The Rock 'N' the Roll. 'N That

by Steven J. Gill

  ***

  The label had organised a launch party that evening and the band were travelling first-class to London. An empty carriage and plenty of time to have a pre-party booze.

  And in Dominic’s case, a ‘bunk-up’ in the toilets.

  A foray into Snapchat bought about the tawdriest of sexual liaisons. Having established with a female admirer – josie1993 – also travelling on the same down bound train. Resulting in him having a not entirely fulfilling ‘jump’ in the intimate surroundings of the first-class carriages’ toilets.

  Apparently, she did wash her hands after the sexual encounter. “She can’t be all that bad, right?” Dominic had protested.

  “The power of social media,” Johnny said. “Could you just not have had a wank before you left your flat?” He shook his head in both bemusement and at the disposability of it all.

  ***

  A boat on the Thames had been hired for the occasion with the band due to play a short PA. Johnny hadn’t told them yet, but the idea was that there would be a flotilla set up opposite the boat, and the band would play ‘London Calling’-style – he was praying for rain to complete the loving tribute in its entirety.

  As well as the mounting excitement that the album launch was generating within the band, Jamie and Johnny were awaiting confirmation that their female admirers would be in attendance.

  Having resisted the temptation to purchase any blue ‘wood’-inducing lozenges, Johnny was a mess of nerves as he tried to focus on any expectations that might be put upon him that evening.

  Jamie had asked Lara to attend the launch party, stating that he didn’t care who saw them together. Lara had responded that she was already ‘on the list’ and promised ‘not to embarrass him provided he didn’t get caught staring at her ass again…’

  “Tonight will be brilliant. Record company have lined it all up. You lot are in for a right treat,” said Johnny, his own excitement growing as the London weather forecast was looking decidedly downcast…

  ***

  The launch party was being orchestrated with cloak and dagger precision. Guests were to board a flotilla style launch near Putney Bridge at 8pm. This would then head back up river to Central London, stopping in front of the boat that Lonely Souls would be set up on – giving the invited guests and liggers a brilliant view of the band as they pulled off their ‘London Calling’-style tribute. It was fucking genius, Johnny had mused to himself, secretly gutted that it had not been his idea.

  As darkness descended, the band opened their four-song set, and as if on cue, the grey clouds that had been jostling for position started a gentle but definite downpour.

  The timing of both the downpour and the flotilla arriving were perfect. The band were lined up in the classic bass/guitar/lead guitar with three mic stands – Mikee tucked just behind them on a raised platform. The penny had dropped not long before they started playing and all three ‘guitarists’ had clicked into full-on Clash mode – Jamie styled his red scarf into a ‘Strummer bandana look’. Dan dropped his bass a notch and struck his best gunslinger poses. Dominic, borrowing Jamie’s black leather trench coat, threw guitar hero poses. When the chorus for ‘Salvation’ kicked in for the first time, the three of them all leant into their mics, giving it the full-on rock star routine.

  The brillo grey night sky and the synchronised downpour all added up to the most perfect of rock ’n’ roll recreations. Aboard the floating venue, the rain sodden and booze sozzled crowd were lapping it up.

  Johnny stood – a massive grin etched across his face – watching his charges announce their arrival on the flatlining UK music scene. Standing with Amanda nestled into his side, the sight of the band and the warmth from Amanda gave him a surge through his loins. Not just yet, he thought to himself. Not just yet…

  Squeezing Amanda slightly harder than he had intended, he shouted to be heard above the beautifully faithful rendering, “I FUCKIN’ LOVE THIS SET OF BEAUTIFUL BASTARDS!”

  Wiping a tear from his eye, Johnny had just about managed to restrain himself from jumping up and down on the spot and punching the air. It had been orchestrated to absolute perfection. With the short set finished, a walkway was slung across to the flotilla and the clearly exhilarated crowd made their way across to join the band. As they stepped onto the boat, they were handed a bag containing the album, a promo T-shirt and a blood red scarf – a collector’s-item not just to be put onto eBay, as Johnny insisted on telling anybody that would listen.

  ***

  Finding a quiet, sheltered corner, Jamie chinked the neck of his bottle against Lara’s. “Looked wicked didn’t it?”

  “Now Jamie Thorne, we wouldn’t want you getting a big head, would we?” said Lara, her dark glasses still on despite the distinct lack of daylight.

  “I’m glad you’re here and you saw that. Brilliant idea, wasn’t it? D’yer see all the people watching from the embankment?”

  “I’m just glad I didn’t get seasick. That boat was seriously rocking by the end!”

  Jamie looked at Lara, again perfection personified. Dressed in a ridiculously towering pair of spiked heel boots, black leggings and a fitted black leather biker jacket, rock chick was like a second skin to her.

  “You ready to go on to the aftershow? There are cars waiting for us,” said Jamie, giving a slight shiver as the cold of the evening descended.

  “We are brave, aren’t we? And remember. Don’t look at my ass when the paps are there. Don’t make it too easy for them, huh.”

  “I’ll tell the others, and we’ll make a move,” said Jamie, glad at the thought of some warmth.

  “Have you calmed down yet then, Mr Manager?” said Amanda, who was now regretting wearing the thin red mac, which was offering little protection against the cold air rolling off the river.

  “Ha! How good were they? I hope that there’s a decent recording of it. It’ll look great on the website,” said Johnny, pulling his grey peacoat around him.

  “Always business with you, isn’t it? Suzzie told me you are very focussed.”

  Laughing softly to himself, Johnny said, “Oh, we’ve been talking, have we? Thought my ears were burning.” He was quite flattered by this development.

  “No harm in doing a little homework. You came out with reasonably glowing colours,” said Amanda, that almost teasing quality in her voice again. “Suzzie said you work hard on the band’s behalf.”

  Johnny cocked his head to one side and nodded in appreciation of the comment.

  “I do hope that you’re not all work and no play, though, Mr Harrison…”

  Attempting his most sincere face, he said, “Oh I think I can make an exception. Just for tonight mind.”

  “Why thank you. I’m deeply honoured,” said Amanda, smiling up at him.

  Pulling her into him, Johnny hugged Amanda, partially against the cold, but principally to allow himself to kiss her on the forehead.

  Tracing a finger down Johnny’s nose, she said, “Well, thank you Johnny. That’s a start…”

  ***

  “This place is amazing,” said Jamie as he drank in the luxurious surroundings of Lara’s Victorian Primrose Hill apartment. A sizeable balcony with breath-taking views over London was immaculate in every detail. Her ‘boho’ taste was wonderfully understated, but it was perfectly apparent that nothing had happened in the apartment by accident.

  “What were you expecting? Dreamcatchers and totem poles?” asked Lara - her arms folded defensively.

  Jamie looked at the pictures adorning the walls – some of which depicted Native American images.

  “They’re my ancestors,” Lara said proudly. “My father’s side of the family are Navajo descendants.”

  Pretending that this was ‘news’ to him and hadn’t been previously unearthed with a quick Google search, he said, “The pictures are fascinating. You’re obviously proud of your heritage,” hurriedly adding, “Rightly so!”

  “Go ahead and fix some drinks from the kitchen. There’s plenty
in the fridge. Bottle of wine open on the table I think.”

  “I’d prefer a beer.”

  “Just a beer it is then,” said Lara, “I’m just going to get changed.”

  Jamie walked into the kitchen, taking in every detail of the apartment. He had never been anywhere like this. He ran his hand across the thick wooden farmhouse style table, then trailed it over the cold to the touch granite work surfaces.

  Opening the vast refrigerator, Jamie picked out two cold bottles of Michelob, popping them open before looking around for a bin to dispose of the bottle tops. Thinking better of opening all the cupboard doors, he pocketed them both.

  As he turned to go back into the large living room, he heard the bedroom door close. Lara was stood in front of him, completely naked aside from a red scarf tied loosely round her neck.

  “Hello Jamie Thorne.”

  Jamie looked at her, scanning every curve. Every single perfect detail. The dark chestnut colour of her nipples, the red scarf falling between her sumptuous breasts. The slash of jet black hair above her vagina. The muscle tone of her legs and stomach. The small surgeon’s cut to the side of her right knee.

  It was all he could do to remain silent and wide-eyed. Putting the bottles down, he stepped towards her and put his arms around her.

  She recoiled slightly. “OW! You have cold hands,” said Lara, laughing.

  Pulling his T-shirt over his head, Jamie wrapped it over his hands and again pulled Lara to him, her taut body moulding into his.

  “Better?” asked Jamie, before kissing her longingly.

  “Much,” said Lara, leading him by the hand to her bedroom…

  ***

  As they bundled into a waiting black cab, Johnny went to speak. “Look, about last ti—”

  She put a finger to her lips. “Shhhh. Don’t,” said Amanda as she cuddled into Johnny’s side. “Hmmm, you smell nice. Let me guess?” Sniffing Johnny’s neck and giving a playful nibble at the same time, she said, “I know! What do I get if I’m right?”

  “Just a sec. Sorry mate. The Montcalm, on err, on Great Cumberland Place.” Turning back to Amanda, he kissed her softly on her cold cheek.

  As they sat wrapped into each other watching London’s nightlife pass them by, Johnny felt his phone buzz. Glancing down, he saw that it was a call from Cally.

  Fuck. I can’t answer this now, he winced to himself. Get to the hotel, and hopefully she’ll have left a voicemail. Any big deal and he would call her back.

  “I thought you said you were off the clock now,” said Amanda, a definite ring of curiosity in her voice.

  They just fuckin’ know, Johnny’s inner narrative grumbled to itself. How the fuck do they just know…

  “Err, one of the lads. I’ll call them back when we’re at the hotel,” he replied unconvincingly.

  Arriving outside London’s latest must stay hotel, Johnny paid the driver and they stepped out onto the pavement. “Very nice, Mr Manager. Were you expecting company?”

  “Travelodge was all booked up,” he deadpanned.

  Having collected his room key, they took the air-conditioned lift to his fourth-floor suite. Amanda held his hand tightly, whilst Johnny got his bedroom ‘gamehead’ on.

  Surreptitiously glancing down, he saw that he had a message. Strolling casually over to the window, he listened carefully to Cally’s whispered message. Struggling to make out exactly what she was saying, Johnny established that she had been drinking.

  ‘Johnny? Is that you? I’m sorry to call but I just wanted to hear a friendly voice. I went out on a date tonight. A sort of blind date. Jo fixed it up for me. You’ve met her remember. Anyhow, it was dreadful. All he wanted to talk about was the boys and the band. He wouldn’t shut up about them. I walked out of the bar and left him. Oh Johnny, it was horrible. He just wasn’t interested in me at all. Anyhow. Call me if you can, but don’t worry if you can’t. I hope tonight was great.’

  His stomach flipped slightly, knowing that there was no way he could make the call. He turned the phone off with a grimace to himself.

  “Err. I was right. Danny couldn’t remember the name of their hotel. I’ve booked them in the other side of town,” he lied.

  “Well if you could finally stop working, I have something for you.” Amanda had taken off her red coat, which was slung across the bed, had removed her fitted T-shirt, and was in the process of unclasping her bra.

  “Ah. Let me,” said Johnny, striding over to her and deftly removing the bra with practised ease.

  “Well Mr Manager. You’ve done that before…”

  ***

  Waking the next morning, Jamie rose on to his elbows, feeling a cold draught snaking through the luxurious apartment. Craning his neck round the door, he could just make out Lara, sat on the balcony, a huge patchwork quilt wrapped around her, sunglasses on and smoking her first Marlboro (Red) of the day.

  Grabbing his discarded boxer shorts and a bath towel that was neatly arranged on the top of a large antique looking wooden dresser at the foot of the bed, Jamie wrapped the towel around his bare shoulders and went to join Lara. The cold early autumn air leaving a faint dew across the neighbouring rooftops. Leaning over the balcony’s wrought iron balustrade, he ran a finger down her cheek, slowly pulling the cigarette from between her lips.

  “Perfect timing, Jamie Thorne. That’s tomorrow’s tabloid pictures taken care of,” said Lara, as she exhaled a thin trail of smoke.

  Glancing down at the pavement below, Jamie saw two long-lens cameras trained on the balcony. His presence had snapped the photographers out of their early morning inertia.

  “Fuck ’em,” whistled Jamie. “I don’t care.”

  Returning inside the apartment in a swish of intricate patchwork and brown thigh, she said, “Oh you’ll learn, Jamie Thorne. You’ll learn.”

  Shaking his head slightly and with a small wave to the paps below, Jamie followed Lara inside. Having stepped out of the quilt, leaving it in a pile on the middle of the living room floor, Lara was now climbing back into bed.

  That arse, Jamie thought lewdly to himself, before pulling back the covers and joining her.

  ***

  The hotel room was shrouded in darkness as Johnny rose to pad across the room to the toilet, the cold marble floor feeling pleasant underfoot.

  Catching his reflection in the mirror, he sucked his stomach in slightly, and then nodded at himself almost in self-congratulation at his performance. Relieved didn’t come close. He had almost raised an arm in centre-forward like celebration as the blood had surged to his cock.

  No good managing some hot young rock ’n’ roll band if you can’t get hard, he’d drilled into himself as way of a self-administered pep talk. Rubbing a hand across his light stubble, he scratched slightly at a white fleck of Amanda’s sex that had dried on his cheek. He must have come close to breaking his personal best for oral-sex endurance. Amanda best not forget to tell Suzzie that when they conducted their next little girly chat.

  Returning to bed and expecting to see Amanda’s naked form, hoping to resume last night’s exertions, he was dismayed to discover that the bed was empty aside from a small note scribbled on some hotel stationery.

  ‘Morning Mr Manager. Sorry I had to leave. Early start at work. I should have said. Thank you for a lovely and MOST satisfying evening. A x P.S don’t be a stranger…’

  Sitting down on the edge of the bed, the residue of last night’s sex wafting underneath his nostrils, Johnny re-read the short note and smiled. Reaching across the nightstand to turn his phone on, he then remembered Cally’s message…

  ***

  “You’ll have to go. Now,” said Danny, his guilt already starting to manifest itself as he itched to pick his phone up and hear Dee’s reassuring tones. “Look, I had a good night, but there’s twenty quid for a cab,” he said, scrambling through his wallet and breathing a sigh of relief when he pulled out two rolled up ten-pound notes.

  “Don’t be like that,” said the nameless naked
form that was attempting to rub up alongside him.

  He reacted by leaping out of bed and pulling on his jeans and a screwed-up T-shirt that he had tossed on to the hotel floor in the height of their passion the previous evening. Unnamed naked female then sat up in bed letting the Egyptian cotton bed sheet fall away, revealing a not-unspectacular pair of what could well have been surgically enhanced breasts.

  At the sight of said breasts, Danny had a sudden flashback. He and Mikee had been wagering each other shots as to which of the attendant girls had natural breasts or were wearing underwear. All very classy stuff…

  This particular female had cost Danny a slammed double tequila as she was both silicone enhanced and not wearing underwear. “But she looked like a nice girl,” he had protested as Mikee had poured his forfeit.

  “You weren’t shy last night,” said unnamed naked in a screeching high-pitched cockney accent.

  Visibly wincing, Danny, never good under pressure, started to hurriedly gather up her clothing and possessions.

  “’Ere, you’re not throwing me out without letting me have a shower. I’m not that sort of girl.” She attempted a coquettish wink, but this was lost on Danny as he busied himself trying to locate her other peep-toe suede boot.

  “Yeah, yeah. You’re a lovely girl, err…” then realising he couldn’t remember her name, “err, gorgeous.”

  “Ah, you’re a sweetheart ain’t ya? Be good if you could remember my name…”

  Freezing as his mobile phone pinged the arrival of a text message, he finally located the rogue shoe underneath the duvet which was piled on the floor at the foot of the king-size bed.

  “Here’s your stuff. Look, I’m late already. I’ve got to be somewhere half an hour ago. Err, somewhere really important!”

  “Right, right. I get your hint. I’m going. But you shouldn’t treat nice girls like this.”