Falling for his ANGEL_A Rock Star Romance

by Megan Hetherington

  Yes, Helen had to put effort in on all fronts.

  ***

  “Hey Jonny.” Helen had managed to catch him at home for once.

  “What’s up?”

  She knew he hadn’t quite got the chatting on the telephone thing. To his simple way of thinking there had to be a reason for her call. If he wanted to see a mate he might ring them up first but usually would just go to their house or the usual hang outs. Helen however would walk from school with her friends and then as soon as she got home call one of them to finish their conversation. Usually to bitch about someone. Her father had even gone to the lengths of putting a lock on the telephone dial after receiving a particularly high bill that he blamed her for. Knowing where he kept the key, it didn’t really work as a deterrent.

  She carried on the conversation. “Nothing, really. Just wondered how you were doing? Didn’t see you in school today?”

  “Nah. Couldn’t be bothered. What you up to tonight?”

  “Not a lot. Just revising really. Anyway, what do you mean you couldn’t be bothered? Thought you said you had an exam today?”

  “Yeah, well I’m done with all that.”

  “Oh!” Helen didn’t really know what to say. Jonny’s exam timetable had been getting more serious as the month went on, and the first couple he had sat he said were difficult. Too difficult. Jonny didn’t do difficult. If she chastised him he would probably be annoyed with her. Anyway, why didn’t he confide in her? She told him everything she was up to. She didn’t get it.

  “OK, well I’m gonna get going. Let you get on with your revising.”

  He sounded like he genuinely didn’t want to get in the way of Helen’s revision, but she was desperate to see him. As usual.

  “I could do with a break if you fancy coming round? They’re out tonight at Bridge Club. Won’t be back until well after eleven.”

  He didn’t hesitate. “Sure, why not.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. “OK great, see you soon.”

  Helen ran upstairs to tidy her room. As an only child she was given the option of either of the two smaller bedrooms. Choosing the smallest because it was furthest away from her parents’ room. Giving her more freedom to have friends around or to play music without them banging on the other side of the wall.

  She draped a silk scarf over the shade on her bedside table lamp, hoping it would create a subtle glow in that part of the room. Before switching it on, she took one last look outside. The window overlooked all the neighbouring gardens. Despite dusk, there were still kids playing, trying to eke out their play time before bed. Fathers mowing lawns and mothers bringing in washing that had dried on nylon lines zigzagged across the gardens.

  Helen’s garden wasn’t like any other in the neighbourhood. It was meticulous. No mud patches in their lawn from playing football or cricket. No swing, or climbing frame, or Wendy house for her. Instead there was a greenhouse, rows of bamboo caned broad beans and peas, an ornamental rose bed and a patio with a table and just two chairs. Their’s wasn’t a family garden designed for fun; it was a perfectly cultivated picture. There to be looked at and for her mother to escape to.

  She pulled down the window blind and stowed away all the childish soft toys littering her window sill.

  Flicking through her collection of vinyl records, she moved the ones she hoped would create the right mood to the front. Putting the compilation albums, especially the ones that were not by the original artists, to the back.

  Then Helen turned her attention to her appearance. “Arghh!” she exclaimed at the reflection, Zooming her face towards the mirror to get an up close assessment of the angry looking zit on the end of her nose. “Where did that come from?”

  She scrabbled frantically through the cosmetics drawer for a concealer. Resisting the urge to squeeze and pick at it first.

  Zit attended to, she laid on top of the duvet on the small single bed waiting for Jonny to turn up. She couldn’t calm her thoughts enough to revise, so flicked through some magazines instead. Reading Smash Hits twice and then even all the articles in Jackie.

  Her mother still bought Jackie every now and then, but it was rarely read. Helen had moved on from most of the relationship quandaries written about in the fictional stories and that actual readers supposedly submitted to the resident agony aunt. She even laughed dismissively at some of the naivety of the writers and the so called expert answers. She knew it was her mother’s way of avoiding talking to Helen about puberty and any feelings or concerns she might have. Letting the purchase make up for their lack of mother-daughter relations.

  Bored, and worried her make up might smudge if she left it much longer, she went downstairs and rang him again.

  Jonny’s mother answered this time.

  “No sorry, he’s not here. He went out about an hour ago. When he gets back, shall I tell him you called?”

  “No, don't worry about it. It’s fine.”

  It wasn’t really, but she wasn’t about to say anything different to Mrs Harrison. Helen shied away from Jonny’s mother, mainly due to their initial introduction.

  She had only been seeing Jonny a few weeks and they were both invited to a house party. Helen was supposed to be staying at a friend’s house overnight. Avoiding the likelihood of her parents grounding her. They undoubtedly would wait up and discover she had been drinking alcohol.

  However, it didn’t quite go according to plan. Helen’s friend drank a full bottle of Martini in the first hour and then became paranoid, convinced she would die of alcohol poisoning. Her friend had tearfully rung home asking to be picked up early. Rather than leave the party early herself, Helen lied to her friend’s parents, saying she would stay at another girlfriend’s house. She couldn’t leave Jonny at a party without her. No way.

  Jonny convinced her to stay over at his place after the party, saying, “My mum will be in bed. I’ve got a key. She never waits up for me. She won’t even know you are there. You can sneak out in the morning before she gets up.”

  Yeah right.

  Helen shuddered at the thought of what actually happened.

  Yes, Jonny had a key.

  Yes, Mr & Mrs Harrison had gone to bed.

  Unfortunately, that’s where the picture Jonny painted stopped.

  The thudding of Jonny’s bed against the wall had woken Mr Harrison and, fearing a burglar was breaking in through Jonny’s window, he stormed into the bedroom armed with a baseball bat. Mrs Harrison’s face as she cowered behind her husband was indelibly marked on Helen’s memory. It still made her feel sick to this day.

  After the embarrassing discovery, Jonny had persuaded his mum to let Helen stay. She agreed but only if Helen moved to the living room and slept on the sofa. It was quite clear what Mrs Harrison thought of her. She had told her husband, in a not so quiet voice, when they returned to bed.

  Having dozed off thinking of that incident, Helen was disorientated when the noise of stones rattling against the window woke her.

  She knelt up on the bed and pulled up the blind. Peering out into the night, her eyes adjusted to the darkness, just able to make out Jonny’s tall broad frame. She opened her window to whisper down to him.

  “Jonny?”

  “Are you gonna let me in then?” he bawled back.

  He sounded drunk and had trampled the rose bushes her mother so carefully pruned each week. How had he got in the garden in the first place? There was a six-foot fence and a lock on the gate protecting their property from unwanted footballs. There was no way an errant child would retrieve one without having to ask first.

  “What the hell!” Letting the blind drop, she scrambled off the bed and hurried down the stairs, desperately trying to pry apart her mascara glued eyelashes on the way. She unhooked the back door key from the wall mounted wooden box and unlocked the door.

  “How did you get in the garden?”

  “Jumped over the fences.”

  “Really? Anyway where’ve you been?”

  “Chill… it’s n
ot even ten o’clock yet. I’ll go if you want?” Jonny pointed back to the garden he had emerged from.

  His familiar scent, a heady mix of cigarettes and aftershave, made her stomach do somersaults.

  “No, you’re here now. It’s fine. Come in.”

  Truth be told, she wasn’t going to turn him away anytime of the day or night. Locking the door behind him she took a bottle of Coke from the pantry and followed him as he sprang two steps at a time up the stairs and into the bedroom.

  Jonny studied Helen’s record collection. “You got anything decent yet?”

  Flicking past All About Eve and Tracey Chapman he stopped at Prince’s latest album “Lovesexy”. “Yuck!” Screwing his face up at the sight of Prince’s naked body on the front cover. “Maybe not, then.”

  He pushed it back onto the shelf, and chose "Electric" by the Cult. Placing the needle on his favourite track, “You’re a wolf child girl,” he sang and pulled Helen onto her bed.

  Chapter Three

  “How old are you now?”

  “Nearly seventeen. Why?” Jonny handed over the whiskey chaser.

  “Just wondered. Remember when you first started here. Spotty youth you were.”

  “I’ve never had spots!” Looking around for the actual spotty youth. Jonny would not have left all those dirty glasses at the end of the bar when he was the newbie.

  “Whatever… I do remember you watching the bands though instead of doing your job. What was it you said you played?”

  “Bass.”

  “Yeah that’s right. Bass. Couldn’t you be bothered to learn to play a proper guitar?”

  Jonny scooted to the end of the bar and brought back a plastic crate full of the dirty glasses. He was going to have to take this criticism on the chin, so he might as well keep his hands occupied.

  “I can play lead. Just choose not to.” Pushing a couple of the pint glasses into the white bubbly water.

  “Yeah easier to get a gig with the bass. No-one wants to play second fiddle.”

  Jonny took a moment to find the right phrase. “What the fuck do you know about it?” wasn’t going to do him any favours.

  “Remind me what you do again? Music-wise that is.” Jonny asked with more than a hint of sarcasm.

  Sidling up to Jonny, Christine employed her expert bar brawl averting techniques. “Jonny’s brilliant at the guitar. He can play a song just by repeating what he hears. He plays in a band now too. Do you remember O’Keefe who has that Irish band? They played on St Paddy’s day?”

  The drunk salivated, his tongue rasping over the stubble around his mouth as he licked it away. Probably marvelling, like every other ageing drinker at this low end establishment, at how his brother had managed to keep this blonde bombshell employed for so long.

  Not reacting to his obvious leer. “Well Jonny plays in a band with their son, Joe. They’re really good.”

  “So do ya play Irish stuff, then?” he continued his taunting.

  Before Jonny had time to turn the incredulous thought of someone mistaking him for an Irish traditional folk guitarist into a politically correct answer, Christine stepped in again.

  “No, they play rock. I’ve been to see them a few times and they really get the crowd going.” Smiling at the thought of the young foursome strutting their stuff on stage.

  “Huh.” He didn’t seem to be impressed. “Anyways. I’m off. Don’t want you getting in trouble with the teacher. Falling asleep in class ‘cos you’ve been up too late.”

  He wagged a dirty finger at Jonny and emptied the contents of his trouser pocket onto the beer towel on the bar and slid down off his stool.

  “Keep the change. And tell that arse hole of a so called brother of mine to ring me,” he slurred back to them, walking like a crab towards the exit.

  Christine came out from the safety of the bar and ran ahead of him to unlock the large bolt on the door, before re-locking it behind him.

  “Phew. Glad to get rid of him at last.”

  She pushed two glasses simultaneously against random optics. A celebratory tradition she had instigated at the end of each shift.

  “You still at school then?”

  He looked at his watch. 1 am. Another late one. There was no way he was getting up in the morning. An impulse decision made. “No. I’ve quit.”

  He’d said as much to Helen and now again. So that was it. Decision made.

  She clinked her glass against his. “Here’s to the big bad world.”

  “The big bad world.” Necking the vile tasting liquid in one.

  “It’s a bit early isn’t it to be quitting, before your O’levels and all? Thought a clever guy like you would do well at exams.”

  “Yeah. Just can’t see the point in them. Didn’t do my old man any harm. He left at fifteen and got a job straight away.”

  Jonny always had that excuse at the back of his mind. He’d not had the conversation with his parents about leaving school. They’d not bothered with parents’ evenings since he was in junior school and seemed too caught up in their own live to work routine to ask how it was going. He took it as general acceptance that school didn’t matter too much. “

  Yeah mine too. Different times though, eh? So what’s next then? You don’t wanna get stuck in this shit hole like me.” She took back his glass and filled it with a different spirit.

  “Well we’ve bagged a gig at the Marquee.”

  “You’re joking! That’s fucking brill. How did you manage that?”

  “Dunno. Perseverance I guess. We’ve been hanging around there a lot, and you know they’re moving to Charring Cross?”

  “Really? Why? They’ve been in Soho for like… forever.”

  “Not sure. New owners maybe? Anyway I think they’ve maybe taken their eye off the ball, sorting out the new place and all that, and they’ve got this band booked in from America but no local support act. So they’ve asked us to do it.”

  “Wow that’s great. You got any freebie tickets?”

  “Not yet, but reckon I should be able to get my hands on some. I’ll let you know.”

  “Do you remember the Guns and Roses gig there last year? That was so awesome.”

  “Yeah we went on the third show. You went on the first one didn’t you?”

  “Yeah. Axl nearly walked off. He got in a right huff about some prats scrapping in the crowd.”

  She scooped the coins off the beer towel into the till, not bothering to count them. Knowing full well it wouldn’t cover the drink bill he had racked up.

  “Good job he didn’t, otherwise they might not have played there again.” He pulled the plug in the sink, the water gurgling noisily down the drain, before slowing to a halt. “We’ve played some of their stuff at gigs. Always gets the crowd going. Especially when Joe thinks he’s Slash.” Jonny picked out a cocktail stick, pushing it into the hole at the bottom of the sink to encourage the water to drain fully.

  She laughed at the image of Joe it conjured up, the Catholic school boy trying to act like a bad boy.

  “He would have been in my year if he’d not had to go a different school. My bestie fancied Joe, but he was so shy with all the girls. Not like that dick head, Simon.”

  “Yeah he’s still shy. You wouldn’t have thought so, having been brought up in a house full of women.” Smiling at early memories of Joe’s mother when Jonny used to call on him. Giving them both a bag of broken biscuits before shooshing them out of her kitchen with a tea towel and telling them not to be back until the street lights went on. She had enough to do with Joe’s baby sisters crawling around everywhere without having those two getting in her way as well.

  “I suppose that’s what an all boys’ school does to you. Didn’t your drummer go there too?”

  “Yeah. He’s a bit lacking with the girls as well.” Jonny registering for the first time how not having attended a mixed school might have been at the root of Badger’s lack of confidence and not the white streak in his hair that was the butt of so many jokes.

/>   “OK I’m done.” Throwing the tea towel into the laundry basket at the end of the bar.

  “Me too.” She quickly rushed around switching off the juke box and bundling up the bar towels.

  Jonny picked up the phone and rang through to the office. “We’re finished. Do you want to come through and cash up?”

  Handing Christine her coat, he noticed the spotty youth’s Harrington jacket had already gone. Shirker!

  He could smell his boss’ recently applied aftershave wafting through to the bar before even seeing him. Giving a wave Jonny walked towards the exit. Christine hurried out in front of Jonny.

  “See you tomorrow,” she shouted to her boss, ignoring the obvious dismay in his face. “Oh and your brother was in earlier. Asked if you can call him.”

  “Do you want a lift Jonny?”

  He paused. “Yeah, thanks.”

  They walked across to the solitary vehicle in the dimly lit car park. She bent down to insert her key into the door lock, got in and reached across to unlock the passenger door. Jonny opened the door, threw her coat over onto the back seat and sat down.

  “You gonna get yourself some wheels soon Jonny?”

  “Yeah just need to get my test passed. My dad’s let me drive his car down on the industrial estate.”

  “Do you wanna go in this?”

  “What now?”

  Christine just smiled and nodded.

  “Yeah, fuck it, why not.”

  Lifting her leg over the gear stick and shifting her body across to the passenger side, she had to grab the handle above the door to hover over Jonny. He lifted his back side up so he could shuffle across into the driver’s seat.