Impossible Depths (Silver Lake series Book 2)

by McCallum, Coral

  “Well, I couldn’t have you staying in a hotel,” laughed Lori. “It’s nice to have a full house.”

  “What’s the plan for tomorrow?” asked Grey, pouring himself another glass of red wine. “Did I hear Maddison mention lunch?”

  Jake nodded. “Not a business thing. Just us. Not sure where though. She never told me that bit.”

  “Count me out for lunch,” stated Rich, laying his knife and fork down. “I’m staying here all day. I plan on doing nothing until Linsey gets here at night.”

  “How are you feeling now?” asked Jake, conscious that his friend had barely touched his meal.

  “Not as bad as I felt on the plane,” Rich confessed. “But I’ve felt better.”

  “Do you need me to call a doctor?” offered Lori, concerned at how out of sorts the guitarist seemed.

  “I’ll be fine after a good night’s sleep, Lori,” he promised, forcing a smile. “But thanks for the concern.”

  “Well, if you need anything, just ask.”

  “Thanks,” he said as he got up from the table. “I’m going to bed. Keep this party down to a riot and I’ll see you all in the morning.”

  “Night, Rich,” called Jake as they watched him head off down to the bedroom.

  Once the dinner dishes had all been cleared away, the rest of them gathered in the lounge to watch TV. Grey had scoured the channels in search of a football game. While the three guys settled to watch the game, Lori fetched two large bowls of potato chips, then curled up on the chair with her sketchpad. She still had a jewellery collection to come up with before Christmas, so while the guys yelled at the football, she focussed on designing some earrings. Soon she was engrossed in a modern geometric design and was totally oblivious to the chaos around her.

  In front of her, the design took shape and, satisfied with the pattern, Lori began to work it into a pendant design too. Working on the intricate design felt like therapy after her hectic day. After she had been sitting still for almost two hours, she was aware of a nagging ache spreading through her thigh. Despite her best efforts to ignore it, she knew she would have to surrender and take some more painkillers.

  “Guys,” she said, getting slowly to her feet, “I’m calling it a day. I’ll see you all in the morning. Whoever is up first is in charge of making the coffee.”

  “Night, Lori,” said Jethro, blowing her a playful kiss.

  “I’ll be down when the game’s done,” promised Jake, reaching to take her hand. He noticed the lines of pain etched into her face. “You ok, li’l lady?”

  “Just sore and tired,” she whispered, kissing his hand. “I’ll take something for it when I get downstairs.”

  Jake nodded and watched as she limped heavily out of the lounge, paused to pick up her cane in the hallway then disappeared from his sight towards the stairs. Nights like this broke his heart. He hated to see her in pain; hated to watch her struggle.

  “Is she ok?” asked Jethro quietly once he was sure Lori was out of earshot.

  “Yeah,” sighed Jake, running his hand through his hair. “Just not one of her better days.”

  “What happened?” asked the older man. “She’s been really vague with me about it all.”

  “That’s her story to tell, Jethro,” replied Jake. “She still can’t talk about it. Won’t talk about it. Her leg was badly injured in the accident, then she had to have further surgery last January. She’ll tell you in her own good time.”

  “Such a shame,” sighed Jethro. “Such a beautiful girl to suffer so much.”

  “I won’t argue with you there,” agreed Jake. “She’s quite something.”

  ♫

  When she finally reached the bottom of the staircase, Lori paused for a moment. Every muscle in her thigh was screaming in protest at the ten floors she had climbed earlier, up and down. Adjusting her grip on her cane, she was ready to head down the hallway to the bedroom when she noticed Rich’s door was open and that the light was still on. Slowly, she hobbled over, knocked the door, then stepped into the room.

  “Hey, you ok?” she asked quietly, when she saw the guitarist lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

  Hearing her voice, Rich looked over and tried to force a smile. “I’ll live.”

  “Can I get you anything?”

  “Do you have anything stronger than Advil that won’t kill my stomach?”

  “I’ve got some Vicodin, but it might be too harsh for you,” Lori replied. “I was just about to take two myself.”

  “I’ll pass,” said Rich, sitting up. “Doesn’t agree with me. Are you ok?”

  “Fine. Just very sore,” she confessed. “Let me check the bathroom cabinet to see what else I have.”

  “It’s ok. Advil will do,” assured Rich, before adding quietly, “Some of this pain drugs can’t reach.”

  “Do you need to talk?” asked Lori softly, moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

  “I was lying here thinking back to recording the album. Right at the start of it. We had a lot of laughs at JJL and in your basement. All of us put everything into that record. It just doesn’t feel right to celebrate launching it when Gary’s not here to share in it all,” began Rich, his voice thick with emotion. “Every time I look in the mirror, I’m reminded of that crash. Every time we play a song off the record, I’m reminded of him. It’s tearing me apart that I was driving the car that killed him.”

  It was the first time Rich had opened up to her. His pain and guilt reminded her of how she had felt in the early days after her own accident. She understood only too well the torment he was going through. Taking a deep breath, Lori whispered, “I know how you feel. Probably know better than most folk, Rich. I’ve been in a similar place. Still there some days.”

  “You?”

  Lori nodded, then swallowed, before continuing, “When I had my own accident, a little girl died. If I hadn’t tried to save her, she might still be alive. If I’d done a better job. If I’d moved quicker. I reacted. I did what I could at the time, but it wasn’t enough.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Rich, surprised to see her cheeks wet with tears.

  “I was walking up Fifth Avenue on my way to the book store. A class of school kids were walking up the street in front of me. This one little girl was alone at the back of the group,” began Lori, staring down at her hands. “At the crosswalk, she was lagging behind. I heard the roar of a motorbike coming towards us fast and the sirens of the police cars chasing it. She stepped off the sidewalk as the bike came round the corner. I jumped out to push her to safety. At least, that was my intention. The bike hit me instead of her. The police car chasing the bike hit the little girl. She was killed instantly.”

  “But if you hadn’t tried to save her, the bike would’ve hit her anyway,” said Rich slowly.

  “And if you hadn’t reacted as quickly as you did, that tanker could’ve killed all of you,” countered Lori, wiping away her tears. “Neither of us can live our lives thinking “what if.” Can we?”

  The guitarist stared at her silently as she continued, “You look in the mirror and see a scar above your eye and Gary’s shadow behind you. I look down at my leg and see scars. When I close my eyes, I see that little girl staring lifelessly at me from under the police car as I lay on the ground. The pain never completely goes away, Rich, but it gets easier to bear. No one blames either of us for what’s happened. The only people blaming us are ourselves.”

  Understanding, Rich nodded, tears unshed in his own brown eyes.

  “Do Gary proud and launch this record and this tour with everything you’ve got,” said Lori with a smile. “Show the world that his memories live on in your music. Share in his passion for the success of it all.”

  Rich reached out and hugged her, his previously unshed tears gliding down his tender cheeks.

  “I never knew, Lori,” he said eventually, his voice husky.

  “It’s not an easy tale to tell,” she whispered sadly. “Very few people know the truth. I’d lik
e to keep it that way.”

  “I understand,” agreed Rich, kissing her wet cheek. “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me. It’s helped.”

  “Then it was worth these tears,” said Lori. Stiffly she got to her feet. “If you ever need to talk, you know where I am. And just so you know, Jake’s a good listener too. Don’t shut him out. Remember, he was there too and probably owes his life to you.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Night, Rich,” she said softly as she reached the doorway.

  Gently, she closed the bedroom door behind her as she headed towards her own room.

  It was almost midnight before Jake came into the bedroom. He was pleasantly surprised to find the light still on and Lori awake. Stripping off his T-shirt, he asked if she was ok.

  “I’m fine, but I did resort to some strong pain meds,” she replied as she slipped the marker into her book.

  “That bad?”

  Lori nodded. “That’s the first time I’ve had to take them for months. Those stairs really took their toll on me earlier.”

  As he slipped into bed beside her, Jake noticed her eyes were red.

  “Have you been crying, li’l lady?” he asked softly, bending over to kiss her.

  “Yes,” she confessed. “I was talking to Rich when I came down to bed. We had a bit of a heart to heart. I told him the truth about my accident. About the ghosts I live with. He’s still in a really dark place about Gary. I just wanted him to realise I understand how he feels. We were both in tears.”

  “I wish he’d talk to me,” sighed Jake, kissing her tenderly. “Thank you for reaching out to him. I know how tough that is on you. I wish I could take the pain away.”

  “You will,” whispered Lori as she kissed him. “The wedding will do that.”

  “I hope so, li’l lady.”

  Fans were gathered outside the record company offices when the minibus carrying Silver Lake pulled up at the kerb. As Jake stepped out, several young female fans started calling out his name. Painting on the smile, he went over to greet them, posing for photos and signing everything they thrust in front of him. Soon he was joined by his fellow band members, who were equally obliging to the fan requests. In the background, Maddy and Jethro kept an eye on things, allowing the fans their time with their heroes. Beside the management team, Lori and Linsey stood patiently waiting. After a few minutes, Maddy stepped forward and rounded up the band. With a final wave to their fans, Silver Lake entered the building.

  The foyer was decorated with posters advertising the album launch. There was even a life-size cardboard cut-out of the Silver Lake imp. Life-size he looked even more tortured and tormented than ever. At Lori’s suggestion, the band posed for photos with him while Maddy and Jethro looked on.

  “Leave that poor creature alone,” laughed Jethro. “Let’s get upstairs before you’re all late for your own launch party.”

  Silver Lake were joking about taking the imp out on stage with them as they rode up in the elevator. By the time they reached their floor, they were debating if they could get a mechanised model of him to appear on stage. When the elevator door opened, they were greeted by another life-size version of him guarding the door into the conference room. His presence triggered a fresh round of hilarity as they entered.

  “Good afternoon, gentlemen!” called out Jason theatrically.

  “Afternoon,” called back Jake, reaching out to take Lori’s hand. “Love the giant imps.”

  “Glad to hear it. He turned out rather well, don’t you think?”

  A couple of hours later, when the room was filled with their guests, record company personnel, potential promoters, media and even a few lucky fans, everyone seemed to be talking about the imp. Realising his creator was in their midst, Lori had been cornered by several journalists and interviewed about the inspiration behind the artwork. Discretely, the band slipped away from the party to prepare for the short set they were to play. Part of the room was screened off by a heavy, dark blue, velvet curtain and a small stage had been set up behind it.

  With a glass of champagne in hand, Maddy came over to rescue Lori from yet another impromptu interview.

  “How are you holding up?” asked the Goth, guiding her over to the side of the room. “You looked to be struggling a bit yesterday at lunch.”

  “I’m fine,” assured Lori, lifting a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter. “Glad to see you’re looking healthier than you were at the last launch party.”

  “Lord, don’t remind me,” declared her friend, remembering how sick she had been. “It’s been some year since then!”

  “It sure has,” agreed Lori, glancing round the room. “A far cry from the Surfside show I dragged you to!”

  “It certainly is,” Maddy acknowledged as Jethro came over to join them. “I’m just going to nip back and check that the boys are ready. I can see Jason giving me the evil eye.”

  “He sent me over,” commented Jethro. “You’ve apparently got five minutes to get them on stage.”

  “Jesus,” muttered Maddy. “He gets worse!”

  While the band stood silently in position behind the curtain, Jason delivered a lengthy heartfelt speech to the assembled guests and media. He paused to toast Gary’s memory, then formally welcomed Jethro to the “Silver Lake family.” With a shake of his head and a brief salute, Jethro declined to join the flamboyant Englishman on stage.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” declared Jason loudly. “After rising from their own Impossible Depths, let’s welcome Silver Lake to the stage.”

  He stepped aside as the curtains drew back to reveal the band. Before the velvet drapes were fully in place, Rich and Grey had launched into the hard, heavy opening of Engine Room. The huge Silver Lake sound filled the conference room to the satisfaction of everyone present. Without pausing for breath, the band played Out Of The Shadows then Jake stepped forward. “You still with us? That came out louder than planned! Hope your ears aren’t bleeding,” he apologised with a mischievous grin. “This next one is called Depths. We’ve not played this live yet so I guess this is the premiere!”

  The ghostly haunting intro spiralled through the room as Jake came in on vocals. He stood with his eyes closed, focussing on getting the mood and the lyrics right. With the haunting intro complete and the mood set, Grey’s heavy bass riff set the tone for the remainder of the song. From her position at the side of the room, Lori listened to this heavy version of the song. Her mind wandered back to the air force base in Dover and she silently decided that she preferred the acoustic version Jake had performed there. In front of her, Silver Lake powered through the long, heavy epic song luring their audience into its tortured drowning theme. As Jake ended the song with a raspier version of the eerie intro, the room erupted with applause and cheers.

  “Thank you,” he said humbly. “If you like what you’ve heard, tell your friends. It’s been a pleasure to play here today. We’ll leave you in traditional Silver Lake fashion. Flyin’ High, folks!”

  Sitting alone in the departure lounge at Philadelphia Airport a few days later, Lori anxiously checked her watch. She had followed her usual pre-flight ritual – light meal at the sandwich bar, wander through the duty free and had then purchased a couple of magazines for the flight from Hudson News. As she had arrived at the airport, Jake had called her from Amsterdam, promising to meet her at the hotel in London mid-morning next day.

  When she boarded the plane a short while later, Lori was surprised to find the first class section was full. She found herself seated next to a London lawyer. After exchanging a few pleasantries with him, she brought out her iPod and settled herself with her magazines. Spotting Silver Lake on the cover, she had picked up one of the music monthlies and smiled to herself as she read the interview with Jake and Grey, hearing their voices in her head. There was also an update on Weigh Station’s 25th anniversary plans, confirming that the Wembley show on Oct 31st was the only event planned. Rehearsals for the show were set to begin Oct 28th accord
ing to the email Dan had sent to Jake before he left for the European promotional tour. The Weigh Station front man hadn’t mentioned his health.

  The overnight flight into Heathrow passed peacefully. To her right, the lawyer had fallen asleep after three double whiskeys and proceeded to snore his way across the Atlantic. Despite the sleeping noises coming from her travelling companion, Lori managed to snatch about four hours sleep and stepped off the plane feeling remarkably fresh. As she sat in the back of the taxi that was taking her to the hotel, she sent Jake a message. “Landed safely. On the way to the hotel. See you soon, L x”

  A few seconds later, her phone chirped as his reply came through. “Just boarding. See you soon. Love you. J x”

  Knowing that she would see him again in a few hours made her smile. Stuffing the phone back into her bag, Lori settled back to enjoy the drive across London. The cab driver chatted cheerfully to her, pointing out famous landmarks as he negotiated the traffic. At first she struggled with his strong South East London accent, but was soon tuned in to his quick way of speaking. It took them almost an hour to reach the smart, city centre hotel that she was booked into. The driver insisted on taking her suitcase right into the lobby for her, earning him a generous tip. With a wave, he left her standing at the reception desk.

  “Good morning,” greeted the smartly dressed receptionist.

  “Morning,” said Lori, stifling a yawn. “I have a reservation. It’s in the name of Hyde and Power.”

  With the formalities of check in complete, Lori headed to the third floor room they had been allocated. When she opened the door, she found it was a large bright room with a separate sitting room and a small kitchen area, more akin to a studio apartment than a standard hotel room. Dropping her purse and coat on a chair, she fished out her phone to text Jake the room number then set about making herself a coffee.

  An hour or so later, she was stretched out on the couch with a second cup of coffee and her magazine when there was a knock at the door. As quickly as she could, she limped over to the door and looked through the spy hole. A weary, slightly dishevelled Jake was standing in the corridor.