“Shit, sorry,” he mumbled as their clumsy seat swapping manoeuvre continued, aware that he was rubbing himself against her backside, making him aroused.
Attempting to clear his mind by focusing on starting the car. Yanking the gear stick into reverse, he drove out of the car park and into the deserted road. Christine leant across his lap to switch the headlights on; her ample bosom squidging into his arm and nearly setting him off again. He checked the mirror, changed gear and pushed his foot down on the accelerator making the car lurch clumsily forward.
“So will you remember me when you’re a big shot?” She placed her palm on his thigh and lightly started caressing it.
He laughed. “Sure, but hopefully for the right reason and not because we ended up in hospital when you caused me to crash your car.” Taking his hand off the steering wheel momentarily to lift her’s from his leg.
“Spoil sport!” she chuckled, crossing her arms in fake protest.
Chapter Four
“Are you sure we should start with Come on Over?” Joe asked, peaking a freckled nose through the curtains.
“Why? What’s wrong with you, pussy?” Jonny bounced up and down, flicking his head from side to side. Harnessing the nervous energy and loosening his body. “I’ll play the solo if you’re not up to it?”
“No, it’s not that…” Joe put a hand down to his jeans and checked the fly was zipped up for the umpteenth time.
“Look, we’ve got to hit it hard early on. If there’s any scouts out there tonight, they’ll be moving onto other gigs if we don’t impress from the start. Anyway the set list is decided. Here… I’ve written it down for each of you.” Simon handed around pieces of paper neatly handwritten with the six songs they intended to play.
“There’s not many out there Simon.” Badger used his drum sticks to widen the gap in the curtains.
“Don’t worry. It’s early doors. We’ve got some decent regulars that will come along. It’s a good venue. Better than where they usually come to see us. They’re probably as excited as us.” Simon had an answer for everything.
“And I bet they will stay all night to see Crazy Horse. They’re pretty tight,” Jonny added. Feeling knowledgeable after listening to their latest album over the last couple of weeks.
“Hey! Do you reckon that’s one over there, near the front?” Badger pointed a stick at a middle aged guy with a leather suit style jacket, hands stuffed in his front jean pockets.
“What an agent?” Simon pushed Badger out of the way. “More likely to be the chick to the right of him.” Nodding in the direction of a thirty-something blonde.
“Fuck me!” drooled Jonny who had joined the curtain peakers. “I bloody hope so!”
The MC introduced the band and they ran out onto the stage. Jonny tripping over his guitar pedal. It was the only mistake he made that night. His performance was flawless and mainly aimed at one person in the audience. The blonde.
Crash were so hyped coming off the stage. Chattering away and leaping around like toddlers at a free play session. “That was fucking awesome!” They congratulated each other with high fives before heading off to the bar.
Jonny could see the blonde coming straight to them, pushing through the crowd of mainly men who tended to loiter in the bar at gigs like this. Men who had given over their life to being a rocker. Having to choose manual jobs instead of office ones, so their long hair wasn’t frowned upon. Dress code preventing them from entering fancy restaurants or nightclubs. Having to drive meaty sounding cars, or preferably motorbikes, instead of modern hot hatches. Suffering on the hottest day of the year because their uniform was jeans or leather trousers. Drinking pints of lager or bitter instead of wine and never, ever orange juice. Smoking - just because. He could tell she wasn’t fazed by men like that.
“Hey guys. I’m Shelley Crabb. Tour promotor. Great set. You signed up with anyone yet?” Obviously preferring to get straight to the point. Realising there was no reason to beat around the bush with these youngsters. The cards were stacked in her favour and if they didn’t want what she was prepared to offer… well there was likely to be plenty more who did. She made no bones about having a job to do, and her job as a scout was clearly to get in there first and tie down any upcoming talent before someone else did.
They shook their heads in unison. Jonny deciding instantly she wasn’t as attractive close up as he thought. Hoping she wasn’t going to come on to him after all the eye contact he had been making from the stage.
“No? OK good, let’s have a chat over a beer then.”
They backed up into one of the booths near the rear of the bar, where they wouldn’t be interrupted.
“So Crazy Horse have a European tour next month and I’m looking for local support bands in each of the countries they’re playing.” Figuring the interested look on their faces meant they understood what she was getting at, she continued. “So how do you fancy being the UK support band? Your expenses will be covered.”
Jonny was quick to respond. “Yeah sounds good.”
“Hang on. We’ll have to think about it.” Simon, trained in negotiation by his father, stepped in.
She smiled, picking out a card from a wallet from the inside pocket of her designer hand bag. She stood up, offering her ‘promotor’ entitled business card to Simon. “Give me a bell tomorrow and let me know if you want the chance.” She walked off, consciously over-swaying her backside. The band hypnotised by the view, waited until she had exited the bar before discussing her offer.
“What have we got to lose?” asked Jonny of the rest of the band.
“Well… you’ve got nothing to lose Jonny.” Simon’s thick fringe shimmied across his forehead. “It’s not like you’ve got a job or anything.”
“Well what the hell are we doing this for then?” Jonny rose. “I thought the whole point was to get a record deal - or a signing - or something.”
“Duh! This isn’t a proper deal. We’re not likely to get paid much. And…” looking down at her card for verification, “she doesn’t actually work for a label or anything.” Simon’s dancing fringe was off the scale now.
Jonny took a deep breath and sat down, conscious his stance was adding to the tension. “She said they’ll cover our expenses though.” Calming his tone of voice, he added, “Just think of the ride, man. How we supposed to make it if we don’t take a punt?”
After a few seconds Joe broke the silence. “Well, I’m in.” Reinforcing a rare moment of boldness by placing his empty pint glass forcefully on the table.
“Me too," echoed Badger, looking nervously at Simon.
“Just you then Simon.” Jonny folded his arms.
Without agreement, Simon let out a dramatic huff, before escaping to the toilets.
Chapter Five
It had been a long day. Twelve hours holed up in Badger’s garage trying to get the new stuff they had written to sound right.
Simon had brought along the latest copy of the NME and the press releases the promoter had sent him about their up and coming tour with Crazy Horse. It was all getting very real and they were both nervous and excited.
They all joined in the blaming game. Each pointing the finger at the other for not practicing enough. They were about to unleash their new songs and stage show at the local university the next day and didn’t feel ready.
The trips to the kitchen to warm up cheesy filled pancakes and other nutrition-less snacks were getting more frequent. Guitar strings kept snapping and lyrics increasingly forgotten. They needed to call it a day before they killed each other.
Why had they spent the last three weeks pumping iron instead of practicing chords? Sure, Jonny was impressed with how quickly his muscles had responded but he was regretting it now he couldn’t play any of the new songs right through without error.
Badger had hardly played a full session with them either. The tattoos making him wince whenever he raised his arms above his head. It didn’t matter how much Shelley had convinced him he looked th
e part he just felt wounded.
***
Jonny looked out with irreverence at the heaving student bar. Cheap beer and student grants being necked simultaneously. God knows how they have the capacity to learn anything.
He spotted Helen with a small group of her friends. Seeing her made him want to scratch at the hair that had been caught up in the oversized handkerchief she had tied around his head. There was no way he looked like Axl Rose, more like some dweeb. Who did she think she was? A princess giving her suitor a favour before a joust?
Their new repertoire was a little bit off. The flow wasn’t quite right and in between songs Simon would turn his back to the audience and gaud one or all of them. None of it was ever his fault of course. Simon had a real issue with criticism. A lesson in life his father had obviously not bestowed on him. Sulking if Crash didn’t react in awe at his ideas or failed to carry out instructions to the letter.
The combination of being wound up by Simon and the heat in the room made Jonny’s scalp itch even more. Bloody bandana!
He snatched it off and launched it into the crowd. One of their groupies at the front jumped up to catch it. With a squeal of delight, she held it to her nose to inhale his scent and then wound it around her wrist.
Helen of course saw this. Re-gifting at its very worst. Lips pursed and cheeks burning at the metaphorical slap in the face, she stormed out of the gig pushing over a couple of the inebriated students on the way.
Jonny faltered for a moment and lost his timing. Simon leapt across the stage to him, grabbing the head of the microphone in his hands to keep the derogatory remarks private.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing. Get your act together!” he hissed.
Jonny stepped on the mic lead, so when Simon skipped to the other side of the stage the microphone pulled out of his hand onto the floor with a reverberating thud. Jonny moving back from the crime scene, acting as if it had nothing to do with him.
Childish. Yes, he knew that, but he couldn’t help himself. Simon definitely brought out the worst in him.
Chapter Six
Jonny whistled. “Shit, it’s gonna be a sell-out!” Reading out the update from the tour promotor. “Crazy Horse started their tour in Germany where there's apparently a lot of pretty hardcore rock fans. It says it was a pumped up start, reviews have been positive and ticket sales for the British leg have soared.”
Simon snatched the letter from Jonny and continued reading it out loud. “It says Crazy Horse are coming to the UK next week as planned. Looks like this meeting is so Shelley can check everything’s sorted before they get here.”
“I can read you know!” Jonny jumped up. “I’m going to get some fresh air.”
He sat on the wall outside, watching the late afternoon sun go down behind the wall of conifer trees.
“Peter.” Jonny acknowledged Simon’s father who he had just watched try to park his 1960’s Mercedes in a space far too small, before heading down the road to find somewhere more accommodating.
“Alright Jonny. Are they inside?”
“Yep.”
“Is Shelley here yet?”
“Nope.”
“Well come in then and we’ll agree whose saying what.”
“I’ll be there soon. Just finishing this.” Jonny held up his cigarette. He wasn’t jumping to Peter’s beck and call, and he would say whatever he wanted. Simon’s father had his own business and ‘knew people’. This usually meant he could get hold of a van to take their kit from one gig to the next, but to Jonny’s annoyance, he often implied it meant much more.
Before Jonny finished his cigarette, Shelley arrived in a cab. Looking glamorous as ever, Jonny flirted with her. Just a little. He opened the door and invited her to go through first to the waiting band.
“Hey guys. You all look so cool. Glad you took my advice about polishing up the look.” Giving them all a little clap. “And who are you, handsome?” Pouting her lips at Simon’s dad before reaching forward and slowly moving her perfectly polished finger nail down his jacket collar; acting like she had seen it all before and wasn’t put off by his presence.
Over-awed by the overt way in which she had flirted with him, he nervously patted his comb-over.
“I’m... I’m Peter. Simon’s fa-father. I’m representing the band’s interest.”
The fringe had now been passed on fully to his son. A bald patch in the middle of Peter's head had spread at an alarming rate over the last couple of years. In desperation he had resorted to growing a lengthy piece of hair on the left side of his head which he plastered across the centre with Brylcreem. It took the slightest breeze to pitch it upright and then over to the side it came from. Highlighting, rather than disguising, the baldness he refused to embrace.
“Oh, that’s sooo sweet.”
She was definitely on the charm offensive. Peter not quite sure what she was referring to, but hoping it wasn’t his hair style.
Turning her attention to the band, she removed a folio from her oversized bag come briefcase.
“We’ve got just ten minutes to run through the plan.” Emphasising the point by tapping her diamond studded Chanel watch before relaying the arrangements to the band. “So…,” she ran her eyes rapidly over the itinerary typed out on the paper. “Crazy Horse and their European support band are coming across on the fifth and they’re staying at the Intercontinental on Park Lane. We’ve arranged a pre-tour press party for the sixth at the hotel and…. you’re invited.” Purposely pointing at each one of the band, and not Peter. “Just two rules guys. Don’t get wasted and… don’t hit on the girlfriends. Crazy Horse will not look kindly on that!”
The band were grinning from ear to ear as they exchanged looks and nods. A party, and they were invited.
“The first show is at the Marquee on the Friday. I’m presuming you know the set up there?” Waiting momentarily for acknowledgement she continued. “The road crew will sort the equipment during the afternoon and sound check will start at four o’clock sharp. They’ll get around to you as soon as they can. The running order is you, Karma Life and then Crazy Horse. Your set is at eight and it’s thirty minutes, no more and no less. There’ll be no time for a drum kit change, and mic’s, pedals et cetera will be laid out for you. The crew are not there to pamper to your needs; you’ll have to sort yourselves out. It goes without saying, you need to be at least as good as last time. And…I’ve been following your progress in the last few weeks so all looks hunky dory.” She closed the folio to signify the end of the instructions.
Obviously didn’t hear about the University gig then, thought Jonny.
“What about the dosh?” asked Peter, jumping in so abruptly he looked as if he surprised himself.
“Dosh? Ah yeah, don’t worry about that babes. Like I said before all expenses will be covered. This is the platform the band deserve. It’ll all come in time.”
“So don’t they get anything upfront? You would think with ticket sales going the way they are, there would be something for them. Maybe a door split deal or something too.”
Simon, and fringe, nodding with encouragement.
“Now-now, sweet Pete. You don’t wanna go and spoil it for them now, do you? This is their break.” A less than sweet look descending upon her face.
Jonny stood up conscious that a line had been crossed with Shelley. Joe and Badger looked down uncomfortably at their feet. “Yeah Pete, Shelley’s right, this is our break, don’t spoil it.”
“Cool.” Shelley picked up her belongings. “Gotta run!”
As soon as she was out of ear shot, Simon turned to Jonny, his top lip snarling and blackened eyes popping out from underneath the fringe. “What the hell was that?”
“Nothing man. Just trying to keep the peace.” Avoiding Simon’s furious gaze, Jonny started picking at imaginary dirt under his finger nails with his plectrum.
“Look, we agreed my dad was going to do all the talking. Sort us out a deal. And you… well you ruined it, jumping in at
the end.” His face patchy with rage.
“Sure. Right.” Jonny nonchalantly brushing the comment off with a shrug of his shoulders.
“Come on son.” Peter gently pushed Simon up. He seemed less than comfortable with his own performance during the negotiations and quite clearly didn’t feel up to sorting this disagreement out. He walked out with his arm around his son, talking into his ear as he went. Joe and Badger following silently at a distance.
***
Jonny thought the press party at the Intercontinental was a bit tame. More professional and certainly more sober than he had imagined, with Shelley and others from the promotion company carefully orchestrating the events that evening. The bar staff had apparently been warned against giving them too much to drink; evident by the roaming waiters stopping with their champagne laden silver trays at everyone but them.
Crazy Horse were happy to talk about key influences, favoured equipment and song inspirations with the music press. Any personal questions were answered with polish and obvious rehearsal.
All the non-music journalists looked really quite bored. Jonny was sure the tabloid press would rather feed off bad boy antics most of the American rock groups usually displayed at parties. There was nothing like a “coke snorting, pissing in the champagne bucket and screwing one of the band’s infamous girlfriends in the ladies’ loo” type party to spice up a boring Wednesday night edition of whichever paper they wrote for. If they had an inkling beforehand that Crazy Horse were not going to live up to their reputation they would have planted Jonah Hill there themselves.
Crazy Horse must have turned a corner. Too long in the tooth for those naive headlines. The libel suits and expensive first wives’ divorces had been an ice bath awakening for them. They did as they were told now. Out of rehab and into repairing their bank balances. More recently girlfriends had been picked for their sober and intelligent pastimes as well as their size zero figures and fake boobs.
It was probably a good thing the party was tame though. The next day was full on for Jonny, spending the morning at Badger’s rehearsing with the rest of the band. Cleaning, waxing, restringing and tuning his guitar. None of them could afford to be anything less than perfect at tonight’s debut performance.
Falling for his ANGEL_A Rock Star Romance Page 3
