One Last Shot

by Archer, Julie

  Poppy and Eva were in the kitchen, eating toast and drinking tea. Their conversation stopped as he walked into the room. It didn’t take a genius to work out that he was the likely topic of conversation.

  “Morning,” said Poppy. “Sleep well?”

  Richey opened the fridge, trying to hide from them as he answered. “Mmm, thanks.”

  “I found this one asleep on the sofa this morning.” Poppy gestured to Eva. “Left her there last night when I went to bed.”

  Richey looked Eva directly in the eye. “Yeah, you said you were tired when you came back from work.”

  “And I didn’t want to disturb your evening,” replied Eva. “You and Gabrielle seemed to be getting on extremely well.”

  Richey felt Poppy’s eyes burning into him. “Um, yeah, sorry about that.”

  “No need to apologise to me, Richey.” Poppy glanced at Eva. “You’re a grown up.”

  He didn’t say anything else as he busied himself making some coffee and preparing a couple of croissants. Poppy and Eva resumed their conversation, talking about the play date India was going on that afternoon. He left the room and heard them change the subject back to him and Gabrielle. He shook his head as he re-entered the bedroom. It was his decision after all.

  “Morning, gorgeous.” He bent down and kissed Gabrielle’s forehead. “I brought you some breakfast.”

  Richey sat on the bed as Gabrielle stretched and woke up. She reached for him and drew him down to her, kissing him full on the mouth.

  She drew back, a sly smile on her face. “Do you do this for Eva?”

  “Why would I? We’re not together.”

  “I think you need to tell her that.” Gabrielle reached for one of the mugs. “She was a total bitch to me yesterday.”

  Richey didn’t think for one minute that Eva had behaved badly. “If we’re not together, I don’t need to tell her anything. She’ll see for herself what’s going on.”

  Gabrielle’s phone chirped with a text message. She grabbed the device from the bedside table and squealed. “Oh my God! I’m going to be so late! I totally forgot that I had an audition this morning for Pink Ginger! They’re looking for dancers for one of the new nights they’re starting up. Can I use your shower?”

  “Sure, just check Eva’s not in there.”

  Gabrielle narrowed her eyes as she looked at him. “Really? The two of you share a bathroom as well as a house?”

  While Gabrielle sorted herself out, Richey hunted in the wardrobe for his notebook, the one that had some lyrics in. He flicked through the pages and various memories came back to him as he reread the words he’d written.

  “What are you doing tonight?” asked Gabrielle. She was finishing her make-up in his room, something about the light apparently.

  “Not sure, might be rehearsing.”

  “Oh.” Gabrielle pouted.

  “Why don’t you text me later? Let me know how your audition went? Maybe we can go out and celebrate.”

  Gabrielle threw her arms around his neck. “Ooo, sounds good. I’ll miss you today.”

  “Um, yeah, me too.”

  With one last lipsticky kiss, Gabrielle was gone, leaving behind the overpowering fragrance of her perfume. Richey stripped the sheets from the bed, leaving them bundled on the floor, and his clothes soon followed. What he needed most was a shower and some time to think. He wrapped a towel around his waist and headed to the bathroom. It was locked, and he could hear water running. He leaned against the doorjamb and hammered on the door.

  “Eva? You nearly done?”

  “Give her some space.” Poppy’s voice floated down the hallway. “I don’t think she was particularly happy with you bringing someone home last night.”

  Richey felt awkward, not least because he wasn’t wearing anything except a towel. “We’re not together. I don’t have to answer to her.”

  Poppy sighed and walked towards him. “She likes you. You like her. That’s obvious. I’ve seen how you act around each other. She slept on the sofa last night because she couldn’t bear the thought of overhearing you with someone else.”

  He clutched the towel tighter around his waist. “I guess I didn’t think. Gabrielle was, well, quite insistent.” And I was horny, he thought to himself. Eva was the real reason for that feeling.

  “I’m sure she was.” Poppy hesitated. “You don’t know what Eva went through with her last boyfriend. Just don’t mess with her head. You’ll be going away soon, and I suggest that you figure out what you want before you go.”

  The bathroom door opened, and Eva stood there, dressed and ready for work. She looked between Richey and Poppy. “What’s with the audience? Am I late or something?” She barged past Richey and into her room. She slammed the door behind her, causing him to wince.

  “See?” said Poppy. She turned and went back towards India’s room.

  Richey shut the bathroom door behind him. He draped the towel over the side of the bath and stepped into the shower cubicle. He wondered what Poppy had meant about Eva’s previous relationship. Of course, he and Eva hadn’t exactly had the opportunity to sit down together and discuss their pasts. On reflection, that was probably a good thing. He wasn’t sure whether he was ready to bring up all the ghosts of relationship’s past. One thing he did know for sure, though, was that he needed to find a way to ensure that Gabrielle was only a one-night thing.

  Chapter Twenty

  Tour rehearsals were coming thick and fast, and it wasn’t long before Blood Stone Riot were on the last one before heading out on the road. It was their final session at The Indigo Lounge, and things were essentially running like clockwork. Richey was definitely comfortable with the songs in the set now. He and Nate were getting to the stage where they instinctively knew what the other was doing. They felt ready.

  They were having a break before the final run-through: Alik was tinkering with the set list, Nate was changing one of his guitar strings, Dev was checking his email, and Richey was playing about with the lyrics of a song. Alik’s phone rang and immediately they all jumped on him.

  “Hey, no phones in rehearsal!”

  “I thought Caro knew the rules...”

  “Alik, really?”

  Alik held his hands up and mouthed “Sorry” as he walked over to the bar.

  Richey strummed a few notes on his bass as he sang quietly. He crossed out a couple of bars and rewrote them, as he fitted the words to the tune better. He wasn’t aware of Nate watching him closely as he played. He also didn’t notice when the guitarist joined in with some riffs of his own, complementing the bass line perfectly almost immediately. He was lost in his own world.

  A few minutes later, Alik came back to them and sat down at one of the tables. “Guys, that was Parker. He just found out that Crimson Mantra have dropped out of the Roccia Awards on Friday. And he called the editor to see if we could fill the slot.”

  Richey’s jaw dropped. He was ready to go out on tour, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready to be on stage in front of a roomful of music legends and his more-successful peers.

  “You’re kidding,” said Nate. “Parker wouldn’t do that to us the week before we head out on tour.”

  “It would appear he has. Apparently we go on at seven for a twenty minute slot before dinner.”

  The band looked at each other. None of them knew what to say.

  Alik took charge. “Right, let’s get this session back on track. We can work out a set list for Friday. We’ll need four, maybe five songs. Let’s do some different stuff, maybe a cover?”

  “I think Richey might have something to add to that.” Nate looked at Richey. “He’s working on a killer track.”

  Richey shook his head. “Don’t know what you’re talking about. I was just messing around.”

  “Mate, if that’s just messing around, you should do it more often. Look, just play it for Alik. I was listening, made up some guitar parts, we can do it together.”

  Richey was reluctant. He was used to playing covers
—which essentially for him, playing with Blood Stone Riot was, at least for the time being—and he certainly hadn’t played anything of his own in a very long time. Despite Alik’s protestations that he was definitely one of the band, he still felt like a bit of an outsider and playing in front of the rest of them, no matter how small the audience, put the fear into him.

  “Yeah, please, Richey,” said Alik. “I’d like to hear what you can do.”

  Richey knew he was defeated. He had nothing to lose. If they didn’t like the song, it need never see the light of day again. And if they did, well... He picked up his bass and started to play the introduction. After a couple of beats, Nate joined in, and Richey realised he’d already added something to the track with the riffs he had come up with. As he sang, his voice cracked, unused to singing in public. He saw Alik nodding his head in time with the beat. Dev had started to improvise a drum section. A sense of pride flitted through him. When he got to the end of the material he had, Alik gave a short round of applause.

  “Seriously, Richey, why have you been keeping that from us?” asked Alik. “The words...whatever the hell it was that inspired you...beautiful.”

  Richey was silent. He wasn’t ready yet to discuss with the rest of the band the motivation for writing the song. Even now, there were some parts that just felt too painful. No-one pressed him on it, but he would probably have to tell them at some point.

  Nate nodded. “I know you’re coming from a bass perspective on this, but have you considered playing guitar on it?”

  “Maybe even acoustic, just you and a guitar.” Alik clicked his fingers. “That’s it! If you practice that, we could use it as an acoustic break in the tour.”

  Richey nodded, blown away by the comments. He hadn’t expected such a good reception. “Sure, I can get you the final lyrics, and maybe Nate can write the rest of the guitar break.”

  Alik shook his head. “No, Richey. I don’t want to sing or play the song, I want you to do it. I think it’s a great way to show off the new Blood Stone Riot. Show that we’re a band with a range of talents, not just focused on one person.”

  Nate laughed. “If only Billy were here to hear you say that.”

  Richey looked down at the floor. He couldn’t believe what Alik was asking him to do. It was everything he wanted.

  Alik grabbed Richey’s notebook and ripped one of the pages out. He picked up a pen and started writing notes. “This is staying between us until the tour. Much as I’d love to debut it on Friday, it’s not quite the right time. We need to show that we’re back in business, which means the old favourites.” He went on to outline the songs he thought they should do, mostly the usual suspects. Songs that Richey was comfortable with.

  “Right, we’ve got just over an hour. If we’re clever, we can run through this twice.” Alik waved the set list at them.

  The two run-throughs were practically flawless. Both ended with ‘Bleed Like Cyanide’, which reminded Richey of what he needed to do about Gabrielle. Although it had only been a little over a week, she seemed to think that they were an established couple. Since he’d brought her home after the video shoot, he’d met up with her twice at another club in North Ridge. He hadn’t taken her back to his, or slept with her, after the conversation he’d had with Poppy. He needed to address things with Eva, preferably before he went out on tour. Time was ticking.

  When they’d finished packing up, Alik suggested they go out for beers to celebrate their last rehearsal before going on the road. Rather than staying at The Indigo Lounge, the band headed for the Rose and Thistle, which was a quieter pub on the outskirts of town. Richey was grateful because it was somewhere that Gabrielle wouldn’t ever consider coming to—an old man’s pub with darts or football on the TV and lots of real ale.

  They talked about the plans for Friday evening after Parker had sent Alik a short email with the details of the venue and what time they needed to be there.

  “Richey, I’m really pleased that you came up with that song,” said Alik. “It’s a slightly different direction for us, but I’m pretty sure it’s going to work really well.”

  Richey couldn’t help but be flattered. Alik was such a prolific songwriter; it was praise indeed. Given the situation that compelled him to write it, he was glad that there could be a happy ending. Because in reality there hadn’t been.

  “How are The Indigo Lounge going to cope without you?” asked Alik. “Caro says you’ve done really well since you’ve been there.”

  “I’m sure they’ll manage. Eva has been doing a great job as well. The promotional stuff she’s put out has increased the numbers. She’s easy to work with.” Richey glanced down at his phone as it flashed up with a text message. Gabrielle. She wanted to meet him later. He ignored it. It was more important that he go home and talk to Eva, and be honest with her about how he felt. “Guys, I’m going to head off now.”

  “No problem,” said Alik. “We’ll catch up tomorrow on the logistics for Friday.”

  “Say ‘hello’ to the girls for me,” said Nate.

  Richey nodded. It was awkward staying in the house when Nate wasn’t, but the guitarist had insisted that just because things weren’t working out with him and Poppy, Richey should have a place to live until they went out on tour. It wouldn’t be fair to kick him out now. Richey was grateful for that. He grabbed his jacket and headed for home.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Eva was glad to get home; work had been spectacularly shit. She’d found herself breaking up an argument between a couple when a guy had started shouting at his girlfriend. His words reminded her of Jed, and she’d ended up in the office crying her eyes out. Nic had taken pity on her, without knowing the full story, and told her to go home early.

  Getting back to an empty house hadn’t helped. Poppy had taken India to see Chrissy for a couple of days, Nate was still staying at Alik’s, and Richey appeared to be out. Eva stripped off her black jeans and Indigo Lounge t-shirt and pulled on a pair of fleece lounge pants and a hoodie, putting her hair up into a loose ponytail.

  She wandered into the kitchen and opened the fridge. She scanned the contents and grabbed a chicken and lemon risotto ready-meal that had no more than three hundred calories. And probably even less taste. She stabbed the pack and popped it in the microwave. While she waited for it to cook, she poured herself a tall glass of orange juice and restrained herself from topping it up with vodka. Once the microwave pinged, she headed into the living room with her dinner. She curled up in one corner of the huge sofa and flicked on the TV, finding an old episode of Gossip Girl to pass the time. As expected, the ready-meal had barely filled her up, and she was still hungry. Not to mention the fact it hadn’t tasted of chicken or lemon. She had half an eye on the screen and half an eye on social media when she heard the front door open.

  “Anyone home?” Richey’s voice boomed through the house.

  “In here!” replied Eva.

  Eva listened as he went into the kitchen and banged about getting a drink. The aroma of freshly-cooked chips preceded his arrival in the living room. Her mouth watered as he plonked himself down beside her, a can of beer in one hand, the chips in a polystyrene tray and paper on his lap.

  “Oh and that’s helping my diet,” she said. The smell of vinegar now invaded her nostrils.

  Rickey raked his gaze down the length of her body. “You don’t need to diet. You look amazing; you know, fit.”

  For once she wished she wasn’t dressed in her casual clothes.

  He took a swig of beer. “Fancy a chip?”

  She shook her head. He waved one in front of her, teasing her as he leaned over and tried to slip the chip between her lips. She laughed and tried to move out of his reach, but he was too quick. He grabbed her arm and pretended to wrestle her back onto the sofa. As he did so, the beer can he held spilled over, drenching her top.

  “Shit! Sorry!” Richey dabbed ineffectually at the stain with a paper napkin.

  “Leave it, I’ll just take it off.�
��

  Eva could feel him watching intently as she unzipped the garment to reveal a beautiful violet-coloured bra, adorned with lace, that emphasised her generous curves. She reached over and put a finger under his chin, pushing upwards until his eyes met hers.

  “Eyes off the goods, Mason, I don’t think you deserve them,” she said. “Yet.”

  “What can I do to claim my prize?”

  Eva tugged at the hem of his t-shirt. “I’m feeling a bit vulnerable here being the only one half naked...”

  Richey didn’t need asking twice. He pulled his t-shirt over his head, revealing his tightly-muscled, tattooed torso. Despite having bumped into him many times coming out of the shower clad in little more than a towel, Eva hadn’t been this close to him. She hadn’t realised just how many inks he had. She could spend hours looking at them, tracing them with her fingers, finding out what they meant to him. There was one in particular she was drawn to, one that wound round his waist, just above his hip, a quote that read keep on dreaming, cause when you stop dreaming it’s time to die.

  “What’s this one?” she asked. She lightly drew a nail across his skin over the word dreaming.

  “You always need a dream. Even when you’ve achieved one, you still need something else to aim for. If you don’t have any ambition, you may as well be dead.” His eyes glittered as he turned to face her. “I dreamed of playing in a band, and I’m getting to do that. So I need to chase something else.”

  “Any idea of what that might be?” Eva held her breath, waiting for him to reply.