For the love of God. Chris thought, as he deliberately clattered the spoon against the sides of the cup as he stirred in his third sugar. This requires a biscuit. A fig roll at that. He reached for the biscuit jar, knowing full well his fig rolls would be languishing at the bottom. Every other type of biscuit would be gone before he had one, except his precious fig rolls.
It was like everything in the Harrison household as far as he was concerned. The side of the sofa with the biggest occasional table - that was Shirley’s. The choice of what to have for dinner - the order of preference for that was Jonny and then Shirley. What colour he had to paint the living room - that was Shirley’s and sometimes even his mother would get in on the act. He wouldn’t get a look in on anything in their household. "Where do you want to go on holiday this year Chris?” she would ask. “Yeah I thought about going abroad too, but let’s just go to Southend again. We like it there." Why she even asks was beyond him.
That’s why he liked fig biscuits. Nobody else did and he knew they were always there just waiting for him. For him and no-one else.
“Do you want one?” he offered the jar to Shirley.
She glared at him again. He would be in trouble if he didn’t offer her a biscuit and in trouble if he did. He couldn’t win and became resigned to the fact years ago.
“Carry on,” he sighed. Not even able to feign enthusiasm any longer.
“Well you never guess who I saw going in there, just as we were walking out of the Post Office.”
She thinks I’m bloody Mystic Meg now. “Who?” he snapped.
“That Helen, that’s who! And…” She paused for dramatic effect, “she was pushing a pram!” Shirley slapped her hand down on the breakfast bar, highlighting the magnitude of the revelation.
Chris was confused and couldn’t just go along with it; the significance of her pushing a pram was completely lost on him.
“What’s that got to do with anything?” he asked, knowing he had a baffled look on his face.
“That’s what our Jonny was going to come back early from the tour for. Helen had told him she was pregnant. But he wasn’t sure it was his baby she was pregnant with.”
“Hang on. Never mind if it’s his or not. How do you even know the baby’s hers? It could have been anybody’s baby in the pram.”
“Ah well, I managed to come up with an excuse as to why we couldn’t go to the café and I took your mother back home instead. Then after she was all settled with her knitting and the Archers on the radio, I went to the café to see if she was still there. She wasn’t of course, but I know the girl who works behind the counter and I asked her. She’s that nosey cow’s sister.” Pointing across the street, to a neighbour’s house. “Charlotte I think she’s called. Tall with short blonde hair. She came to the New Year’s Eve party we had the other year. Anyway, she told me it was Helen’s. A little boy. Cute with lots of black curly hair she said.”
“It doesn't mean anything. If it was Jonny’s she would have told him about it being his. It’s probably as he said some other fella’s.”
“But the black curly hair?”
“You just told me Helen’s got dark hair. It don’t mean a thing.”
He dipped his biscuit into his tea, licking his lips at the thought of the syrupy delight it would become once it soaked up the hot tea.
“Hmm. I just don’t know if to tell Jonny or not. I nearly did when he rang earlier.”
“What would you go and do that for? If it’s his she would have told him. If you go stirring it up… Well you don’t know what would happen. He’s enjoying life being free and single, he don’t need tying down at his age.”
“You was!”
“Exactly!”
Distracted he lost grip of his fig roll and it sunk to the bottom of his cup. “Bugger!” He threw his tea and the soggy remains of the biscuit into the sink.
Chapter Sixteen
Jonny loved San Francisco. It seemed as if anything was acceptable there. With all ties to his old life in London gone back to the UK, he could be whoever he wanted to be. No-one knew his background or what had shaped him to this point in his life.
Thousands of miles away from home in a foreign country with a couple of friends from Holland. He felt truly international. Free to explore his personality and grow into whatever he wanted to be.
The Karma Life trio rented a two bedroomed apartment on a short term lease. Eliza and Dirk had an apartment together in Amsterdam, so were used to each other’s company and habits. Jonny was easy going and they all seemed to get on fine.
The gigs Karma Life had organised weren’t part of the Record Label arranged tour, so they were on their own. Having to organise their own travel and set up.
It wasn’t that long ago it was normal for Jonny to do this, but he had been spoilt during his time in the States and lugging the equipment around was tough. Arms and back aching from the exercise. His usual routine of going for a five mile run each day was also made more arduous by the San Francisco hills. But he felt healthier. The sea air; the sun; the exercise; the regular love making.
As promised, Eliza took Jonny to the tattoo artist she knew. His studio was close to the Castro area and they stopped for a coffee in one of the many small bars on the way.
“So you’ve been to San Francisco before then?” Jonny placed the two espressos down on the bench.
“No, this is my first time.”
“Oh. I thought you knew this tattoo guy?”
“Yeah I do, from back home. He was in Amsterdam but I saw an article in a gay mag in New York. He moved here last year and apparently he’s got a real good following already.”
Jonny frowned. Why would she be reading a gay magazine? He’d never asked Eliza about that night in her hotel room in New York. He daren’t, in case he got an answer he didn’t like. Promising himself he would make sure the sex she had with him was the best ever. Better than anything he could imagine she could get with another woman.
“Is it gonna hurt then?” He wasn’t afraid, but wanted to be prepared for pain if it was going to be dished out to him.
“Depends where you have it and what your pain threshold is like.” She took her spoon out of her espresso and pressed it on to the back of his hand.
“Ouch!” Retracting his hand underneath the bench and comforting it with his other one.
“Pretty low I’d say,” she chuckled.
“Wait ’til I get you back home.”
“Promises. Promises. What are you going to have done anyway?”
“Wait and see.”
“I was thinking about having one done too.”
“What would you have this time?”
“Wait and see,” she echoed him.
They headed off with their own little artistic secrets to the studio. Jonny was nervously excited, hoping this artist was as good as Eliza said, and it didn’t hurt as much as he now expected it would.
Sat backwards on a chair, his arms folded and rested up on the chair back. He’d been there for nearly an hour and had surveyed every inch of the small room he had been imprisoned in. Studying each and every photo of some of the tattoos previously etched on some poor soul’s skin by this "artist" who was currently torturing him.
When is this ever going to end? He stupidly hadn’t thought about the time it would take to recreate the image from the renaissance art book bought in a second hand book shop earlier that week. An angel with outstretched wings. A majestic figure Jonny had thought would fit perfectly across his shoulders and down his back. Luca, the tattoo artist, whistled when he saw the picture. “Big tattoo for your first one! Brave man!”
Jonny didn’t feel so brave now, but he couldn’t ask Luca to stop. Not in front of Eliza anyway.
She had sat chatting casually to Luca the whole way through. Asking him about life in San Francisco and the mutual friends they had back in the Netherlands. Updating him on the tour and the accident that had sent Kurt back home.
Jonny hadn’t contributed to an
y of the conversation. Zoning out in parts. Worried his voice would have taken on a higher than usual pitch in response to the pain he was feeling. Half wishing Eliza would hold his hand and dig her nails into it, or squeeze his cock. Anything to give another sensation for his pain receptors to deal with.
Luca pushed his chair back from Jonny, peeling off his latex gloves with a snapping sound. “OK that will do for now.”
“For now?” Jonny couldn’t help the nervous frown descending his face.
“Yeah, I’ve finished the outline. We’ll need to make another… maybe two… appointments to fill it in. Here, take a look in the mirror.”
Jonny did as ordered with the hand held mirror Luca gave him. Adjusting it until he could see the reflection from the mirror fixed on the wall behind him.
“Wow.” He was genuinely surprised at how large it was. It also looked quite sore and was bleeding in parts, which he found a little distressing.
It must have shown on his face as Luca recognised his concern. “Don’t worry it’s normal. I’ll put some dressing on it. It’ll probably be sore for a day or two and if there are any scabs don’t scratch at them. Just clean them with plain water. Any problems come back to see me straight away.”
Jonny nodded sheepishly. He was desperate to escape and suggested to Eliza they stop at a bar on the way back to down a couple of JDs. “For medicinal purposes,” he joked, “to take the edge off it.”
“You’d think you were the only one that had ever had a tattoo before,” she mocked him. Lifting her leg up to remind him of the similar sized tattoo she had already.
“Yeah, and I bet you cried like a baby,” he half joked. Knowing full well she wouldn’t have.
Chapter Seventeen
Karma Life were rehearsing the day before the three day festival was to open its gates to the public. They had got used to the crew on their recent tour and it was weird having to work with a generic crew again.
It didn’t take too long to go through their requirements for the next day. A bright sunny morning and Jonny and Eliza decided to take the opportunity to walk through the site and up the hillside to check out the view from Twin Peaks.
Dirk knew by now when to make himself scarce and went off in the opposite direction to flirt with some girls he had seen on their way in. They were essentially a dance troupe, but they weirdly dressed up like a circus act. Booked to perform at various points over the weekend and entertain the festival goers as they entered the site.
It was a steep climb up the hill and half way they decided to sit down and drink a couple of the cans of beer they had lugged up the hill with them. The view was spectacular. There was no fog that morning and they could see right across to the magnificent Golden Gate Bridge. Its vermillion paint radiant in the sun.
Eliza half closed her eyes and pinched the bridge between her thumb and finger, wincing like it was a red hot poker which had been placed in a coal fire.
She laid back, knees bent and closed her eyes. “Life’s good.”
“Sure is,” agreed Jonny who was laid on his side, his elbow bent and his head resting on his hand. Staring, as he so often did, at the perfect face of his angel. “So what’s next?”
It was an ambiguous question and he was interested to hear on what level she chose to answer.
She squinted, trying to open her eyes, the emerald flecks emblazoned by the sun. Turning onto her side, she mirrored his repose. “You know how I like to take it one day at a time. Let’s just enjoy this for a while.”
He reached forward and took a strand of her hair winding it around his finger before pushing it back behind her ear. Leaning into her he kissed her softly. Silently accepting her request to appreciate what they’ve got. There was no way he was going to sour any moment with Eliza by being impatient.
They each opened another beer and sat surveying the San Francisco vista for a while longer before looking up at the summit and the gathering tourists.
“Shall we go back down?” suggested Eliza.
Jonny agreed, not wanting to share the breathtaking view with anyone other than her.
They ran down the hillside like a couple of children. Legs running faster than they were able to keep up with. Landing in a giggling heap at the bottom of the hill. They laid for a while catching their breath, before half-heartedly searching for Dirk back in the grounds of the festival site.
Dirk was long gone; he didn’t come home that night either. Eliza and Jonny joked about how many of the dance troupe Dirk had gone home with. Eliza bet it was all five of them. Jonny couldn’t believe any of them would fall for Kurt’s chat up lines. He had heard some of them and their cheesiness cracked him up every time.
Dirk reappeared the next morning full of beans, but wouldn’t elaborate on the preceding nights antics. Even when Jonny and Eliza toyed with him. Coming up with all sorts of scenarios that got more and more surreal the more they thought of. Still Dirk wouldn’t reveal any details.
They were playing at the festival on the first of its three day duration. Jonny’s first experience of an open air gig and he was shocked at how bad his guitar sounded.
He sidled back to Dirk on the drums. “What’s going on? It sounds terrible. Really flat.”
“Trust the sound guy. It’ll sound fine out there.”
Jonny looked to the sound engineer, who gave him the thumbs up. He relaxed and carried on with the set. Looking out to the audience he became quite distracted at how a large part of them were sat around talking and drinking. Some even asleep. When a large group got up mid song and wandered off to another stage he felt like jumping down and telling them not to be so rude.
Eliza and Dirk were used to it. They’d played festivals before and were more interested in hanging around for the next couple of days.
“What’s not to like?” asked Dirk rhetorically. “Free entry and a split payment for the gig. The weather’s great too. Look at all the girls in their shorts and skimpy tops. I’d pay to be here.”
Dirk was right the festival was a perfect tonic. Drinking beer outside, smoking joints and dozing in the late summer sun, live music playing in the background. Perfect.
***
Jonny was going to the tattooist alone that morning. Eliza was in no rush to get out of bed sleeping off the hangover from the previous day’s festival antics. Jonny knew where the studio was now anyway, so left her sleeping.
He had been waiting for ten minutes outside the studio for Luca to turn up. Like Eliza, Luca was obviously not a morning person either. Barely able to string two words together when he got there. Moaning something about not having had time for a coffee.
“Shall I grab a couple of take outs from the café whilst you get set up?” suggested Jonny.
“Yeah, go on then.” Luca waggled his shoulders as if to loosen up.
When Jonny returned Luca seemed in a much better disposition. Good. Jonny didn’t want him taking his mood out on his tattoo.
Luca got started colouring in the angel. The pain wasn’t nearly as severe as the outlining Jonny had endured on the previous occasion. More of a prickle moving quickly across his shoulder blades and down his spine. Jonny even found the buzzing noise quite soporific this time around.
“So how long have you known Eliza?” Luca asked.
“About a year now.”
“That’s good going for Eliza.”
“What do you mean?” Jonny asked naively.
“How would you put it? Erm - she’s not one for relationships? Not long term ones anyway. Did you know her parents died when she was young?”
“Yeah, she told me.”
“I think that’s the problem. It’s as if she pushes people away when they get too close. Probably afraid of forming a relationship and … well, losing them. Like she did her parents. You’re doing well if you’ve been together for a year.”
“Well not together for a year, but…” Jonny didn’t know what to say. He hoped they would be together forever, but talking about the future was one of Eliza�
��s taboos. Probably her only taboo. Nothing else seemed out of bounds. “Has Eliza booked in to have another tattoo with you?”
“No, but she did say she wanted to get a tattoo of a guitar done. Think she’s gone off the idea now though.”
“A guitar?”
“Yeah a particular one too.” Luca stopped branding Jonny and wheeled across on his chair to the stylised graffiti covered chest of drawers. Opening the top drawer, he pulled out a notepad. Flipping through the pages to find the notes he had made. “A 1977 Fender Precision, four string. In red. I was going to do some research on how it looked, but didn’t bother when she said she wasn’t interested anymore.”
Jonny instantly recognised it as his guitar and wondered why she wanted it as a tattoo. Then immediately questioned why she had changed her mind and didn’t now want his guitar tattooed on her. The needle started to hurt again. Jonny had endured enough for today.
“Are we nearly done?”
“Yeah pretty much. I’ve done all the base colours, just need to finish off with some highlighting. We can do that next time if you want?”
“Sounds good.” Jonny pulled his t-shirt over his head and carefully over his back.
He was deep in thought as he walked back to the apartment. Why did he feel like he needed a commitment from Eliza? He usually felt like she did. Carefree. If it was good stay with it, if not move on. Helen was the perfect example of that. In the beginning it was good, but as she became more controlling he felt the need to break free. He just couldn’t bear the thought of life without Eliza. Knowing he couldn’t scare her off; he would just have to make it good enough so she wanted to stay.
Not concentrating, he had lost his way and was now in an area of the Castro he hadn’t been to before. Still the usual array of hair salons, fancy delicatessens and bohemian boutiques. It was just he didn’t recognise any of them.
Falling for his ANGEL_A Rock Star Romance Page 12
