by Paige Toon
He arrived last night – a tall, broad, good-looking man with shaggy dark hair and warm brown eyes. I liked him instantly, although he seemed a bit taken aback by me.
‘Jesus Christ, she looks like you,’ he exclaimed to Johnny. Meg smacked him on his bum and berated him for swearing.
‘I didn’t say the F-word,’ he says.
‘Shh!’ she warns, but it’s clear he’s only teasing her. It’s unbelievable, looking at the three of them, to think about what they went through. I can’t comprehend that they’re still friends considering their past and everything I know about Barney, yet here they are.
Christian pats the chair next to him so I go inside and sit down. I’m filled with a growing sense of excitement as I watch Johnny tune his guitar. He asks Christian to adjust a couple of dials, then bends down and picks up a long lead from somewhere, plugging it into his guitar. He starts to strum a slow, gentle tune: a lullaby. I’m rapt. How I wish I could play the guitar like that. And then he steps up to the mic and starts to sing, his deep, soulful voice filling the room and filling up my senses as I watch, transfixed.
It hits me again. That’s my dad, right there. That, there . . . That Johnny Jefferson, right there behind that glass, is my dad. MY dad. How can my life have taken such a turn?
I don’t know about Christian, but all of my hairs are standing on end. This song is full of emotion and it’s truly beautiful – a love song. The lyrics say something about a girl with a warm smile who became a teacher and her unconditional love for her subject, and then it hits me like a tonne of bricks that this is not a song about an actual teacher, it’s a song about Johnny’s mum. Maybe even my mum. Didn’t Meg say Christian’s mum died not so long ago, too? I look across at Christian and see that his eyes are shining. Mine immediately fog up and I struggle to hold myself together as I watch Johnny through the glass.
When he’s singing, his eyes are downcast, and when the instrumental kicks in, he steps back and looks down at his guitar, giving himself up to the music. When he plays out the final few chords, Christian and I furtively wipe away our tears. Christian gives Johnny the thumbs up. I know why. I’m too choked to speak, too.
‘You like it?’ Johnny asks him, looking a little lost, almost boylike.
‘Yeah.’ Christian says gruffly. ‘Yeah, I do.’
Johnny smiles sadly and starts to lift his guitar strap over his head, but he pauses, glancing back out at us. He presses his mouth to the mic. ‘Something more upbeat?’
Christian gives him the thumbs up again.
‘Yes!’ I nod eagerly.
And then he kicks off with a jaunty melody, an acoustic version of one of his more recent hit singles. I can’t help it – I start to sing along.
Johnny’s eyes dart up to meet mine and he grins as he sings, raising one eyebrow. Then he stops singing and playing suddenly and jerks his head backwards. ‘Get in here,’ he says.
‘What?’ I shake my head, confused.
‘Get in here and sing with me.’
‘Go on!’ Christian urges, shoving my chair. The wheels underneath my chair roll me about a foot closer to the studio door.
‘I . . . I can’t do that!’ I erupt, putting my feet down to stop the motion.
Johnny’s shoulders slump, but he’s not giving up. ‘Get. In. Here,’ he says firmly.
‘No!’
‘Jessie.’ Hmm, that’s a very no nonsense tone.
‘Forget it.’ I shake my head determinedly. ‘I don’t sing in public, remember?’
‘What about Thomas The Tank Engine?’ Johnny asks with amusement.
‘Eh?’ Christian chips in. We’ve lost him.
‘Come on,’ he beckons me inside again.
‘You’ll regret it if you don’t,’ Christian points out.
Something twinges inside me and I realise that he’s right. I will regret it if I don’t. And I don’t want to have any more regrets. Johnny waits patiently, staring at me with those very green eyes of his. Bugger it. I stand up and saunter into the studio, pursing my lips as Christian claps and cheers in a completely OTT manner.
Johnny grins at me and pulls another mic down from above our heads. He says something into the first mic to Christian. ‘You’ll have to press that . . . Blah, blah, blah . . .’ I don’t know what he’s talking about, but Christian seems to know what to do, as he twiddles some dials and knobs on the control desk in front of him. Johnny leans past me and says, ‘Testing, testing, testing,’ into the spare mic and then Christian’s voice comes into the room, sounding like he’s on speakerphone, and he tells us we’re good to go.
Johnny turns to look at me as he starts to play the same song. I grin down at his fingers strumming the guitar, truly wishing I could play too, and then the first verse kicks off and Johnny starts to sing. I know this song like the back of my hand – it’s one of his biggest hits – and I nod my head along for a bit, then step forward and start to add little bits of harmony to the occasional lyric. Johnny raises his eyebrows at Christian and I glance at him to see him looking impressed. When the chorus kicks in, I sing along to the whole thing, still doing the occasional harmony, and before I know it, we’re singing the rest of the song together.
Johnny strums the last note and throws his arm around my neck, pressing a kiss to my forehead while I blush furiously. Christian claps and cheers, but this time he’s being genuine – I can tell that he’s blown away – and I’m bursting with pride.
‘Isn’t she amazing?’ Johnny exclaims, looking out of the glass.
‘Properly un-bloody-believeable,’ Christian replies, shaking his head while I continue to blush. ‘Jessie Jefferson is a great stage name,’ Christian says and I laugh because I think he’s joking. ‘Seriously,’ he adds.
I glance at Johnny, who shrugs. ‘It’s got a good ring to it.’
‘No,’ I say shortly, my smile falling from my face. ‘My name is Jessie Pickerill.’
Christian leans back in his chair. ‘Johnny’s mother’s name was Sneeden, but he changed it to Jefferson.’
‘Leave it, Christian.’ Johnny cuts off his friend. He shakes his head quickly, abruptly, as he lifts his guitar strap over his head. ‘It’s too soon.’
‘It will always be too soon,’ I point out firmly, trying not to get upset. ‘My mother’s name was Pickerill.’ I’m not going to choose Johnny over her, like she feared.
‘You could be double-barrelled,’ Christian presses on, not realising how touchy I’m feeling.
‘Christian!’ Johnny snaps. ‘Let it go.’
Christian looks taken aback and I feel bad for him, but at least Johnny understands.
‘Sorry,’ Christian says a little defensively.
‘It’s OK,’ I brush him off, keen to change the subject. ‘Hey, what’s the time?’
He checks his watch. ‘Getting on for five o’clock.’
Is it too early? Nah. ‘I might go and get ready,’ I tell them.
‘Ready for what?’ Christian asks, as Johnny and I walk out of the studio.
‘She’s going to see a band tonight. You might’ve heard of them – All Hype? They’re Billy Mitchell’s kid’s band?’
Christian’s brow furrows, thinking. ‘They sound kind of familiar.’ I remember Johnny telling me Christian used to be a music journo. ‘Where are they playing?’ he asks me.
‘A place called The Rider, near Melrose Avenue.’
He nods. ‘That’s a good venue.’ He turns back to Johnny. ‘We should go?’
What? I don’t want my dad gatecrashing my date. Is it a date?
Johnny glances at me and scratches the stubble on his jaw.
‘Why don’t we?’ Christian presses.
‘And cramp Jessie’s style?’ Johnny asks with a grin.
Then again, Johnny turning up at Jack’s gig would be amazing press for his band . . .
‘You could come,’ I say with a shrug.
‘Great,’ Christian enthuses. ‘I love checking out new bands.’
‘Ar
en’t you jet-lagged?’ Johnny asks wryly. ‘You usually are,’ he adds.
‘We don’t have to have a late one,’ Christian replies. Pause. ‘Do we?’ He sounds slightly worried now.
‘I don’t do late ones any more,’ Johnny says cynically, then, ‘Sure, we can go if you want. I don’t know whether Nutmeg’ll fancy it.’
‘Shall I ask Jack to put aside a couple more tickets?’ I ask.
‘Nah, don’t trouble him. Annie’ll sort it.’
‘Cool!’ He is going to love me for this!
Chapter 24
Earlier this afternoon, Annie prompted me to send out a message to everyone in my contacts book, alerting them to my new mobile number. I don’t hear from anyone for hours, and I begin to think that none of them care about me, but then I remember the time difference and realise it’s the middle of the night in England. My first text comes through to me when I’m in the limo on the way to Jack’s gig. I pull my phone out of my purse and see that the message is from Natalie. I smile as I read it.
What the hell? You’ve gone to see your dad? Who the hell is he? I’m assuming he is NOT Johnny Jefferson ;-)
I giggle out loud and type out a reply, while Johnny and Christian ignore me. Christian is drinking a beer, while Johnny and I sip lemonades. I declined to have a glass of champagne after Christian told me how expensive Perrier Jouet actually is – over a hundred pounds a bottle! I nearly had a heart attack. Stu would be proud of the fact I’m not drinking. Meg opted not to come with us – she’s more of a pop girl, she said to my surprise and Johnny’s joke disgust.
Good to hear from you! Sorry I’ve been awol. I’ll call you tomorrow for a proper chat?
I feel a pang of homesickness for her. I miss her. I wish she were here. To my delight, she replies straight away. You’d better xxxxxxxx
We leave it at that. But I will tell her the truth tomorrow before the press release goes out, and if she still doesn’t believe me, she will soon.
While I have my phone out, I decide to send Jack a quick text, too.
Johnny & his friend, a music journo, are coming to your gig tonight with me. Good luck!
Seconds later another message comes in and it’s like my phone has given me an electric shock, the way I whip it back out of my purse. But it’s not from Jack. It’s from Tom. My heart jumps as I read it.
Hey you! In Ibiza. Have proper bad hangover. Been thinking of you a bit. Back next week if you want to do something?
I feel a bit dazed. I’ve been trying to put Tom out of my mind since I’ve met Jack, but now I see him in my head so clearly, crouching in front of me at Natalie’s party, after coming to find me when I bolted.
I stare down at the text. Tom’s been thinking of me. That makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside. I put my phone back into my bag, confusion muddling my brain.
There’s a line of people snaking out the front door of the venue when we arrive. Johnny directs Davey to take us around the back.
‘But my ticket will be at the front,’ I say worriedly to Johnny. ‘Shall I get out and queue?’
‘Nah.’ He shakes his head and gives me a weird look. ‘You’ll be alright.’
Hmm. I suppose I am with Johnny Jefferson.
There’s no one around the back, but then the black metal door bursts open and a blonde girl wearing a headset pokes her head out, spies the limo and grins. The door of the limo opens and I see Davey standing there, and behind him, Samuel and Lewis. Where did they come from? Did they come ahead to the venue? They must have done.
‘After you,’ Johnny says to me. I climb out on to the pavement and wait, flanked by Johnny’s security guards. Christian comes next, gently ushering me towards the door. I still half expect the girl with the headset to demand to see our tickets, but she doesn’t. I look back at Johnny.
‘Cheers, Bud,’ he says to Davey as he climbs out. And then the screams start. I don’t know where they come from, who the girls are or how they spotted us around this side of the venue – maybe they saw the limo drive past – but Christian presses me forward, and moments later, Johnny and Samuel are inside with us. I guess Lewis must be waiting outside for our exit later.
My head is spinning. ‘Is this what it’s always like?’ I say to Christian.
He looks at me like I’m bonkers. ‘That was nothing,’ he tells me.
The girl leads us down a corridor and then I feel Johnny’s hand on my back and I instantly feel calmer somehow.
‘Do you want to wait backstage?’ the girl asks over her shoulder.
‘Nah, let’s go and get a drink,’ Christian says, glancing at Johnny for agreement.
‘Cool.’ Johnny nods.
The music from the venue outside the corridor is muted, the bass a dull thumping, but we come to a door and when the blonde whooshes it open, the noise is deafening. The venue is crowded, the bar is packed and the stage is dark and empty. Samuel goes first, looking almost comical in his size and posture – but despite his penchant for silly jokes, he is not someone to be messed with.
We’re about a quarter of the way through the crowd on the dance floor, en route to the bar, when Johnny is noticed. At first it’s just shocked looks and excited nudges as the crowd parts in front of us, but like a ripple, the news spreads outwards and then the crowd swarms around us. Nobody screams, though – maybe that would be too uncool – but all eyes are on him. Eventually we reach the bar – Samuel goes first, clearing a space – and then the bartender appears miraculously.
‘What are you having?’ Johnny bends down and asks me in my ear.
‘Erm . . . Whiskey and Coke?’ I ask hopefully. I may have been good in the limo, but now that I’m inside I feel so jittery about meeting Jack that I kind of want a drink.
‘Try again,’ he says, deadpan.
I pull a face.
‘Let her have a beer,’ Christian suggests genially. ‘A light one?’
Johnny raises one eyebrow at me. ‘I’d prefer cider,’ I tell him with my best smile.
‘They won’t do cider here,’ Christian chips in. ‘Go on, get us a couple of beers, mate.’
Johnny shoots him an unimpressed look, then leans in and asks for two beers and a Coke. My shoulders slump, so I’m surprised when Christian gives me a cheeky thumbs up. Then a bottle of beer is in my hand and I realise Johnny is drinking the Coke. Result! I can’t believe I got served in here, actually. Definitely a perk of having Johnny around, I’d say.
‘Cheers!’ Christian says and we all chink bottles. That’s when I look around to see that there are dozens of sets of eyes staring straight at me. I jolt with shock. Whoa, this is so weird. They must be wondering who I am, why I’m here with Johnny Jefferson. I take a sip of my beer. It doesn’t taste too bad. Johnny asks Christian about someone called Sara – maybe that’s his girlfriend – but I tune out.
I wonder if Jack got my message? I feel a hand on my waist and spin around, coming face to face with the boy himself. Butterflies instantly take flight in my stomach and heat radiates from the place where he’s touching me.
‘Hi.’ He seems guarded as he looks past me to Johnny, but Christian is saying something into Johnny’s ear and he’s distracted.
‘You alright?’ I ask cautiously, then his eyes are on me and my heart flips. I’d almost forgotten how good-looking he is.
‘Yeah,’ he says uncertainly. ‘I just got your text.’
‘Thought I’d better warn you.’
‘Thanks.’ He smiles a small smile. ‘Catch you afterwards?’ He looks past me again.
‘Sure.’
He squeezes my waist and then turns around, making his way back through the crowd. My eyes follow him until he’s out of sight, then I turn around to see that I’ve finally got Johnny and Christian’s attention.
‘Who was that?’ Christian asks.
‘That,’ Johnny replies, giving him a significant look, ‘was Jack Mitchell.’
‘Aah,’ Christian says knowingly.
My face burns as I take another g
ulp of my drink. Johnny and Christian grin at each other. A man appears on the stage, setting up or doing something. Johnny pats Christian on the chest and nods towards the stage, indicating for us to go closer. We start to make our way through the crowd, but then a man stops Johnny and they backslap and greet each other enthusiastically. Johnny pulls him forward.
‘Christian, you know Billy?’ Johnny says, and he and Christian do a complicated handshake while my head spins. Jack’s dad?
‘And this is my daughter, Jessie,’ Johnny says. Billy’s eyes widen and he looks shell-shocked for a split second before regaining his senses. He leans forwards and shakes my hand the proper way.
‘Well, well, well,’ he says, looking back at Johnny. ‘I didn’t know you had a daughter?’
Johnny shrugs. ‘Neither did I,’ he says. ‘So, how’s life treating you?’
I can’t hear Billy’s reply, but I’m hardly paying attention anyway. Johnny has just told Jack’s dad that I’m his daughter. For the first time, it really hits me that the truth is about to come out. And my life really is going to change.
Billy stays with us to watch the band, and as the crowd around us start chanting and looking up at the stage, the atmosphere is charged.
I lean up into Johnny’s ear. ‘You just told him I’m your daughter!’ I exclaim.
‘Everyone’s going to know the day after tomorrow anyway,’ he replies with a shrug.
‘But I haven’t even told Jack!’
‘Tell him tonight.’
He so doesn’t realise what a big deal this is to me . . .
The girls in front of us start screaming and their reaction is contagious because more join in as the band take the stage, and then BAM! Jack and Brandon start pounding on their guitars in unison while Miles bashes the hell out of the drum kit behind them. Eve bounds on to the stage, wrenches the microphone out of the stand, and starts to sing the hell out of the venue. It’s amazing – they’re amazing – even more so than at Agnes’s party. This venue, this crowd, it’s unbelievable. I jump along and throw my hands up in the air, while Johnny, Christian and Billy coolly nod their heads along to the beat beside me. This just makes me giggle. Johnny raises one eyebrow at me, but I ignore him and carry on dancing.
