I roll my eyes. Of course they have. Marcus has probably fucked every willing girl in Sydney by now.
We make our way inside and grab a drink from the bar while we wait for the show to start.
“How many Matiari concerts do you think pure been to?” I ask Erica. “Your Instagram is pretty full up.”
“Oh, you follow us?”
“You come up in my suggestions a lot,” I lie, not willing to admit I follow #matiarimusic so I always see public posts about my one-time friend following his musical dreams. Since the rest of us gave up on our dreams years ago.
“You should follow us. We come to every single Matiari gig,” Erica says.
“Marcus’s voice is everything,” Amy adds.
“And we even go to their after gig parties. We’re like, their unofficial documentarians.”
Amy nods. “It’s our calling.” Oh shit. She’s serious.
“I’ll be sure to click follow next time you pop up.” I smile. They’ve lost their minds.
Sucking noisily on her straw, Amy makes solid eye contact. “Why don’t you do it right now?”
“Uh… sure,” I say, pulling out my phone and doing just that. “There you go.” I show her my phone just as Erica snaps my picture.
“Hashtag new follower alert,” Erica says, bouncing in her toes as she focuses on her phone.
“You’re posting my picture?”
“Just in our story. It’ll be gone in twenty-four hours. Only band photos go in our feed.”
“And photos of us with the band,” Amy adds. “Since it’s our account and all.”
I nod slowly, starting to think they might be a little over-the-top obsessed.
“One…two…” The tech performs his onstage soundcheck before the lights dim.
“Let’s go to the floor,” Erica says, pulling my unfinished drink out of my hands. “We have to get right in front.”
“Only place to be,” Amy says, pushing me as we make our way through the crowd until we’re right up against the stage with all the other groupies wanting Marcus’s attention. This is becoming embarrassing. Maybe I should have stayed home.
Maybe he won’t even recognise me. It’s been six years. Lots of girls and pussy between then and now…
The crowd whoops as the band walks on the stage. They move about in the dim light, getting themselves into position and double checking their instruments to the continued tune of squeals and whistles. Real rock stars. I don’t whoop. I break out into a cold sweat because what if he does recognise me? How pathetic am I going to look then? Shit. I really shouldn’t have come. This is beyond pathetic.
I’m about to take a step back when Marcus’s smooth voice fills the room, and a spotlight trains itself on him. Everything else is black and the only sound belongs to his voice and his guitar. So beautiful. So powerful. I’m instantly transported back to high school, transfixed by him at lunchtime.
Marcus
“Why did you sing your song to my heart?
When you knew we were fragile,
Right from the start.”
I play the last notes of Fragile and open my eyes, nodding my head as I thank the audience while they cheer and clap for us. I fucking love this part. The public recognition, the adoration. I scan the faces of the crowd in front of me, looking for a girl to claim. I frown slightly when I see Erica and Amy. They’re our self-proclaimed chroniclers and are at every show. I appreciate their enthusiasm, but they’re a bit much. Even for me, a guy who loves having his arse kissed while his dick is getting sucked.
Erica grins like she has a secret and nods her head towards the blonde next to her. I shrug a little. Is she picking groupies for me now? Nice try, but I had a blonde last weekend. I'm looking for something more exotic this week since I like to mix it up. Erica’s eye go wide, trying to communicate something as she juts her head forcefully in the blondes direction. That’s when I see her. Holy shit. Naomi-fucking-Prendergast.
Back in high school, I would shamelessly flirt with her every lunchtime. It was primarily to piss my brother off since he was crushing on a girl who didn’t even know his name, but it was also because she’s completely adorable. Like a little puppy you want to scratch behind the ear and feed treats whenever she’s good. I haven’t seen her for years. We had an interesting night together, and when she left, she vanished. I haven’t seen her since. Five or six years, I think.
My eyes drag over her body. Damn. Time has been kind to my little pocket rocket. She’s even hotter than she was back then. And she’s always been hot. Catching her eye, I lift my chin in acknowledgment and she smiles back briefly before she drops her gaze. I announce the next song as I look over at Amy, tilting my head towards the backstage entrance. She nods and I can’t fight my smile, I’m looking forward to the show finishing.
My brother, Theo counts us in with his drumsticks. This song is more upbeat and involves the whole band. There are four of us. I front on lead guitar and vocals, my brother is our drummer, a guy called Lachlan is our bassist—he’s only been with us for a couple of months—and Jack is on keyboards. We’ve known him since school, but he’s also fairly new to the band. It’s not easy keeping members at times. Everyone’s got a fucking opinion.
Four
Naomi
“What did you think?” Amy yells over the din as Matiari leaves the stage.
“They were fantastic,” I reply, a sigh in my voice and a grin on my face. There’s nothing like live music to set your creative soul alight and make you miss performing. I haven’t picked my violin up in ages, and now my fingers are itching to work those strings and bow.
“All it’ll take is one amazing song and they’ll take off,” Erica says, a definitive glint in her eye. “Marcus was born to be a star. He’s always been amazing, but their newest songs are something else.”
I have to agree. Their older stuff was good, but the new songs they played tonight were sublime. But I’d love the chance to add some strings and female vocals in. I think it would add that ethereal quality to their music that would make people stop what they’re doing to feel the music enter their soul. Pity we’re not friends anymore, or I’d tell him that….
Were we ever friends, though? Back in the day, we ran in the same circles, but it was more Marcus and his groupies than Marcus and his friends. He was that guy at school everyone knew and wanted to be around. And I was just another member of the crowd, sitting around him at lunch while he played his guitar. I loved listening to him.
I also loved playing with him.
The difference between me and most of his admirers is that I can play by ear. I quickly learned his songs, hearing the flow of music in my mind and knowing exactly how to play along so he looked even better. I was the perfect backup, never stealing the limelight, only adding to his shine. I remember the look on his face the first day I pulled out my violin and joined in. I impressed him. Enough that we became somewhat of a lunchtime duo. Never anything more.
Until that stupid fucking uni party. I didn’t even drink much that night, so I figure one of my drinks was spiked because I have zero recollection of what I did beyond a certain point. Then I woke up the next morning in bed with Marcus. My dreams of having a moment with him had become a reality, but I didn’t remember a fucking thing. And what about Aramis? The last thing I remembered was organising to meet him after their set and deciding he was the better choice. Why was I in bed with Marcus?
I was so outside my comfort zone that I got out of bed and found my clothes as fast as I could. Marcus woke up and saw me just as I finished getting my panties and bra on. From the way his brow creased when our eyes met, I was about to get thrown away. Marcus had a reputation for turning cold after the fuck.
“Listen, about last night…” he started, looking down as if he was embarrassed. I didn’t want to hear the rejection, so I cut him off as I picked up my dress and my shoes.
“It was just sex, Marcus,” I told him. “I don’t want anything from you.”
His mouth sealed shut, his eyes studying me as I turned away and dropped my dress over my body, stuffing my feet into my shoes.
“See you around,” I threw over my shoulder as I walked out of the room without looking back. I felt cheap. Even though I’d gone to that party with the express purpose of doing what I did, I at least wanted to remember it.
Until I switched on my phone.
The damn thing blew up with messages and tags over photos on Twitter, showing me all over Aramis and Marcus with the caption ‘When one isn’t enough’. I burst into tears.
What a slut, more than one comment said. I’m not even repeating some of the others. They were beyond crass. I closed my Twitter account down.
I tried to call Aramis, needing to understand what happened between us all that night. But he didn’t answer, and he didn’t call me back. And why would he? He must’ve thought I was a total whore. Everybody else did.
After that, I moved on with my life, heading to Canberra for my music scholarship. I threw myself into my studies for a couple of years, eventually losing heart and dropping out before my course was even finished. Burnout, they call it.
That’s when I went to the UK for a break and some life experience. I started bar tending, telling myself it was just a holiday job, that I needed a break from music. But I’ve been back in Australia for over a year and I’m still working the bar. The urge to create music hasn’t sparked in that entire time. Until tonight….
“Come with us. Our attendance has been requested backstage,” Erica says next to my ear, snapping me back to the present.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” I say, shaking my head as I widen my eyes. “I don’t want to speak to Marcus again. I watched him play, and that’s enough for me.”
“Don’t be a dick. As if he even remembers,” Amy scoffs. “He’s probably had a thousand threesomes since then. Don’t think yourself special.”
“I don’t think I’m special. It’s just embarrassing when I don’t remember what happened.”
“You’re thinking too hard on this,” Erica says. “Just say hello, stroke his ego. No need to mention the sex.”
“Ladies,” a burly voice says from behind me. When I turn, I realise they’ve herded me towards the backstage entrance where a large Polynesian man in a black ‘security’ shirt is blocking our way. He takes a moment and lets a couple of giggling girls wearing ‘backstage pass’ lanyards through.
“Oh, damn. We don’t have a pass.” I deadpan my words and take a step back. Amy catches my arm with her surprisingly strong grip.
“Joe, my man,” she says, giving him a one-armed hug. “This here is Naomi. She went to high school with us all.”
“Naomi, huh?” He looks me up and down, nodding appreciatively. I feel like a piece of meat. “He knows she’s here?”
“He sure does. Make it very clear he wanted to see her.”
With a slight nod and a sweeping hand gesture, he steps aside and lets us through. Erica pauses to give him a hug and a kiss. "You’re the best,” she says and Joe chuckles.
Backstage is a series of narrow passageways, littered with various people who are drinking or smoking, or making out or tweaking. I hear music up ahead and hold on to a nervous breath while Erica tugs me along. It’s as if she’s worried that I’m going to get lost or refuse to follow. Although the latter is the most likely scenario. I’d rather be heading home than walking towards my worst memory.
Eventually, we make it to a room with the band’s name on a printed piece of paper taped to the door. There aren’t that many people in there, maybe a dozen tops. But the room is so small that we’re all squished against each other, and to top it off, the delightful scent of sweaty man is filling the air, causing me to scrunch up my nose a little. How glamorous.
“Naomi,” Marcus croons, positioning himself directly in my path. He’s dressed simply in a pair of jeans and a plain white t-shirt that stretches across his broad chest. While he was on stage, he also wore a black blazer, but he’s discarded that now and is looking casual while holding a bottle of beer.
“Marcus,” I nod. “Great show tonight.” And that’s all I’ve got. Because I’m conflicted as to whether I want him, or if I want to run away from him. It could go either way. He's even better looking than he was six years ago. I need to stop making decisions with my vagina.
“Thank you. I'm glad you came. It's been too long.” He talks like he didn’t fuck me while I was out of my mind at a party. Maybe he doesn’t remember. “I heard you got into ANU.” He looks at me expecting an answer all the way up there from his six-foot-three of height. Marcus is a giant compared to me. I’m only five foot four, so I rely heavily on heels to bring me a little closer to most people’s eye level.
“Yeah. Well. That didn’t really work out,” I say, looking around the room as I scratch a non-existent itch on the back of my head, thinking of a way to change the subject without being lame. “Um, that was quite a crowd out there. I didn’t realise you were doing so well.” A total lie. But he doesn’t need to know I cyber-stalk him on the regular.
“You didn’t realise?” He places his hand on his heart and scrunches up his handsome face in mock pain. “Oh, you injure me. You mean you haven’t been following my career?” His puppy brown eyes shine with mirth.
I can’t help but laugh, even though I’m still fidgeting awkwardly in front of him. I want to relax, to talk to him easily like I used to. But this is hard. Sex changes things. “Was I expected to?”
“Of course not.” He smiles, softening his voice. “But, I’m glad you liked the show.”
“I did. Very much,” I say, keeping my thoughts about how I think they’d benefit from some strings and female backing vocals to set them apart. I don’t want to sound like I’m trying to insert myself back into his world, and I also don’t want to tell him how to do his job. So I hold my opinion back and stare up at him, trying to think of something else to say. Unsuccessfully.
We stand there, just looking at each other. A grin pulls up at the corner of his mouth, and I wonder if he’s thinking about the last time he saw me. I squirm a little under his gaze, embarrassment heating my cheeks. It’s hard enough being polite to someone you’ve slept with before, but the fact that I have no recollection of it and he does, makes me feel unusually uncomfortable.
“I think we’re missing something,” he says once the staring becomes uncomfortable and I’m working out how fast I can get to the exit.
“What are we missing, Marcus?”
“Not you and me. The band.”
“Oh?”
“We need strings.”
“Ohhh.” I fidget with my hair before I shake my head. “No. I mean, yes. I think you could do with strings. And, uh… female backing vocals. But I don’t think it should be me.”
“Come on, Nomes. We were always so great together. And you know your stuff. You just said exactly what I’ve been thinking. You could help take us to the next level.”
“Uh-Ah. No. Nope. Not me.”
“Do you still play?” he asks.
“Nooo. Not in, like, two years now. The violin wasn’t working out that great for me anymore.”
“It always worked great for me,” he says, his voice low and intimate as he leans in closer.
My cheeks flame hot as I drop my face and move back slightly.
“Marcus,” another male voice interrupts. I look up and I’m met with a pair of eyes that are just as dark as Marcus’s are light. My heart beats faster at the intensity of his gaze. He takes my breath away. He’s a tiny bit shorter than Marcus but he has the same strong, lean build with dark brown hair that falls messily about his chiselled face. His brother, Theo. I know him from their Instagram feed. “Are you going to introduce me to your friend?”
Marcus’s brow creases slightly. “Seriously? You want an introduction?”
“I do,” he says, smiling in a way that doesn’t meet his eyes. Suddenly, I’m on guard as I get a sense of animosity toward me. Have I done somethi
ng?
Marcus rolls his eyes before making the introductions. “Theo, this is Naomi. You probably remember her from school. Naomi, this is Theo, my older brother. You should also remember him from school.”
“Hi,” I say, holding out my hand to shake his. I don’t remember him from school. I remember being told Marcus’s brother went there, but I don’t believe we’ve crossed paths until now.
“Can’t say I do remember her from school,” Theo notes, not bothering to take my hand.
Relief floods over me as my hand flies back to my chest. “Thank goodness, I was really worried because I can’t remember you either.” I smile, attempting to be friendly. “I mean, you look familiar. But I think that’s because you look like Marcus with darker features.”
One of his eyes narrows as he looks me over. “Actually, Marcus looks like me. I’m the oldest,” he says, looking away from me like he can’t be bothered with me anymore. I’m slightly taken aback by his attitude. What the hell is this guy’s deal?
“I invited Naomi to come and jam with us next week,” Marcus says, blocking his brother’s exit. “I think it’ll sound great—strings and female vocals.”
“Do whatever the fuck you want,” Theo grunts before he moves away from us and sparks up a conversation with someone else.
"I never agreed to it,” I call across the room. Not that it makes any difference since Theo isn’t listening. What an arse.
“Ignore him,” Marcus says. “He lost one of his drumsticks a while back, and I think it got lodged permanently up his arse. Makes him constantly cranky.” I can’t help but laugh at the image that flits through my mind. “There she is.” He smiles as he watches me giggle.
“There who is?”
Reaching out, he brushes his pinky finger lightly across my forehead, moving my hair back from my face. “The girl I used to know. I’ve missed her.”
My brow knits. “Really?” He was supposed to barely remember me.
Melody: Beautiful Series, book three Page 3
