I’d seen the set list online from a gig they did at the same venue the night before, so I wasn’t expecting them to slip in another song. It was quite strange how it happened. You can see it on You Tube, if you search for it.
If you hit ‘Play’, there’s Deff, seen on a quivering camera-phone screen and heard starting to play the chords that mark out one of their biggest hits. There’s Joel over by Stevo, yelling something off microphone into his ear. Stevo nods and goes to tell the drummer. The crowd is clapping to the rhythm of the drummer’s simple beat. Joel strides over to Deff and yells again. Deff nods. Joel turns and smiles as Deff’s chords begin to change to a different tune.
Joel steps forwards, right to the front of the stage where Tim and I are standing, no more than fifteen feet from me. He starts to sing a song that I haven’t heard for years. I think it’s called ‘Someday’. It’s not something they would usually play. He is looking all around during the verse, making eye contact with as many people as he can. Or is he looking for someone in particular?
When he reaches the chorus his eyes lock on mine. It’s like he is singing just to me. And it can’t be my imagination, because the intensity of his gaze makes the crowd part as the people in front of me turn to see who Joel is singing to.
The words are what matters to me. The words he is singing and his smile, such a beautiful smile. He is telling me it is going to be OK. That he and I will always have what we had but that it’s good we moved on and he is glad I am happy. And that we will be together, some day. The smile on his face is absolutely infectious, I realise I have a massive grin on my face too.
We’re OK, Joel and I.
He stops after that first chorus, the words having been said and the message received. He steps back into his role of front-man effortlessly; ever the professional.
Time leans across to me,” Wow! It’s like he was singing that right to you!” He says, incredulous. I am getting some curious looks from the people around me and in front, who you can tell really want to know what that was all about.
As the famous beat begins of one of their worldwide hits, the odd and unexpected interlude is forgotten. The crowd rises and falls together, fists punching in the air and bodies throwing themselves up towards the gaze of their heroes.
At the end of the gig, another surprise; Joel steps down off of the stage and into the camera run.
Suddenly he is leaning into the crowd in front of me, hand outstretched to the fans, high fiving and shaking hands with them. He leans in, towards where I am. My hesitation in moving towards him is overruled by a sudden surge of the crowd behind me, which throws me forwards to meet him. Instinctively and without conscious thought I stretch out my hand, as if the decision to do so was made for me rather than by me, like a magnet pulling me forwards. Mine is one in a sea of hands grasping for his.
All of a sudden our fingers intertwine and our eyes meet. I feel the energy passing from him to me. It courses through my bones, infusing me with strength and an overwhelming happiness. When I remember that moment, I’ll remember time slowing, the feel of his fingers, the pulse in my wrist and how muscle memory evoked such strength of feeling. In that instant I knew I had held his hand before. I knew these long-forgotten desires were created by the most amazing experiences and not just by my imagination.
You can see on the video clip. He squeezes my hand, smiles at me and then he lets go and a moment later he moves on to greet the rest of the front few rows of fans.
I try to turn to get back to Tim. I’m pushing against the weight of the crowd, which is now surging to my right. Determinedly I push on through, back to where Tim waits. He looks really excited. “Wow! Are you alright?” He asks.
I nod.
“Did you touch him?” He asks.
“I think so!” I answer, “It was mad down there, so many hands… it could have been anyone’s!” I laugh and Tim laughs. He has a great smile, open and warm and I really do like him.
There is a flourish of drums behind me and the lights flash twice more and they the lights go out and the band leave to a tremendous cheer. I don’t watch them go. I’m watching Tim. We kiss and I hope it’s the first of many kisses.
Twenty thousand fans being to exit the arena and I am just one of them, which is as it should be.
Tonight was not proof of anything. But it certainly felt like closure and, with such a handsome man’s arms around me, that’s good enough for now.
THE END
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THANK YOU
Writing a book takes a lot of time - three years in the case of Twinned - and I roped in a few friends along the way for much-needed second opinions. Thank you to Simon, Nik, Diane and Julian. Thank you to Alison, Helen and to Bill who inspired the character of David Nash. Thank you to my friends and colleagues who put up with my endless chatter about ‘the book’ and were so supportive in helping me to make decisions about the characters and plot.
I like to write while listening to music. I wanted to mention the artists whose music I listened to while I wrote ‘Twinned’. They include Lana Del Ray, INXS, The Killers, Amy Winehouse, Hole, Jeff Buckley, Maroon 5, The National, Noah and the Whale, Mansun, Damien Rice, U2, Gwen Stefani, John Garrison, Lady Gaga and Madeleine Peyroux. You can find a suggested playlist to accompany this book on www.aliceanngalloway.com.
Within this book it was important to me to make readers aware of Vitamin B12 Deficiency and Pernicious Anaemia, which are treatable but so often misdiagnosed. If you or someone you knows suffers with pallor, severe fatigue, sighing/yawning, nervous system disorders, vertigo, dizziness, palpitations or depression it is worth asking for a vitamin deficiency test. This is not an exhaustive list of symptoms; go online to the Pernicious Anaemia Society to find out more.
Within the book, the character Anne Rosa suffers with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome / ME. You don’t hear of her much in the book because she doesn’t get out much anymore. There are millions of people like Anne who were once energetic and successful and are now suffering at home and living a half-life that is full of pain. They are waiting for a cure that they know might not come. They are often affected by social stigma regarding their illness and can feel excluded from the world around them.
To all those who live with chronic illness – you are not forgotten. Live with the hope that one day you might be well again and, no matter what anyone says, never give up on pressing your GP or medical specialist for further diagnosis or treatment.
Thank you so much for reading this book, please do leave a review. I hope you enjoyed it.
Alice Ann
Alice Ann Galloway
Find out about future releases at www.aliceanngalloway.com
Sneak Peak – ‘First Love’ by Alice Anne Galloway
CHAPTER ONE
Rachel wasn’t here.
He’d searched the crowds in both the upstairs and downstairs bar, then braved the sub-zero temperatures to venture out onto the terrace where he now stood, lips pressed, shoulders hunched; his heart feeling desolate. He and Rachel had always planned to celebrate his birthday here. Was he really surprised she’d changed her mind about that too?
Swigging the last of his beer, Jake tried to feel angry with his ex-girlfriend for having dumped him just two weeks before his birthday. She’d kept him hanging on a thread for most of the year like some kind of puppet… yet she couldn’t wait just a few more weeks until after Christmas to tell him it was over? He’d known deep down that he was the one doing all the running but still, he had fallen in love with her. At Thanksgiving he’d given her a beautiful antique emerald necklace and she’d seemed to understand what that meant to him. Maybe he’d seen what he’d wanted to see in her reaction.
His jaw clenched and he swallowed heavily; he was a fool. He’d thought she was ‘the one’. He was glad to be alone with his
thoughts for a moment or two. Back inside the festivities were in full swing. His was a false cheer; his smile weak.
He gazed out on what was usually such a busy stretch of the waterfront, seeing instead what appeared to be a desolate road, silver by moonlight and snaking off into the distance. In twenty-two years of living in Boston he’d never known the Charles River to freeze over this completely, and so early in winter. Some guy at college swore he walked across it from Boston to Cambridge. You gotta pity the crazy fool if he did. The sound of thumping music and occasional laughter carried across from the dozens of bars, clubs and restaurants that lined the waterfront. Their lights twinkled festively through the dark the same as they always did but the sound was deadened. The river itself was eerily silent without the movement of the water, boats and barges.
Jake sighed. Rachel could be anywhere. There was no point in looking for her anyways. She had moved on. He should stop wallowing and do the same. He took a few deep breaths to still the butterflies in his stomach and steeled himself to go back inside.
Jake’s glasses steamed up as they hit the warmer air. As he stepped over the threshold he took them off; there was no point in maintaining the preppy look that Rachel had favored. Drawing the terrace door shut, he saw his downtrodden reflection in the glass against the black sky. He straightened up.
Jake scanned the room for his friends. His view of the room was predominantly the tops of people’s heads. He stood at a ridiculously tall six foot five inches. Despite his powerful physique, which he honed by cycling, rowing and playing the drums like a demon, in his head he was still the fat, shy kid from his school days. As much as it bothered him, his height had been his savior. He remembered how drastically the balance of power had shifted at age fifteen when he returned from summer break to discover he towered over the bullies.
He’d go get another beer.
Opening up his wallet he was confronted by her photo. His insides twisted as he hastily removed it. He’d met Rachel at Berklee Music College. At twenty-two she was eight months older than him and so ‘together’, so smart. Jake had noticed her immediately and he’d stood in awe of her, almost afraid to approach. She had full lips, exotic olive skin and best of all she stood five foot eleven in her bare feet. The package she presented was the holy trinity in Jake’s eyes. He was thoroughly converted to the worship of Rachel Myers. When she wore heels, for the first time in his life he felt like a regular person standing next to her.
Once they began dating, she knew just how to get his mom on side to let her stay over, “May we have separate rooms please, Mrs Spencer?” She’d ask, twirling her gold crucifix under her beautifully talented fingers and looking up through her eyelashes. Oh, those fingers… She’d played him like a harp.
He looked again at the photo. Those eyes… Where everyone else saw a respectable and proper Catholic girl - his mom included - Jake knew different. Rachel’s sweet holy-communion smile belied a voracious sexual appetite. She knew plenty of ways to get him hot and bothered; that was for sure.
Who was she using that formidable power on now? He’d heard all sorts of rumors. He should toss the photo in the trash.
“Jakey!” A thump landed on his shoulder, surprising him. “What you drinking, birthday boy?”
He covered the photo with his hand. “I’ll get this round, you got the last one.”
“No mate, it’s your birthday, I insist.”
“Thanks,” he forced a smile, “Same again please buddy.”
As his friend strode over to the bar, Jake slid the photo of Rachel to the back of the wallet, behind his ID.
Gotta stop wallowing.
There was a great atmosphere in here tonight. The bar was decked out with tinsel and holly. A Christmas tree stood opposite the wide oak and glass stairs, one of those white fiber optic trees with lights that flashed through a spectrum of purple, blue, green, white and pink then back to purple again. And then there was the mistletoe; cheekily hung in the hallway right between the queue for the guys’ and the queue for the girls’ restrooms. A queue he’d avoided for that very reason.
Jake inwardly cursed his parents’ timing. Having your birthday on December twenty-four was rough. Half the cards he’d received today were Christmas cards, with a hastily scrawled ‘PS Have a great Birthday.’ Every year without fail, Jesus stole his thunder.
“Jake!”
An arm was frantically waving at him from within the crowd at the bar. Jake wandered over. It was his buddy. Gareth, stood in line to be served.
A card was thrust into his hands. “Happy Birthday!” Gareth looked genuinely pleased to see him.
“Thanks buddy! How you doin’?”
“Good thanks, how’s it going at Berklee?”
“Pretty good thanks. A ton of assignments, lots of practicing… you know what it’s like.”
Jake had played in the same band as Gareth at high school and he was pretty good on guitar as Jake remembered. Though they were opposites in many ways; Gareth slightly built against Jake’s far more commanding presence, Gareth’s fondness for smoking weed versus Jake’s preference for sport; they’d found the common thread of old 90s vinyl. Gareth’s musical tastes were a little more ‘grungy’ than Jake’s. Gareth was into the Seattle sounds of Nirvana whereas Jake liked British music like Oasis and Blur, as well as the Irish music he’d grown up with.
“You want a beer, Jake?”
“I’ve got one on its way, thanks.” He nodded towards the guys he’d come here with who were waiting to be served. They were Berklee through and through and they didn’t like Gareth. He could understand why, Gareth was a little socially awkward but he was fine one-on-one. They were sniggering and looking over.
“Thanks for the card Gareth.”
“Well, that’s OK. Where’s Rachel?”
What to say?
He sighed and shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine, mate.”
“She’s not here?”
“No.” Please don’t ask.
“Oh well say ‘Hi’ when you see her.”
Phew. “Sure.”
“Actually Jake, I’m glad I ran into you. I’ve been meaning to ask you something. Have you got a minute?” Gareth looked up at him, hopefully.
Jake hoped whatever he planned to ask was nothing to do with Rachel.
“Sure, I’ll grab my beer from the guys and we can talk.”
#
“You want me to join a band? What kind of music are you wanting to play?” Jake asked after taking Gareth aside; Gareth had thrown the question at him from nowhere. Running through his mind, the memory of his mom telling him that his dad had played drums in a band. Mom always said there was music in Jake’s blood, though he’d got the impression that she also feared what else he might have inherited from his father.
“Well, it’s open for discussion... Jake, I’ve met this girl.” Gareth’s movements were edgy and sharp.
“A-ha…”
“She’s a singer. Well not professionally or anything, she’s on my photography course at MassArt. I’ve heard her sing.” He was completely wired.
“Let me guess. You want an ‘in’ to spend more time with her?”
“Well, okay, yes.” Gareth laughed. “You got me… but a band would be fun, and we have a couple of weeks before college starts. We could use them to sort out what kind of band we want to be?”
Gareth launched into a monologue about the girl, Anna her name was. He kind of zoned out as Gareth talked, watching his friend as he spoke. How she was going through a hard time, how she was vulnerable, how she needed him. Blah, blah, blah.
He couldn’t shake the suspicion that she was leading his friend on.
“We’re hanging out a lot. I mean, I know she likes me… But how to get her to really like me? That’s the thing.”
“Uh-huh. You mean sleep with you?”
Gareth sniggered. “Seriously Jake, you wouldn’t believe it. Most of the ways I imagine having her aren’t even legal…”
�
��How has she got you like this, man?”
Gareth was nursing his beer. He sighed and wiped his hand across his face.
“You know, it’s like this; every weekend it’s the same. I pick Anna up from her apartment, like it’s a date. I take her out, buy her drinks – all like it’s a date! You know I have to stay sober to drive so there I sit, watching her twirling her hair at some better looking guy all evening and guess what? At the end of the evening she’s making out with him on the sidewalk.”
“And you leave?”
Gareth looked at him, bemused.
“You leave her there, right?”
“No, I mean, it’s cold… I drive her home.”
She wasn’t just leading him on. Far worse, this girl was using his friend for free rides. His bitterness at Rachel became a scorn for all women who were just out for themselves, who didn’t even care about what they caused others to feel, or the devastation they brought about...
“Jake, I… I think I love her.” Gareth’s face was open, his eyes shining.
Jake glowered. He was pumped. “Where is she now, this Anna?”
“Upstairs, flirting with the barman,” Gareth looked mournfully at his beer. “Jake. I don’t know if I can take it.”
“I can’t believe she got you like this, man.”
Twinned Page 20
