is like a meal.”
“Oh, well, you said you wanted it.” Paige shook her head and thanked him, enquiring as to whether spending over ten pounds on two people at a coffee shop registered as excessive to him. Jack shrugged. “Not really.”
“So what do you want to meet me for?”
“I don't know,” Jack admitted. “I just fancied a chat with you. I know Claire a bit and … I had a free morning, and I wanted to talk to you and …” Paige raised her eyebrows at him as he bumbled. “I want to help you record your music, and I wondered if you'd consider recording some of the music I wrote.” Her eyes narrowed, and he tapped his fingers. “Did Claire tell you 'bout Ellie?”
Paige shook her head. “No.”
“I was in a band called Element of Surprise and I wrote music, lots of music for our band. And my girlfriend was the lead singer, and her voice was similar to yours, so it's written for your vocal range.”
Paige smiled and looked into her mountain of calories. “OK, right. Guess your band split up?”
“My girlfriend and I split up,” Jack said instantly. “So the band was toast as she started going out with the third member.”
“Oh,” Paige muttered.
“Yeah, and the songs haven't been recorded since.”
Paige grunted. “Sure but I don't want to record just your stuff. I have some music I've written too, but I'll need Claire's help. I don't know enough to know what instruments I want with them. I want a guitar with them 'cause that's what I had in mind, and Claire's working on that. Claire reckons we should record an album but that's a lot of songs. I dunno. She said make sure there's also a couple of covers 'cause everyone knows them but no idea what, but they have to have a guitar in them and they have to suit mine and Claire's voice and … why are you looking like that?”
“I'm not, I'm just … well you've not asked me to do anything other than just mess with the equipment but I can help if you want. You know, of course that I play the guitar and keyboard, and I can do that like I did on your song, but …”
Paige's expression caused him to trail off. “Why are you doing this?” Jack stopped at the interruption and sniffed, taking the opportunity to sip at his drink as he thought. “Is it to impress Claire?”
“No, not at all. I guess I've missed my music. It was my escape, and I like your voice and …”
“But why me? There are hundreds, thousands, loads of people with good voices, and many of those are women. Why me?”
“Does it matter?” Jack asked. “We could have fun together, relax and stuff. I'm looking forward to it. For the first time in months, I am really excited about using my studio again.”
“Yeah, me too. But there is something I don't get. My dad always told me to be careful of the upper classes. He said posh people like you, are always looking to screw normal people over.”
“I'm not,” Jack quickly told her. “But if you don't want my help, we'll go our separate ways,” he offered and watched Paige's expression.
“If that's how you feel,” Paige snapped and got up, only for Jack to grab her by the wrist.
“No,” he admitted. “It's not. Really, I am looking forward to it. I have some great songs I'd love to hear, and I do like your voice. I think it's great.”
Paige's face flickered into a smile. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Don't take offence, but I still don't trust you.”
“None taken,” Jack promised. “Am I allowed to not trust you, either?” Paige bit her lip and giggled. “My Dad always told me not to trust 'normal people' and said they are always out to fuck us posh types up.”
Paige giggled. “I can believe it. I heard about your parents going skitz about you and Claire.” He shrugged, and she looked down at her cakes. “But you can help me eat some of this! It's bloody ridiculous buying all this. What the hell were you thinking of?”
“Well you said you wanted it,” he replied defiantly. “You asked for it!”
Chapter VIII
Paige, Claire and Jack met regularly over the following two months, meeting most weekends and often during the weekdays, when their schedules allowed. Jack's Aunt Lucinda was certain Jack was “diddling” both girls, but she approved of her nephew “dipping his wick” so much that she was only too happy to assist in the deception and aided the three of them so that they were not interrupted by Jack's family.
After the third session, Claire suggested that they form a band, and as all their music was being recorded naked, they became “The Bare Necessities.”
For their début album – called “Xposed” - they had a mixture of music written by Paige, by Jack and cover versions. As much as it pained her, Paige had to admit Jack was a good songwriter and his work made up half of the twelve songs on their album.
Paige loved some of the lyrics, especially “Even My Dog Wants You Dead” that he wrote after seeing Ellie a couple of months previous. Jack was happy for his two band members to amend his songs and Paige had made sweeping changes to several of his tracks to increase their tempo.
Paige was more protective of her three songs; “I Am Free” was written about a naturist running through a rainstorm and she argued that Jack could not understand the song as he was “a bloody textile.” He raised his eyebrows at the time and pointed out that he was recording their music naked – at her insistence – but this was not sufficient for the fiery redhead to concede to his changes.
As June and their exams drew to a close, the three of them had twelve songs they were delighted with and had spent hours perfecting, and Paige had grown to like her wealthy friend. True to her promise, she had kissed him after every session, but had also told him that it didn't mean that she liked him, much to Claire's amusement; Paige was obviously lying and it was clear Paige and Jack had developed a bond that neither of them wanted to admit to.
“What we need to do is some gigs,” Paige muttered. “Studio singing is fine, but singing live will be awesome.”
“I was going to send our CD off to some recor
d companies,” Jack suggested. “I mean, they will love some of it, I know.” Paige sniffed and ran her hands through her hair. “They will love Paige's voice, certainly.”
“I hadn't thought of being a music star.”
“Yeah, if you go on TV you need to sing with your clothes on,” Claire added.
“Depends on the TV channel!” She quipped and shrugged. “Yeah, I know. OK, send 'em off, I think it'll be a good experience. But I have no idea if I can sing well with my clothes on.”
“Really?” Jack asked. “You would be OK with us sending copies of our music to record companies and agents and the like?” Paige nodded as she downed the lunchtime beer. “Oh and I've had an idea for a change of riff in the Cotton Tails.”
Paige groaned; it was one of her songs that he wanted to change, but he tugged at her naked arm and the nude girl returned to their studio room.
* * * * *
“Jack,” his father boomed, and the eighteen year-old shifted awkwardly. “Now that your exams are over, I bet you want to get straight down and working at the firm,” he gushed.
Jack groaned. “Well …”
“Well what, darling?” The simpering voice of Anne Rees-Montague asked. “You can't stay around here all day.”
“Yeah, I know,” Jack agreed. “But I've got all year. I've worked really hard on my A Levels, and I would love a few weeks, just 'til I get my results, to just chill and spend some 'me time.'”
“Me time?” His father laughed and tapped on the table. “You're eighteen, lad! Yer need to stop fannying about and get some real work done.”
“I will. I want a few weeks, just to recharge my batteries.”
“Work'll do that,” his father barked. “And what would you do for two months?”
Jack sighed. “I'm back into my music. After Ellie left, I lost the will to do it, but now I am taking full advantage of the recording studio. I'll start in September time.”
His father snorted and spoke derisively at his son. “I don't think so.”
“Paul,” a voice came from the corner of the room, and Jack looked to see his Aunt Lucinda holding a half-empty bottle of whisky in her hand.”
“This doesn't concern you,” she was told, but Lucinda cackled and sat down on the sofa. “Can you leave us please? I need to have a word with my son.”
“Yeah and it's my nephew that you are terrorising.”
“When I want parenting advice from you, I shall ask.”
Lucinda sat back and smiled at her brother. “I remember a little boy starting work at seventeen in the holidays and used to come home crying 'cause his father had made him work from 8am to 8pm without a break and he just wanted time with his secret girlfriend.” Paul sat motionless. “What was her name? Remind me.”
“It doesn't matter.”
“I think it does. She was the daughter, or niece of the gardener. You remember? Lovely little red-headed girl. Always smiling and very agreeable. What was her name?”
“Gina,” he said quietly.
“Gina,” Lucinda repeated loudly and took a swig from the bottle of expensive single malt. “That was it. And what happened to Gina?”
“This is not the time or the place,” he thundered. “And …”
“She got extremely bored of an unhappy young man. And she went, taking her sweet little red hair and bounce away with her.” Paul's eyes narrowed, and Lucinda smiled at her incandescent brother. “Only what you are doing to Jack, happened to you. You think it's some rite of passage, to be a cunt to your children?”
“Get out!” Paul shouted, but Lucinda sat unmoved. “I said …”
“I heard,” she told him. “And I am ignoring you. As I bet you wished you ignored our father.” He gulped, and Lucinda cleared her throat. “’Cause by the time you did stand up to him, sweet little Gina was off being agreeable with someone else. So, Jack isn't working for you, he wants to be free for a few weeks. Give 'em that, 'cause when he starts working, he ain't gonna stop 'til he's in his sixties.” Paul shook his head, and Lucinda added. “Or has a nervous breakdown.”
Paul flinched, and she got up. “It's my choice, it's my …”
“It's Jack's actually. But if I find him working next week, I might just look to see about my shares in the firm and what rights I have to manage it. After all, I have a vested interest in my nephew's future employment as well.”
“But … we agreed.”
“Yeah. And you also told me when you cried yourself to sleep every night that if you had kids you wouldn't be like our Dad was. You break your promise, I break mine.” He grunted and gestured wildly at his departing sister. “Now I'm off to the Off License, want anything?”
Jack looked at his father. “Happy now?” The middle-aged man thundered, and Jack shrugged.
“Yeah, I think I am!”
* * * * *
Paige and Claire straightened their T-shirts and looked at each other. “Let's hope this one goes better,” Paige muttered as they approached the pub on the outskirts of Croydon.
Their attempts at trying to find a venue where they could play live music was proving fruitless. The more popular pubs were not interested in a band doing their first live set, and some of the smaller, niche venues wanted particular styles of music.
Paige and Claire felt patronised at their penultimate pub when the owner called them “schoolkids who want to play” and Paige swore at him, en route to being ejected from the tiny establishment.
Claire and Paige strode into the bar more confident than they felt. “Could we see the manager, or landlord, or whoever?” Claire asked when the barmaid gave the two teenagers her attention.
“'Ey, you old 'nuff to be in 'ere.”
“Err … yes!” Paige replied and then had to find her purse to show the barmaid her photo identification to prove this fact. “We just want to speak to the landlord.”
She shook her head and shouted through a doorway at the back of the bar. “Terry! Terry! Some girls to see ya!”
A bald-headed, rotund gentleman bustled into the bar and looked at the slim Paige and curvy Claire smiling unnaturally at him. “What d'ya want? Ya better not be 'ookers wanting to put ya cards on my noticeboard! I said no to the last lot.”
Claire and Paige scoffed. “Do we look like hookers?” Paige looked at her clothes as Terry gave a muffled apology. “I really need to think about my dress sense.”
Claire tutted at her friend. “We would like to play a gig at your pub,” she told him, and he groaned.
“Not another one. Look, 'ave you done any locals before, 'cause I ain't see ya?”
“No,” Claire admitted. “But …”
“I don't do untried bands. 'Cause what happens is they never turn up, and I look like a dick. And when they do they can't sing. Good at karaoke are you?”
“We did meet at a karaoke competition,” Paige admitted, and he laughed. “But we aren't bad and …”
“What, your mum say that? Look, sorry girls, but, it ain't happenin'”
Claire rubbed her forehead as Paige banged the bar. “Look, all we want is a chance.” She clicked her fingers at Claire. “Where's that CD?” Claire rummaged around in her bag and passed her friend a compact disc, and she tuned to the landlord. “That CD player there, is it playing this rubbish at the moment?”
“ELO are classic, my dear.”
“Right, well put that on, listen to any song for thirty seconds and if you still think we are crap, we'll piss off.”
“It's my pub, I'll tell you to piss off now if I want you to go.”
“OK.” Paige took the only money she had in her purse, putting the five pound note on the counter. “I bet you five pounds that after listening to one of our songs you want us to play your pub.”
He looked at the angry face of Paige and the inquisitive expression from Claire and snatched the CD from her, loading it into the player behind the bar. “What track?”
“Any track. There are nine original songs and three covers.” He pressed RANDOM on t
he player and then forward, and the CD jumped forward to Number Nine.
“Sweet Love?” Paige asked her friend.
“Girls,” Claire replied. “You should know it off by heart now.”
“Oh of course. Written by our third member. Upbeat song!” Terry held his hand out and listened to the guitar solo at the beginning and Paige's voice dancing melodiously. He roared with laughter when the lyrics started suggesting the irrational things “girls do” and looked at Paige. “He's going through a tough time with women,” she explained, and the landlord chuckled. He pressed forward again and listened to I Am Free and then Sweet Love and finally the cover of Bad Reputation.
“How much are you selling the CDs for?”
“Five pounds,” Claire replied, and he opened his wallet and put a ten pound note on the bar. “I'll keep this. Tuesday 8pm in the room upstairs?”
“I'll check with Jack,” Claire told him and walked away from the bar with her mobile phone
“I admit it, you're not bad,” he conceded to the gloating Paige.
“I said we weren't.”
“Yeah, it's different doing live work to recording music in a basement,” he told her. “It's very different. But I'll give you a go. But I ain't payin' ya. Ya can make some money flogging ya CD's, but that's it.”
“Sure,” Paige agreed as Claire rejoined them.
“Tuesday 8pm is fine,” she told the landlord and extended her hand over the bar. “I'll see you in a few days,” she promised and shook Terry's hand firmly.
“See you on Tuesday. And don't let me down.”
Chapter IX
“What are you doing?”
“Designing our Internet presence,” Claire replied and looked up at Jack. She pressed a few buttons on her netbook and then shut the lid. “Thought we could do with one. If we are doing gigs, then we need an Internet site.”
“Right,” Jack muttered. “And I bet you want pictures of all of us.”
“Of course.” Jack hesitated as Claire hummed and she sighed. “Yeah, I know. Your parents won't like it.”
“Oh they won't mind me playing music with people, just not naked girls. And certainly not …”
“Yeah I know. Paige and me are the wrong social class.” He gave a pained look, and Claire just shrugged. “I don't know why your parents hate us so much.”
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