“It’s nice to meet you,” Sophie said, offering him her hand.
“You’re the one, are you?” he asked in return. He gave her hand a brisk shake.
She wasn’t sure how to take that greeting. “Um, I guess?”
“We’ve got plenty of time to get acquainted. I hear Irvine is a bit of a drive.”
~
The headline read “Mystery Girl Rocks Rogue Singer on KROQ.” It was a short article on the inside pages of the Los Angeles Times’ entertainment section and detailed the phone conversation Gavin had had with Sophie, live on the radio the day before. The angle was that the call had generated so much interest that an informal campaign formed to discover who the “Sophie” girl was and whether she would give Gavin another chance. The article said the station had been inundated with calls asking for more information on what was behind the episode. The only official comment from the station was that they, too, hoped to learn the answer when Sophie showed up at the Weenie Roast.
Conor was the one to show Gavin and Sophie the newspaper. Gavin was bemused, Sophie was stunned, and Conor was barely able to contain his irritation.
“This isn’t what we’re about, this, this—”
“What?” Gavin asked with a lazy smile.
“‘Spectacle’ is the word I’m after,” Conor said. “James and I agree on this, you know.”
“That so, Jamie?” Gavin asked.
“It’s not exactly the focus we need,” James said. “We had some momentum going and this feels like a huge distraction. No offense, sweetheart.”
Sophie raised her chin and maintained eye contact with the band manager. “None taken, honey,” she replied and it got very quiet in the car.
Conor raised his eyebrows and Gavin grinned at the attitude she gave back to James.
“It’s really good to see you, Sophie,” Shay said, dispelling the tension. He had always been the peacemaker of the group.
Turning in her seat, Sophie smiled at Shay and returned the sentiment. Talk for the rest of the drive turned to more benign subjects. They fell into their old easy banter with one another as Sophie apologized to Martin for revealing the origin of the band’s name. He took it in stride and playfully made her promise with a kiss that she would never speak of it again. Even Conor loosened up and joined in, admitting that Martin had actually gotten off easy, as all anyone cared about was Gavin’s mysterious love story, not Martin’s moment of dumb luck in landing on the band name.
~
The Irvine Meadows Amphitheatre’s main stage capacity was 16,000, and in the searing heat it felt like the whole crowd was crammed into the backstage tents. For an area that was supposed to be exclusive, it was overrun with musicians, techies, PR people for the bands performing, PR people for the radio station, radio station personnel, catering crews, as well as the odd groupie who slipped through.
Rogue had done their sound check earlier in the afternoon and would be up on stage as the third to the last act for the evening, with just The White Stripes and Foo Fighters after them. It was a heady atmosphere with so many big names mingling.
Though Gavin and the others readily accepted both the free-flowing alcohol and marijuana going around, they declined the offers of harder substances. Sophie hoped that was due to more than the fact that they would be performing that day.
While Gavin was careful to keep Sophie with him as he chatted with the other artists, she shied away from engaging. It was an overwhelming but enlightening introduction to what had become his world. She loved how familiar he was with the other bands, using nicknames and easily slipping in and out of conversations with dozens of people. She also loved that nobody had anything but music on their minds. The intrigue of who she was had been lost on them.
Once they got word that Interpol was playing at one of the side stages, they braved the sun and the crush of the crowd, squeezing their way to the rail. When Conor saw that Sophie was using her hand as a shield against the bright afternoon light, he handed her his sunglasses.
“I want them back,” he said.
They were classic square shape black Oliver Spencer sunglasses with a distinctive red tip on one arm, and they were the most expensive pair he had ever owned. The band’s relative success had meant he could explore a higher-end style.
The look of the slightly oversized men’s sunglasses on Sophie would have a lasting impression as she was photographed all afternoon wearing them. Those, along with her messy bun, casual sundress, and jean jacket tied around her waist became a look girls emulated for the rest of that summer. Not necessarily because the style was fashion-forward, but rather because her natural beauty and happiness gave her an enviable radiance. That was what girls who didn’t even know her were drawn to, an idealized version of what they wanted to be themselves: perfectly in love.
The particular photo that conveyed this image showed Sophie and Gavin standing at the stage barrier between set changes. His arms were on either side of her, his hands on the rail as he leaned his body into hers. The posture was at once protective and possessive. She was turned slightly, looking back at him with her hand to his cheek and a positively smitten smile. The photograph of the couple was proof that their phone conversation had led to a reunion, and was also just the start of what would be a long history of being paparazzi favorites.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The first thing Sophie noticed when she got home was the stillness. Her parents were due back from their latest excursion sometime during the afternoon. The previous year, they had sold their tech company for a small fortune and relocated permanently to this Malibu beach house. They had a non-compete clause with the sale of their business and had been enjoying their forced relaxation time by travelling extensively—this time to Namibia. The solitude this gave her was exactly what she needed after the whirlwind of the last forty-eight hours. God, had it only been forty-eight hours?
She had nearly lost her voice screaming for Rogue during their performance at the Weenie Roast. The intense energy from the crowd heightened hers and she ended up having the time of her life.
The boys had performed aggressively, with crisp playing that popped in the electricity of the evening. Gavin was in good spirits and enjoying their set so much that it carried over to the audience. He was skilled at keeping a connection going with them, whether through guiding a call and response during their songs or with chatter between songs that went beyond the usual “thank you” most band leaders automatically employed.
“The sun’s gone down,” Gavin said at one point and the crowd cheered blindly, apparently agreeing that it had gone dark. “So, why the fuck is it still so hot?” He took off his black Oasis tee shirt and used it to wipe his face.
The screams at his show of skin were ear-piercing and Gavin laughed into the microphone. “You like what you see, yeah?” he asked playfully and was rewarded with more cheers. “Scream a little louder, maybe you’ll get Conor to strip down.”
Conor raised his eyebrows as he looked at Gavin disapprovingly. When the crowd began to shout “Conor! Conor! Conor!” he responded by beginning the next song, whether his bandmates were ready or not.
“Sorry, ladies and gents,” Gavin said. He held his arms open wide for a moment, striking a pose. “You’ll have to settle for this.” He threw his sweaty tee shirt down by Shay’s drum kit and found his timing with the song.
After the show, they had stayed on and watched the headliners. The first after-party took place at the venue and Sophie watched with increasing unease as Conor pursued—and was pursued by—various groupies. Seeing how comfortable he was with girls he just met, how quickly he progressed to pressing his body against theirs as he chatted them up, made her realize this is what Gavin had spent the last few years doing as well.
The party eventually moved back to the Chateau Marmont where a large group that included several young actors put on an impromptu ping pong tournament in the courtyard. The hotly competitive, obnoxiously drunk group was still going when Sophie suggest
ed she and Gavin leave at four in the morning. They spent the rest of the morning in bed together before James retrieved Gavin to prepare for an interview he and Conor would be doing with Rolling Stone Magazine. Sophie and Gavin agreed to meet later that afternoon at the CBS studios in Los Angeles for Rogue’s taping of a performance on the Craig Kilborn Late Show. The free time meant she could go home to Malibu to clean up and get a change of clothes.
Now, she kicked off her sandals, and padded across the gleaming hardwood floors of her parents’ house toward the marble and stainless steel kitchen. She pulled a sparkling water from the Subzero and took it with her through the wall of glass doors and out onto the deck.
The house was situated on the sand in exclusive Carbon Beach, an area that runs for about a mile and a half from the Malibu Pier toward Santa Monica. It was the least spectacular home in the wealthy enclave, but it was enviable nevertheless. Both of its stories had fourteen-foot ceilings and an abundance of windows to take advantage of the ocean views. Minimally, but comfortably furnished, the style inside had a classic and clean feel, with sheer cream curtains at the windows that flowed with the salt breeze.
At times like this when there was no one else home, Sophie liked to settle into one of the padded teak lounge chairs on the deck and let her mind drift. There was a thin layer of fog hugging the ocean, but the sun’s heat beat through it. She shaded her eyes against the glare with her hand, looking up and down the coastline, unsurprised to find the sand empty. Though all California beaches from the water line up to the high tide line are technically public land, the seventy-odd homeowners of this area had never been particularly inclined to provide access.
Sophie closed her eyes and let the sun warm her through. She was running on too little sleep, but it put her in a mellow, happy state rather than one of exhaustion. Being with Gavin these last two days was the happiest she had ever been, despite the fact that their time was running out. The band was scheduled to leave the day after next. They had five more music festivals, all scattered around the east coast. They then headed to New York City to attend MTV’s Video Music Awards show as nominees and performers. After that they were scheduled to get back home to Dublin to start work on their second album even though Gavin had confessed they didn’t have any material for it. The band had toured the hell out of their first album, expending all their energy on the performances. They might have kept playing gigs had their label not insisted they start to make efforts toward new music.
Gavin was still in a state of semi-disbelief about the band’s success and current position of being under the gun to make a new album. It was, he admitted, both thrilling and terrifying. What if the first album’s success had been a fluke? Sophie had assured him he was the real deal and watched as he nodded in agreement. He had been gratefully, willfully convinced.
They hadn’t discussed, however, any kind of future together. Sophie tried to steel herself against the inevitable heartache she would feel once he was gone from her life again. The conversation she had had with her friend Felicity back in their school days came to mind. Felicity had known with an old-soul’s confidence that this would be the typical scenario for anyone trying to date one of the boys from Rogue, and she had preemptively guarded against it. It had been smart, Sophie knew. But at the same time, she knew herself. She didn’t have that kind of strength and willpower when it came to matters of the heart. Especially not matters of the heart that involved Gavin.
As soon as he had hinted that she had walked away from him in much the same way as his own mother had, she had lost all self-control. From the moment she had her first real conversation with him back in school, she saw that a deep part of him was wounded. He did his best to hide the hurt with unwarranted confidence and a preternatural drive toward music. But he had opened the door of his hurt a sliver with her at first. Then, in his own way, he had thrown it wide open and essentially begged her to enter. He didn’t want her to know him, he needed it. Just like when he said on their radio-broadcasted phone call that he needed to see her like he needed oxygen. They had been that desperate for one another.
Sophie had filled a special role in his life during that time, one where she not only understood where and why he was hurt but also made allowances for him (that he didn’t always deserve) because of it. In return, he worshipped at her feet and fulfilled the unrealistic romantic visions of love instilled in her by the princess paradigm movies she had grown up with, including the illusion of having an unique power to heal her tragic true love. They had fallen right back into the same dynamic in the last couple of days, even as neither acknowledged it.
Beyond any dysfunctional elements, they were simply good together. Their love had been genuine and more mature than it should have been given their ages.
None of which mattered now, Sophie knew. She opened her eyes and the brightness of the sun brought a sting of tears. Gavin was soon moving on. To the next city. The next girl. Just as he had told her at the Palladium gig.
If this was to be the case, Sophie resolved to make the rest of their time as memorable as possible. She knew she would be feeding off the memories for years to come, after all.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Conor was so frustrated he could barely sit still. He and Gavin had been speaking with John Riley from Rolling Stone Magazine for close to an hour and nearly every question was focused on chipping away at the Sophie “mystery.” Conor had deferred to Gavin, but his friend had uncharacteristically ducked straight answers, which only seemed to pique the reporter’s interest all the more.
“And how old is she?” Riley asked, sending Conor to his feet, a plaintive look directed at James. “Is something wrong?” Riley turned his tape recorder off.
“No problem. Conor’s just the restless sort,” James said.
Conor reluctantly retook his seat but he threw his head back against the overstuffed chair in the living area of the Chateau Marmont’s penthouse suite. French doors opened onto a tan and brown striped awning that partially covered a balcony overlooking greater Los Angeles. The midday May sun combined with a layer of smog made the sprawling buildings appear to be a mere suggestion of a city as the edges went soft. Conor looked to the view, longing to escape out into it. This interview was a big deal, but it had detoured disastrously into the “love story” angle. And James was being too patient with letting Gavin skirt around the issue. As their manager, he should have stepped in to redirect the reporter to the point—the music. But he hadn’t stepped in, and instead had now just sent a signal that he wanted Conor to keep waiting things out as well.
They had all picked at room service lunches and then discarded the plates. The magazine had arranged for the suite and lunch, and even encouraged the guys to indulge in the minibar. They stuck to beer, knowing James would get testy if they had anything stronger.
Gavin picked up the small recording device and turned it over in his hands. “The thing is, JR,” he said familiarly, “Rogue is of the mind that the focus should be on the music. We all have personal lives, and playing up mine seems trivial and irrelevant when we figure our music offers actual substance. Now, you’re a journalist. I understand you have to ask the questions, but in order to get answers, you’ll have to tell me how the readers of a music magazine like yours will be served to know details about the girl I’m with.”
With that, Gavin put down the recorder and emptied his bottle of Stella Artois.
Riley eyed the young singer, biting on the end of his pen thoughtfully. From the start of this interview, he had been impressed by Gavin, finding him charming and bright. But despite having a reputation for being open with reporters, Gavin had held back until now, and he wondered how contrived this was.
“If that’s how you want to play it, fine,” Riley said. “But you have to admit, you’re playing naïve about the whole thing. This girl calling into the radio station—if it wasn’t a publicity stunt, well then it was brilliant luck.”
“It was not a stunt,” Gavin said adamantly.
<
br /> “Okay, I’ll take your word. But maybe you should hear a playback of the call, because what has sparked this intense interest, what got you and this girl in the LA Times and all over the internet, is the sound in your voice. The way I’d write about it is this: the desperation in your voice to connect with this girl was so strong, so naked, that you instantly won over every girl who has ever wanted to be wanted by a boy. So, yeah, Rogue is going to get more attention now than it ever has. It may not be precisely for the reasons you’d like, but it makes your band a household name.” Riley paused for effect. “That’s something hard to come by, and I’d argue that you take this story for all it’s worth because you do seem to be the real deal. You’ve got the music to back up the extra attention.”
“You’ll forgive me if I’m reluctant to whore myself out,” Gavin said, and Riley laughed.
“Fuck it, Gav,” Conor said. He was done waiting this out. If James wasn’t going to step in, he would. “Go ahead—tell the story, the whole bloody thing. It’s all going to come out anyway. At least this way, initially, we’ll have some control.”
Riley looked to Conor as he switched on his recorder. “Why don’t you tell me your version of the story, Conor?”
Conor looked at Gavin and when his friend didn’t object, he realized Gavin was purposely stepping back so that Conor could shape this the way he wanted. It was a concession he greatly appreciated.
“I’ll give you the quick and dirty version. It’s not all that complicated. Sophie came to Dublin when she was sixteen. We all met her in school. She was there for the school year. She and Gav fell in love. She had to go home. Hearts were broken. She finished school here, and we worked on our band. We came to America on tour, saw Sophie last September at our Palladium show, but then had to move on to the next gig. Next thing we know, we get a call at the radio station. The two are reunited and everyone’s happy. End of story.”
Tangled Up In You: A Rogue Series Novel Page 6
