The Rock 'N' the Roll. 'N That

by Steven J. Gill

  Smiling at Jamie’s sacrifice, and slightly lost for words at the admission, Johnny said, “That’s dreadful. Kids can be so fucking hurtful,” adding positively, “But he looks great now, you can barely see the scars.”

  “It was tough. And the angrier he got the more anxious I became. Weird,” said Jamie. His words trailing off.

  “You’re both out the other side now though J.”

  “I know. That’s why he works with Mikee. He left school before his exams. Him and Mikee were tight as you like. The shit sort of stopped when he started hanging out with him. But he hated school. Fucking hated it!” Laughing at the recollection, “Some kids took it too far with Dom, so Mikee dangled one of them out a second storey classroom. Got expelled. Dom was suspended for tickling Mikee!”

  “I know I shouldn’t laugh,” said Johnny with a snort.

  “I know but imagine how he must have felt…” Jamie snapped out of the reflective mood. “Anyhow, let me grab another beer, and we can talk about our world domination!” Scooping up the empty glasses, he said, “Same again?”

  “Yeah, and grab a couple of chasers. Jack Daniels would be nice,” said Johnny, reaching for his wallet.

  Pushing the note away firmly, he said, “Nah, my shout man. You’ve done enough for us today.”

  Returning unscathed with the drinks, Jamie sat down and took the top off his pint. “So now you know. If people ask why, we just say we didn’t have the songs ready…”

  “Fine by me. And you know that if,” he corrected himself quickly, “When the band cracks it, Dom will be able to make up for lost time. Big style!”

  Nodding slowly, “I know. But he’ll always be a little insecure after taking so much shite for so long.” Looking down pensively, “So you really think we stand a chance then, Johnny? Y’know. Getting a deal and making records…”

  Knocking back the JD in one quick movement and clenching his teeth at the warm peaty burn, “You want me to be honest?” He met Jamie’s eyes. “You will and it’s going to be totally because of your songs. I’ve got no magic spell. I’ll do everything I can for you, y’know carry on investing time and money. But this all boils down to the tunes.” Leaving the sentence hanging, Johnny concluded, “This will be all about you boys. I just want to be on board for the ride.”

  Sipping thoughtfully at his own JD, Jamie said, “I know we can make it. I really fuckin’ do. And why wouldn’t you be along for the ride?”

  “Jamie, you looked fuckin’ great up there. When I met you at the bar that first time, and then saw you on stage, I just knew. You’ve got that thing, that…” Struggling to articulate himself, “Y’know, that rock ’n’ roll thing. And it’s your thing as well. You don’t look like you’re trying to be anyone else. That’s the trick. And fuck me. Do the girls love you!”

  Looking down modestly, Jamie smiled sheepishly. “It’s not about the girls though, is it. Not to me. It’s all about the songs. Other people loving our songs. That’s what I want. I want that so badly.”

  “You’ll get everything you want if this all goes to plan for you. Girls, money, fame, the lot…”

  Raising the shorts glass, Jamie laughed softly, “To the lot!” adding at a whisper, “and please never say a word about what I told you about Dom.”

  “Not a word,” said Johnny, clinking his glass against Jamie’s and knocking back the spirit in one.

  Closing his eyes momentarily and smiling warmly, Johnny put a hand behind Jamie’s head and pulled his forehead to his. “Thanks man. That means a lot. This is gonna get fuckin’ huge. I can feel it!” Releasing Jamie from the intimate grasp, he said, “One more for the road and then turn it in, I’m knackered, been a long day.”

  “Fine by me,” replied Jamie.

  “Any more and I’ll be pissing all night. You youngsters and your trusty bladders, I envy you!”

  “Right, I don’t need to know about your toilet habits!” Jamie laughed loudly, adding with alcohol fuelled sentimentality, “You’re a top bloke, Johnny. I’m glad we met you.”

  “Come on. You’ll have me filling up here.” Standing to leave the deserted bar, the two hugged and patted each other warmly on the back.

  Chapter 14

  The journey home had been quiet. Once the anecdotes had been spun and stretched to breaking point. Dominic had spent the entire journey surrounded by a post-coital halo of sexual satisfaction and proceeded to message said conquest for the entire journey North.

  Jamie and Johnny did small talk. Principally around the forthcoming studio time and which was the best Clash album. Jamie bucking convention and pitching for the sprawling three-album Sandinista. Johnny played it safe with London Calling. Both, however, agreed that the Pistols didn’t come close to The Clash.

  ***

  A pleasant Sunday afternoon would normally have found Claire sat in their small back garden attending to the prim and proper flower beds that required very little maintenance but took on Kew Gardens-like proportions if her exaggerations were to be believed.

  Upon opening the front door, he was met with the sight of her sat at the dining table feverishly reading a text heavy webpage.

  Glancing up briefly, she said, “Hiya babe. How was London? Did you get me a present?”

  Johnny had offered up the cover story that he was visiting a lifelong friend. An ex-pat Mancunian, now making hay in the capital. The constant subterfuge was starting to wear heavy as he’d always been very straight-bat with Claire.

  “Hello lady. I’ve only been gone a day! Does that merit a present?”

  “Of course!” Claire said with mock indignation.

  “I thought you’d be out in the sunsheeinee?” The Liam Gallagher over-pronunciation of this always seemed to make Claire smile. It’s the little things he thought.

  “Well,” she said, pulling her wicker chair round to face him, “I’ve been researching on the interweb and…”

  Putting his overnight bag at the foot of the stairs and unclipping his sunglasses from the collar of his T-shirt, Johnny put his hands on his hips, and said in a jokey manner, “Go on, how much is this latest essential purchase going to cost us. Designer egg cups? Replica Ming Dynasty serviette holders? Or are we finally getting a Bose docking station? Now we’re talking!”

  Matter of fact, Claire retorted, “Well, it will only cost if we decide to proceed with IVF after all the tests.”

  Breathing up heavily through his nose, he said, “Okay. I wasn’t quite expecting that today but…”

  “But nothing!” Claire interjected. “We’re always burying our heads in the sand about stuff, but not this. I want a baby.” Hastily adding, “I think we want a baby. We talked about this a good few weeks ago but as always, nothings been said since. We’re doing our ostriches and sand routine again.”

  Resistance was futile, and being too tired to muster any sort of an argument, Johnny agreed to go for “tests”. If anything deserved finger punctuation, it was that…

  “So, when…”

  Before he could finish, Claire gleefully informed him, “A week on Monday at the GP’s. I’ve booked us in at 5.30 so we won’t have to finish work too early. With Doctor Davison. She’s really nice.”

  Yup, she’ll be delightful when she’s talking about my spunk and asking me to crack one off into a specimen tub, he thought.

  Wisely, he kept this pearl of wisdom to himself.

  Resigned to what was now a fait-accompli, he said, “That sounds like that’s all settled then?”

  “Oh, thanks Johnny. I knew you’d be pleased!”

  Glancing down, Johnny’s loins stirred slightly. Claire was wearing a very tight fitting sleeveless vest bearing the logo ‘Yoga Bends the Mind’. She had clearly not been out at all that day, as she had omitted to put a bra on. Her nipples protruded exquisitely either side of the embroidered capital letters. Now that part of making a baby I like, he thought. Wondering if there was a complete absence of underwear, he decided an advance was very much in order.

  S
tepping over to her, he reached out and gently squeezed her right nipple. “You look fit in that top. Want to step upstairs with me?”

  “Johnny! You always pick the worst moments! It’s my time this weekend!” Rubbing his arm affectionately, she said, “And besides Michelle is coming around with some plants for the garden.”

  “Sorry, sorry. Fancy a drink? I’d love a Magners. Any in the fridge?” Reaching inside the fridge’s cavernous insides, he grabbed a pear flavoured cider and a pint glass. “Am I alright to sit in the Hanging Gardens of Manchester? Eighth Wonder of the World and all that.” Blowing a friendly kiss at Claire, he grabbed the Observer off the kitchen top and retreated to the garden.

  ***

  “Hiya mum, how are you? You have a nice night out with Auntie Jo?” Returning home, the twins always made a fuss out of her, knowing how much she missed their company.

  “Hiya boys! Tell me about the gig!” Drying her hands on a tea towel, Cally turned the kitchen stereo down, taking Fleetwood Mac’s ‘You Make Loving Fun’ down to a background whisper.

  “I had a lovely time with Jo. She’d hate it if she knew you still called her Auntie Jo though!” Sitting on the arm of the faded navy-blue sofa, she reached for Jamie’s hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze. “I want to hear all about you.” Looking over towards Dom, who was still engrossed in his epic textual exchange, “You look shattered Dominic. Was the hotel not that great? I hate sleeping somewhere new. That first night. I never sleep a wink!”

  Oblivious to the parental concern, Dominic muttered a distracted, “Hiya Mum. Yeah. Love you too…”

  Jamie laughed softly. “He’s fine just a bit smitten, aren’t you bro?”

  Taking on a mock-scolding voice, she said, “Dominic! You haven’t been with a girl, have you?” She wagged her finger. “You bad boy!”

  Cally was inwardly delighted that he had been the subject of some attentive female’s affections, having shared his pain during the torturous, acne ridden, adolescent years.

  Finally dragging himself from his almost charge free phone, he said, “C’mon, you don’t need to know these things.” Shooting a half-hearted dagger look at Jamie, “Does she, Jamie?”

  Heading in the direction of the stairs, Dominic said, “Anyhow, J. At least I stayed out to party. Mr Sensible here going back to the hotel with Johnny.” Yawning loudly, “I’m going to have a shower then grab some kip.” Yawning even more loudly, “And I’m meeting Danny for a pint later. If you fancy it. Or are you going to have another early night?”

  Before Jamie had the chance to reply, his brother was already at the top of the stairs, the ping of his phone indicating yet another amorous missive had been received.

  Frowning slightly and pushing a length of hair behind her ear, Cally said, “How come you didn’t stay out with the boys? Was everything okay?”

  “It was cool. I was absolutely fine.” Sitting on the sofa and looking up to his mum, “Johnny was heading back to the hotel and the gig was so brilliant, I just wanted some peace and quiet to talk about it. And he’d been sound with us all day, I didn’t want him sat on his own at the hotel. He said he didn’t want to cramp our style after the gig.”

  “Aww, that’s really sweet of you. You’re a good boy.” Reaching across, she placed her hand on his cheek, running a finger tenderly across his perfect cheekbone. “You seem to really like Johnny. He seems nice.”

  Placing his own hand on his mum’s, “He is. He wants this as much as us. You should have seen him after the gig. He was absolutely buzzing.”

  Smiling her perfect smile, she said, “Do you want a cold drink? You must be thirsty after that long journey. I’ll fetch us a juice and you can tell me about the gig.”

  A shout from upstairs startled them both. “GET IN!” Dom shouted excitedly. “Just had a text off Danny, we’re on YouTube! Somebody recorded a couple of tracks and put them up. How fuckin’ cool is that. I’m coming down. Get your laptop on!”

  “Language!” Cally admonished half-heartedly. Returning with three tall glasses of fresh orange juice, she said, “Put my laptop on the table, and we’ll have a look!”

  Powering the laptop on, Jamie gulped back half his drink.

  Typing into the browser, Jamie soon found the page. Beaming at Dom, who was stood beside them with a bath towel wrapped around his waist, he said, “How sick is this!?! And it was done by somebody we don’t even know…”

  The clip was far from perfect. Entirely what you would have expected from mobile phone footage. The sound was interspersed with shouts and snatches of muffled conversation. The picture focussed solely on Jamie, and ‘Pollypants1992’ seemed to be quite the fan judging by the “HE’S SOOOOOOOOOOO LUSH” comment that was typed underneath the gig footage.

  Smiling, he was slightly embarrassed as his mum gave him a friendly nudge with her elbow. The footage was good and seeing themselves play live for the first time gave the brothers a huge rush of pride.

  “Where am I then?” Dom asked peevishly.

  Putting her arm round his naked shoulders, she said, “Oh don’t worry luv, it’s only off a camera phone, you can’t see everything.”

  Staring raptly at the computer screen, Jamie felt as out-of-body a feeling as he had ever experienced.

  It was him.

  On stage. Doing what he loved. Being watched – and recorded – by other people. Loving the way his thrifty charity shop purchase looked. The red scarf setting off the whole image. The background chatter in the crowd seemed to drop just as Dom’s guitar solo on ‘Salvation’ kicked in. It had sounded brilliant to Jamie at the time but hearing his brother’s chiming guitar take over the crowd was amazing. He rubbed at the back of his neck as he felt the hairs stand up.

  It was note perfect, with Dom wringing out every chord to perfection. Turning to look at his twin, he saw Dom was now stood in a fists-together boxer’s stance, nodding his head to himself.

  “How good does that sound? My guitar sounded wicked. Play it again bro!”

  Clapping her hands with delighted abandon, and pulling both boys into her sides, she said, “Oh my boys, my beautiful boys. They’re going to be famous!”

  Kissing her softly on the top of her head, Jamie said, “Not just yet Mum, not just yet…”

  Mirroring his brother’s action, but adding with a determined assuredness, “But we will be. We definitely will be.”

  Looking at her boys, Cally knew at that moment that they truly would be…

  ***

  Danny ambled up his road – ignoring the local kids who were playing kerbie with a knackered leather football – and sat down on a low, crumbling garden wall. Sparking up the last of his cigarettes, he inhaled deeply. Propping his feet up on his guitar case, he lifted his sunglasses slightly and rubbed at the still throbbing bruise on his left eyebrow. The lads appeared to buy his story of having cracked his eye when his guitar fell forward whilst he had been re-stringing it. Sucking on the cigarette deeply, Danny smiled to himself at the events of the past 24 hours. He’d never felt so alive as when he was on that stage. And chatting to girls – and well-wishing lads – had been such a buzz. Back slaps and hugs from total strangers. The most amazing of feelings to someone perennially starved of affection. The drudgery of home and unemployed life just washed away. This was what he wanted for himself. This could change everything. This has to happen. It fuckin’ has to, he thought

  Snapping from his nicotine fuelled reverie, he looked up at the little herbert who was now stood in front of him, rolling the football dextrously between his insteps. “’Ere y’ar. Have youse got a spare ciggy for us mate?”

  Looking up at the diminutive would be 20 a dayer, Danny laughed, “I haven’t. That was me last one. Anyhow. It’ll stunt your growth, shorty.”

  “Well fuck off then yer tight twat. S’pose smoking give you a big nose as well?”

  Skipping back a few yards before adding the finishing flourish. “’Cos you must have been on 50 a day for years!” Hearing his fellow herbert
s laugh at his bravado, he added his coup de grace, “and what have you got in that box? A spare nose!”

  “Cheeky little cunts,” Danny whispered under his breath. Nothing was going to spoil his day. Not even returning home to face his dad’s scathing comments, or worse, his loose fists.

  The night before the gig, Dan had been practising in his bedroom, polishing and restringing his guitar – this much of his cover story was true. He had been rehearsing his basslines listening back through a pair of oversized headphones. The resultant muffled throb could still be heard downstairs.

  His mother had paid no heed to the sonorous rumble. Although when his dad had returned from his nightly visit to the Feathers – a bellyful of beer and spite – it had not been long before there had been a loud knock on his bedroom door.

  “Shut that fuckin’ noise up you little shite.” Beating on the door. Growing angrier with each chord.

  Losing patience at the lack of a subservient response, the door was then thrown open, startling Danny, who had been oblivious to his drunken father’s hammering and cursing.

  Ripping the headphones from Danny’s head and throwing them against the bedroom wall, “SHUT THAT FUCKIN’ RACKET UP!” his dad snarled.

  Jumping to his feet, Danny rubbed at his ear which had been caught in the headphone cable as they were torn from him. “OW! FUCK THAT HURT! WHAT WAS THAT FOR?”

  Staring at his son with rheumy eyes, flashed with booze broken blood vessels. “What was that for? To try and get you to shut the fuck up. I can’t hear the tele over your constant din. Fuckin’ waste of fuckin’ time. Ya should put the same effort into getting a fuckin’ job, ya lazy wee cunt!”

  Here we go, thought Dan. The usual tirade of insults. The mental bullying. The bitterness that had engulfed his father over the past decade spewing forth. With any luck, he’d blow himself out once he agreed to put his guitar away.

  “What’s the special occasion? Yer mam says you’ve been up here all night. Aren’t you usually out glue sniffing or whatever it is you young knobheads do these days…’