The Bare Necessities

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The Bare Necessities Page 15

by John David Harding


  “Then you must try harder, my dear,” Lucinda teased. “Because someone's got to. So anyway, as it's a naturist venue, your father just wanted to call the Police. I don't know why he thought that was a good idea or what the rozzers would say, but I suggested that I go along and see you. To talk some sense into you.”

  “Right. And then tell him that I am not coming home tomorrow.”

  “No. I intend to stay here for a few days. I will ring him and tell him that you are considering what I am saying and then in a week's time, I'll go home. By which time you will be somewhere else. And hopefully my brother will have calmed down.”

  “You're staying here?” Jack asked, and she giggled.

  “Oh don't look so surprised. One of my husbands was a naturist. My first husband, and the one I wished I had kept.”

  “Really? I didn't know you were a naturist.”

  “Yeah well, to be fair, I've had twelve husbands, so I've had just about every hobby and profession going.” Lucinda looked at Jack's companions. “Girls, avoid doctors. Sex is just a biology lesson. Fishermen are boring. As are wine experts. I tell him to pick up a bottle on the way home and I just it's life history when he gets to the house when all I want to do is drink the bloody stuff.”

  “Aunty,” Jack interrupted.

  “Oh the naturist, young Robert. I can still see him. Married at eighteen. Divorced at twenty. Just got cut off from my social circle and he couldn't cope with the problems it caused. He ran away. There's not much naturism in the Rees-Montague world.” She looked at Jack and smiled at him. “And it may happen to you. But don't let it worry you. Life's too short to let other people run it.”

  “He won't,” Paige told her. “Well he better not. We had a chat.”

  “Excellent. Now, I'm off to bed, I've had a long drive down, and I have a cheeky 18 year old Speyside to have a gobble of, and I shall see you in the morning. My future stars.”

  “Yeah, and thank you,” Jack told her.

  “No worries. Anything for my favourite nephew,” she said with a smile. “And when this is all over, you owe me a bottle of 25 year old firewater.”

  Jack laughed. “Sure.”

  “Something classy mind. Like a Laphroaig. I don't want any old rubbish.”

  * * * * *

  “What's up?” Paige asked as Claire returned to their tent with an angry look in her eye.

  “The music pub in Weston. They cancelled.”

  “Oh!” Jack moaned. “Oh well I guess we just go straight to the festival. There must be a camp site nearby for a day or two.”

  “No, you don't get it. They rang to cancel because of us.” She crossed her arms and held out her phone. “The Police have been to see them because a member of the public has put in a complaint that they will be hosting a sex show.”

  “What's that got to do with us?”

  “We are the sex show,” Claire moaned and sighed. “The guy was genuinely sorry, but he thought that the Police would try and take his license away if he went ahead with it. So he's rang to cancel.”

  “But why would a member of the public care about us?” Jack asked, and Claire sighed. “I mean, who knows?”

  Claire shrugged. “I know there are videos on the Internet, and I guess someone must have seen them when they put a poster up saying we were coming on Thursday. I don't know.”

  “But … we aren't that popular are we?”

  Jack took his phone off charge from the electrical hookup and opened the browser. Paige looked over his shoulder as he navigated to the popular video sharing site and scrolled down the list of the most popular videos, and he didn't have long to go before he started seeing “Naked Band” and “Bare Necessities.”

  “Fuck! We are above Dancing Kittens,” Paige cried. “Fourth most popular video this week. That's … like four million views.”

  Claire snatched the phone from Jack and looked at the tiny screen. “How did that happen?” The screen went black as a telephone call came through and Jack pressed “off” on his phone.

  “Four million views,” Claire muttered. “Hey we are famous. Or notorious.”

  “So that's why they cancelled.”

  “Are we going to have this everywhere?” Paige moaned. “Are we going to have problems just playing our music?”

  Claire sighed. “Maybe. Maybe not. I don't know. I've only heard off the pub in Weston so let's hope it's a one-off.”

  The three of them loaded their car in silence. On one hand, them being on the front page of one of the most popular sites on the Internet was good, but at the same time, the notoriety it was bringing disadvantages.

  Jack turned on the radio as they pulled away from the site, waving to the delighted owners and then accelerated down the country lane. Paige moaned when a boy band came through the speakers and pressed a button to find another station.

  “And another caller, what's on your mind?”

  “Not Peter Moran,” Paige moaned.

  “I want to talk about some filth in our society,” the woman announced.

  “Of course she does,” Claire mocked. “Get it off.” Paige went to press the button when something made her stop.

  “That I am outraged by. My son saw a naked band online called The Bare Necessities, and it was clear that they are just using sex to try and sell their music.” Paige laughed and looked behind her at a horrified Claire sat on the back seat of the car.

  “Yes,” the ex-newspaper editor announced. “I think we've all seen the clips.”

  “And I don't think that should be allowed. Someone should tell them to get their clothes on.”

  “I agree,” the host announced.

  Claire and Paige looked at each other ominously as the radio show host launched into a bitter tirade against them, referring to the two girls as “strumpets” and their shows “disgusting.”

  Jack laughed as the bitter man reached the end of his rant and looked at them. “What? We've pissed off Peter Moran. Come on, it means we must be doing something right? Don't you think?”

  “He's a powerful man,” Claire muttered.

  “He's washed-up,” Jack replied. “Wasn't he the one that blackmailed a child for a newspaper story or something. No-one pays any attention to him. Do they?”

  * * * * *

  “Paige,” an excited voice shouted down the phone. “You're all over the Internet.”

  The lead singer laughed. “Yeah, I know.”

  “No. Like all over the Internet. And all my friends are talking about it. It's like … wow!”

  “You sound better,” her sister told the bouncy sixteen year old.

  “Yeah … had a visit from the CPN. It's fine. I'm fine. But what's going on?”

  “Our set was cancelled in Weston and I have been called a strumpet on the radio,” she said with an upbeat lilt to her voice. “And I am now in a tiny camp site, and because it's textile I've got to wear clothes.”

  “Oh,” Hazel muttered. “That's a bit shit.”

  “Yeah. But the tour's been good. I'm really enjoying it. How's Mum and Dad, and Jeremy?”

  “Mum and Dad found out about your band being naked today and started asking lots of questions. I was like, I don't know much, but they want to talk to you.”

  “Oh great,” Paige muttered. “Claire spoke to her parents earlier, and they were well shocked about her success. Jack's parents are going mental at him.”

  “Mum was well excited,” Hazel said in a dramatic voice. “Kept saying that you are going to be the next Whitney Houston. Dad was just shocked.”

  “And Jeremy?”

  “He's said nothing,” Hazel said and then dropped the volume of her voice. “I think he got into a fight, but he's said nothing. But 'e knows. You sure it's all fine? OK with that Jack?”

  “I'm good. I told you,” Paige repeated. “And Jack is fine. We've forgiven him and we are sharing a sleeping bag!” Hazel sniggered. “But Jeremy … I didn't think he would care. What's your friends said?”

  Hazel
hummed. “They want me to do the same. Strip in the town and sing.” Paige laughed, and even Hazel gave a titter. “I've said if you go to number one, I will. Please don't get to number one.”

  “I won't,” Paige promised. “I doubt we will even chart. Ever. But you really sound happier now.”

  “I am,” her little sister replied. “My big sister is 'bout to be a big star.”

  “Everyone keeps telling me that but I'll believe it when it happens.”

  Chapter XV

  “Hello?” Claire answered her phone after checking the number and looked across at Paige and Jack, with a raised eyebrow. “What can we do for you, Andre? It's two in the morning.”

  “I would like to be your agent,” the man told her, and Claire put her smartphone on loudspeaker.

  “Pardon?” Claire asked.

  “I want to be your agent,” he slurred, and she heard him shuffle. “I know we were demanding and unfair, but I do love your music.” Claire looked at Paige who slowly shook her head. “And I know you're still unsigned, so please, let me work with you.”

  “We aren't too convinced,” Claire announced. “And it's 2am. What the hell is going on?”

  “OK. I'll be honest. If we don't get your signature, then I'm finished. My uncle and me. We've been around for decades, but we've lost some key clients, and we've had a bit of a … er … well a bit of a setback with some new artists. And bank need us to have new clients. And so we seriously need your business, and I really liked you.”

  Claire hummed, but Paige sat up and looked at the phone. “Us signing with you should be good for, like, both of us. Not just to stop you going bankrupt!”

  “Is that Paige?” Andre asked. “I know I said some things, but I think you guys are going to be huge.”

  “Thanks to Claire,” Paige reminded him. “I don't think we need an agent. Claire's got it all sorted. But we do need some sleep, so good night.”

  “I … I … look I've got some favours to call in. It honestly would be last roll of the dice for my uncle and me. And we'd throw everything at you.” Paige gulped. “I'm begging. Please. At least meet with me and hear me out. I really would work extremely hard for you. It’d be you and just you.”

  Claire stared at Paige and Jack. Paige rubbed her eyes and swore. “Why now? Why … I don't get it.”

  “Can we call you back?” Claire asked.

  “Yeah, like when the Sun thing is in the sky and not the fucking moon.”

  They heard a sniff from the end of the telephone and a grunt. “Yeah OK.”

  There was silence as Claire pushed the “red” button on her smartphone. “He's got a bloody cheek,” Jack proclaimed angrily as Claire's phone went dark and the only light source in the tent disappeared. “A real cheek. To say that and to ring us.”

  Claire sighed and rubbed the back of her hair. “You know, I think Paige could do with an agent.”

  “But he's … he's pub football in the park not Premier League. He's amateur hour. But it's up to Paige.”

  “Excellent. Then I say, let's go to sleep.”

  “Paige,” Claire moaned.

  “So it's not up to me?” Paige replied and looked behind her. “The agent thing is up to all of us. I don't know. I am not sure if I want an agent at all, but if I am going to have one then he's less … bossy … than the other ones.”

  “There's something wrong with him,” Jack replied. “Paige deserves better.”

  “Will you stop saying that?” The talented singer snapped into the darkness. “It's about us, not me.”

  “Well, if we want to make it big, then we need to get into the MP3 stores like iTunes and Amazon and stuff. We need a video shot and …”

  “And we don't want to give 8%,” Jack added. “He can piss right off.”

  “What then. 1%?”

  “No higher than 2.5,” Jack countered. “And what about merchandise?”

  “Can't we discuss this when I am awake,” Paige moaned, and Claire lay back down in her sleeping bag.

  “It's just …” Claire muttered into the darkness.

  “What?” Jack asked.

  “Well, he seems quite desperate tonight.”

  “We could get a better deal, you mean.”

  “Absolutely,” Claire replied. “Perhaps if …”

  “Perhaps if you two want to share the double sleeping bag if you want to talk business at 2am in the sodding morning,” Paige snapped. “And seriously Jack, if you want to discuss business, please don't get a stiffy and stick it in my bloody back as you cuddle up to me.”

  “Cuddle, eh?” Claire teased. “Hey, that could start a rumour.” Paige snorted. “Well you two have shared the double sleeping bag all trip,” she teased.

  “I am too tired for this discussion,” Paige moaned. “OK. Do we have to do Andre now?”

  “Yes,” Claire said excitedly. While Claire was keen to enlist the help of the agent, they had decided on a maximum commission, and a set of demands that Claire was only too happy to ring him to discuss.

  “We are not prepared to pay eight percent,” she told him. “We are viewing it at considerably less than that. We want our songs and album on iTunes, and we want a video,” she demanded from the weary man. “Oh, and we want to discuss it with you in 36 hours time.”

  “Sure, I'll set up a meeting in our office.”

  “In our office,” Claire said to a snigger from her band mates. “It's a green tent in a camp site.” Andre groaned. “If you hadn't had been so awkward from the start then this wouldn't be necessary,” Claire reminded him. “Do we have an agreement?”

  “Yeah,” he grunted, and Claire promised to ring him in the morning with directions to where they would be.

  * * * * *

  Claire giggled as she grabbed Jack's hand. “Where's Paige?”

  “She is over there,” she replied and pointed to a craft stall. They were not used to seeing Paige dressed, but they were at a festival and had to be clothed – at least until their performance.

  The organisers had subtly asked Claire whether they could be clothed for their show as they had been spoken to by the local Police who were keen to “keep the peace,” but Claire reminded them that they were the “Bare Necessities” and the audience would expect them to be unclothed.

  The harassed-looking woman disappeared before returning and demanding that Claire and Paige take to the stage with their genitals covered. “You can be topless,” the woman told her. “But you can't go on naked.”

  Claire hummed. “If we say we can't get dressed, you won't let us on stage?”

  “We will not let you on stage undressed,” Claire was told. She looked at Jack who was listening in.

  “Sure,” Jack told her. “We can do.”

  “Can we?”

  “Yeah,” Jack told her. “I can promise you that none of us will go onto the stage undressed.” The woman gave a sigh of relief.

  “Thank you. You don't know what pressure we've been under. Some talk show host and some Christian group have encouraged people to write into us for giving you a platform, and now the Police have come to see us. We've never had this before, but … well you are a little controversial.”

  “What's Paige going to say?” Claire snapped the moment the lady had left their vicinity. “She is going to flip.”

  “I never said we would remain clothed,” Jack replied. “Listen to what she said. We can't go on naked, so we won't.”

  Claire's expression changed. “Cheeky,” she giggled. “OK, I like. I like a lot.”

  “Good,” Jack muttered.

  “Ahh look, sleeping bags. Singles,” Claire pointed out as they meandered down an aisle of stalls.

  Jack muttered. “I quite like sharing.”

  “I bet you do.”

  “No, it's nice. It's like having a cuddly hot-water bottle.” Claire burst out laughing, and Jack grinned mischievously. “I am not giving that up for anything.”

  “OK. What about this, wind chimes?”

  �
��We haven't anywhere to hang them,” Jack moaned. “And they are not going in my car.”

  “Herbal car fresheners?” Claire teased. “Or what about this. Tattoos and piercings.”

  Jack shook his head, and Claire smirked. “I've always wanted my belly button pierced.”

  “Well go on then,” Jack told her. “I'll wait.”

  “I don't want to do it on my own.”

  “Well I don't want anything pierced!”

  She pursed her lips and batted her eyelids. “For me! I thought proper rockers loved tats and piercings? Have a tattoo.”

  “Well I am not a proper rocker then!” Claire shrugged and scowled. “Sorry, I don't like those places. Go with Paige.” She frowned and moaned, but they walked on, bought a drink from the bar, and Jack tried some home-made chilli jam that caused him to splutter. “Are you annoyed with me?” Jack asked Claire as they meandered back towards their tent.

  “No,” Claire snapped. “Not really.”

  “Then … why the face?”

  “Nothing,” she replied and then looked at him. “OK, come in with me to have my belly button pierced. I don't expect you to have anything done, but come with me. Please.”

  Jack snorted. “They aren't clean.”

  “It'll be fine. Let's at least look.” Claire grabbed Jack by the arm and guided him towards the little tattooist to have her navel pierced. Jack watched and held onto Claire's hand as she flinched when the piercing was made and was resolute that no part of his body was to going to be a playground for the tattooist's talents, despite encouragement from his band-mate.

  Claire openly admired her little metal bar that adorned her teenage body and Jack had to admit it looked good on her before they left. “I bet Paige wants one now,” he told her. “And I never had you down to get a piercing.”

  “If I can play the guitar naked in front of thousands of people then I can have a bit of my body pierced,” she replied and flashed him a smile.

  * * * * *

  Claire was late walking onto the stage, by which time the crowd were noisy and excited. “What bloody time do you call this?” Paige asked her into her microphone with a smile. Both of the girls were topless but were wearing white knickers.

  “I was going for a wee,” Claire shouted back and reached for her own microphone. “Did you go?”

  “No, I just wee on the front row,” Paige teased as the crowd giggled. “If you think it's raining later, well sorry!” The audience at the small festival appreciated her joke, and she clapped her hands together and looked out over the thousand-strong audience. “Big shout out to Stroud. This is the biggest audience we've ever played to, and we hope you enjoy it!”

 

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