by Lesley Jones
Copyright 2015 Lesley Jones
All Rights Reserved
This is a work of fiction. Any references to real events, real people, and real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and incidents are products of the Author’s imagination and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, organisations or places is entirely coincidental.
All rights are reserved. This book is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the express written permission of the Author. All songs, song titles and lyrics contained in this book are the property of the respective songwriters and copyright holders.
Cover design, Formatting & Editing, by Rebel Edit & Design
Cover image Copyright 2015
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Marley
GLOSSARY OF TERMS
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
EPILOGUE
PLAY LIST
AUTHOR BIO
DEDICATION
For my brother.
I hope in death, you’ve found the peace that eluded you in life.
I’m sorry that as your big sister I couldn’t save you.
I’ll love you forever but never will I understand why.
GLOSSARY OF TERMS
The following is a glossary of terms which have been used throughout this book. These euphemisms and slang words form part of the United Kingdom’s spoken word, which is the basis of this book’s writing style.
Please remember, that the words are not misspelled, they are slang terms and are part of the everyday, United Kingdom and Australian lifestyle. This book has been written using UK English.
If you would like further explanation, or to discuss the translation or meaning of a particular word, please do not hesitate to contact the author – contact details have been provided, for your convenience, at the end of this book.
I hope you enjoy a look into the United Kingdom way of life.
Arsed; Can’t be bothered doing something.
Bespoke; Created especially for someone, in the same way that you say custom
Bird; A young woman
Bib/Bibbed; To honk your horn
Bloody; Swearword originating in England, used in the middle of words/phrases to emphasize meaning - be it good, sarcastic or bad
Blower; Telephone
Bog; Toilet
Bogies; A piece of dried mucus discharged from the nose
Bollocking; When one is lectured, criticised or reprimanded
Bollocks; Generally indicates contempt for a certain task, subject or opinion, also used in place of bull shit.
Brass; Prostitute.
Charlie; Cocaine
Divvy; A fool or idiot.
Faffing; To spend time on a non-productive activity; "to waste time".
Fuckeration; The meaning is that whatever you have gotten yourself into, it is one holy fucked up, fuckeration of a mess.
Gaff; House or place.
Gissit; ‘Give Us It’ or just ‘Give It’.
Gobby; Talkative.
Gregory; Cockney rhyming slang: Gregory Peck – neck.
Give us a bell/ I’ll bell ya; Call me/I’ll call you
Hark; Look at you, or listen to you.
Mate; Buddy or a friend.
Motor; Car
Narna; To get very angry or to lose it.
Mildred; Vagina
Fanny; Vagina
Off My Tits; To be VERY much under the influence of a substance. Most commonly used as either an excuse or a conversation starter.
Off License; A shop licensed to sell alcoholic beverages for consumption off the premises.
Plonked; Meaning to put something down, unceremoniously.
Scooby; Clue.
Shag; To have sex, or get your fuck on, to score, get some, hit it, tap it, do it.
Shitfaced; Under the influence of drugs or alcohol.
Skin Up; To make a cannabis cigarette.
Soundo; This is London slang for asleep. It derives from the phrase "sound asleep" thus "soundo".
Stellar; A word used when something is outstanding or immense.
Summit; A lazy way of saying ‘something’
Swanning; Posing or posturing around.
Take/ing the Piss; To take liberties at the expense of others, or to be unreasonable. To mock or make fun of.
Tarted Up; To improve the appearance of something.
Telly; Television.
Tits Up; Something that is no longer functioning or working.
Tuppence Worth; Phrase used when someone has brought all the evidences to support his point of view.
Vest; Tank Top/Singlet
Whaz; Urinate
Whizz; Speed
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
This has been the hardest book I’ve ever written. So many times my heart told me to walk away but my head kept telling me ‘you’ve got this’.
I didn’t want to just write words, I wanted to do Marley justice and write him the story that he deserved. It was all there, just stuck in my head, not wanting to escape. I would open my lap top on a daily basis and just stare at the screen. So for a little while, I walked away. I forgot about getting Marley and his words down and instead retold and rewrote his story in my head, all day, every day, until he just would not shut up. Then I went back to my lap top and suddenly five thousand, eight thousand, even twelve thousand words a day started happening, until one day, it was done.
I hope I did him justice. I know that not everyone is gonna be happy. I know that some will want more. More Marley, more Maca, more Georgia, or more Cam but this is Marley’s story and he told it the way that he wanted it.
Thank you to all of my readers that have waited so patiently for this book. Thank you for your words of sympathy on the death of my brother and your words of encouragement when my words just weren’t happening.
I’ve been fortunate this year to travel around the world and meet so many of you. Your passion for my writing will never cease to blow me away. You humble me each and every day.
Thank you to all of you that take part in our crazy discussions in my groups and my amazing admin team that run them, making sure that everyone plays nice and that we manage to keep both the spoilers and the spammers away.
To my beta’s, I thank you for your time and your feedback. I know I don’t listen to all of it but I am getting better at taking constructive criticism and direction... sorta.
To Dana for working her arse off to get this over the line and out to you in such a short space of time and Margreet for once again producing yet another amazing cover and teasers, I thank and salute you both. You can find these girls @ http://www.rebeleditdesign.com/
To all of the other authors I have had the pleasure to meet and connect with over the last year, thank you for letting me be a
part of your community, I’m truly honoured to be considered a colleague and to some, a friend.
To all the bloggers out there that have my back a million and one percent, I thank you. My career would not exist without you.
To my amazing Pain in Arse Jen, what can I say? What a year, what a bloody year! We finally got to meet in person, drink wine, travel and meet readers, drink wine, share hotel rooms and drink wine. One day we will remember what was so funny at 2am in Montreal.
I can’t thank you enough for the hospitality that you and Tai showed by welcoming me into your home and letting me stay in Princess Maddy’s pink palace. I can only hope that you and he are still keeping up with the casual cunting and using it as your fave term of endearment for each other.
Last but by no means least, thank you once again to my family. You should all be pretty used to dealing with the crazy unwashed lady that can quite often be found tapping away on her keyboard, locked away somewhere in your home, but I thank you regardless. Thanks for muddling through and getting on with things in my absence and dealing with my trips overseas.
To my husband, my rock, my Tiger, thanks for holding the fort and allowing me to travel and meet so many of my readers this year. Thank you for mopping, vacuuming, grocery shopping and doing all of the other things I fail miserably at whilst hiding away in my cave or flying around the world. Most of all I’d like to thank you for putting up with all of my bull shit and bollocks and for dealing with life when I can’t face it. I love you.
MARLEY
A CARNAGE NOVEL
From the author of Carnage 1&2, comes this follow up novel. Marley tells the story of Carnage from Marley Layton’s POV. It will give you the missing years.
Marley is a companion novel to Carnage 1&2 and both of those books should be read first.
‘So, they want me to write a book? They want to know about my band, my life, my loves and my losses. But they have no idea what they’re asking for. If I give them what they want, they’ll get so much more than the sex and drugs and the rock and roll they’re expecting. They’ll get the secrets that I’ve kept for so long, they’ll get an insight into the person I really am, or at least was. They think they know my story, they know nothing.
If I do this, if I write honestly and give them the ugly truth, people will get hurt. People that I love, people that have already suffered in the worst possible ways.
Do I do this, or do I walk away? Taking my secrets to the grave.’
Marley is an adult contemporary romance. It contains content suitable only for grownups with an open mind. There are scenes of group sex which include m/f/m a little bit of f/m/m and even some f/f/f/m/m/f/f/f. There is drinking and drug taking involved. A lot of swearing, some Essex slang and some very high emotion. Please don’t complain after reading this book that you wasn’t warned.
And yes, of course you’ll need tissues.
PROLOGUE
I wipe the steam from the mirror with the palm of my hand, clearing it enough to see my reflection, resting my elbows on the granite counter and lean forward. Taking in my image, I rake my hand through my hair, then over the stubble on my chin. My eyes are bloodshot from the weed we smoked earlier, the after effects of which have also left me feeling decidedly depressed.
I stood in the shower and cried tonight for the first time in a long time over the death of my best friend, my bandmate, and my brother-in-law, Maca.
So pointless.
So tragic.
So unfair.
Drawing in a deep breath, I leave the steamy solitude of the bathroom and head for our dressing room, passing the sleeping form of my wife, my rock, on the way.
I smile at the thought of having a dressing room, feeling like a stupid fuck as I do. Of all the material things that money, fame, and fortune have blessed our lives with, this dressing room makes me feel like a horny teenager in a sex shop. It’s the sort of room I dreamt of as a kid, back when I was thirteen or fourteen, trying to imagine what it would be like if Carnage made it big. I never imagined having one like this though, on property that I never thought I would be able to afford ... to own.
Ashley’s clothes are lined up along one side and mine along the other, with everything broken down by style and colour. In the middle, we both have a mechanical shoe carousel that moves from floor to ceiling. Ashley’s shoes take up her entire carousel, along with three quarters of my space. I’ve also noticed that a few of her winter coats have managed to sneak their way over to my side. The woman has fifty feet of wall space for hanging her gear, and another twenty for all her knickers and bra’s she insists she needs and still, she needs more room.
It’s not that I mind. She can have whatever she likes. She’s my world and I would give and do anything for her.
At the end of the room there are two full-length mirrors that tilt and unfold so that you can see yourself from all angles. In the centre is a tacky, Hollywood-style mirror, complete with lights around the edges. In front of it is the kind of sink a hairstylist would use, with a chair that leans back. All of Ashley’s crap surrounds the surfaces on either side of the sink: make-up, face cream, hair shit. I have no idea what ninety percent of it is, or what it does—nothing, as far as I can tell. You can’t improve on perfection and my wife is perfect. She’s stunningly beautiful, has curves in all the right places, and she’s so much more than I could ever deserve— so much more.
I pull on a pair of boxers and the automatic lighting turns off as I leave the room. I laugh to myself at the full-on description I’ve just run through of our dressing room. In case you couldn’t tell, I love that fucking room.
As quietly as I can, I take my sneaky stash pack of cigarettes and lighter from the chest of drawers next to my side of the bed.
Ash will give me shit if she catches me smoking. She makes an allowance for a few joints on occasion, but she hates me smoking cigarettes. It’s been an emotional few days and I need one, maybe two, to calm my nerves.
Ash has never smoked and thankfully, neither do any of my kids ... well, not cigarettes at least. I’ve caught Joe with a joint a couple of times, but the boy’s twenty-four so what can I do? I’ve given him the talk—warning him of the dangers of hard drugs—but I don’t know how much more I can do. I know, considering my past, that it’s highly hypocritical of me to lecture him, but at the end of the day, I’m his dad and it’s my job. Besides, what I did when I was younger is irrelevant. He does as I say, not as I do, or did. Yeah, I’m a pretty strict parent—who’d have thought?
I slip quietly out onto the balcony, closing the doors behind me and light up. I lean one hand on the railing and bring the cigarette to my lips with the other, drawing in the much needed smoke into my lungs. I know it’s a filthy habit. I know the toxins and chemicals can kill me, but the pleasure I’m receiving from the little stick of poison right now, I couldn’t care less.
Ash has never been a nag. She’s never really got on my case about things, but she hates me smoking.
Fifty. I’ll be turning fifty next year, and I’m grateful for every day that I’ve managed to stay alive. I let out a long breath as images of the life I’ve led, the things I’ve seen, people I’ve met, and places I’ve visited, rush through my mind. I’ve done some stupid shit in my time, and I mean some really stupid shit.
Goosebumps erupt over my skin and I shiver. It’s a beautiful, warm summer’s evening—the kind that reminds me of the long school summer holidays we enjoyed as kids—days when the sun always seemed to shine and the air smelt of fresh cut grass. We thought we were invincible back then. All that mattered was the music, practising our next cover, and attempting to write our next song. We thought we knew everything, thought that we would live forever, but obviously we knew fuck all.
The damn breaks again and I grip my hair, trying to quiet the loud sobs that are escaping. I hear the door click behind me and turn to see Ash staring at me.
“Babe?”
I turn away from her, gripping the rail as another sob escape
s.
“Oh Marls, I knew this would happen. I warned you, didn’t I?” She’s not accusing, just stating a fact. She did warn me. She knows me better than I know myself and I love her for it. Her naked front pushes into my bare back and her arms slide underneath mine, wrapping around me.
“Talk to me, Marls. Please, don’t shut me out.”
I turn and face her, pulling her in tight and breathing in the scent of the woman I’ve loved for twenty-five years. She’s one of the very few things that I haven’t fucked up in my life, not since the early days anyway. She’s loved me at my worst, stood by my side, and pulled me back from the brink so many times I’ve lost count, but she still doesn’t know all my deepest, darkest secrets—most, but not all.
“It hurts, Ash. It still fucking hurts so much,” I say into her hair. The smell of her shampoo calms my racing heart.
“Of course it does, especially on nights like tonight, when you’ve been talking about him and remembering all the good times.” She pauses for a few seconds and I know she’s struggling not to cry herself.
“It’s normal, Marls, you just need to let it out. Don’t bottle it up like you used to. Just let me in and the tears out.”
She takes my hand and leads me back inside the bedroom and over to our bed.
“Get in and give me a cuddle. You’ve shut me out these past few weeks and I’ve missed ya.”
I let out a long sigh as I climb into bed, feeling guilty because she’s right.
I’ve spent the last few weeks practising for this year’s Triple M concert with Conner Reed, lead guitarist for Shift. Because of the tragedy his band has recently endured, we thought it would be a good idea to collaborate and bring in some extra revenue for the charities we support while at the same time, commemorate and celebrate our lost bandmates.
This will be the thirteenth year we have held the event and it’s gone from strength to strength. The diversity of the charities we raise awareness and money for keeps a broad selection of the public interested. Despite Maca being gone fourteen years this December, there are still a lot of Carnage fans out there who turn out every year to support the cause, and I couldn’t be more proud of what we’ve managed to achieve between Georgia, Len, and myself.
