Duplicity

by Lisa J. Hobman

  We continued to walk along, but it was clear there was purpose to her steps. She evidently had a destination in mind—somewhere she was leading me. We ambled to the bottom of the Royal Mile where the stark geometry of the new parliament building faced us. From here, we turned left, cutting through to Calton Road, the crowds lessening as we moved away from the familiar tourist trails.

  Eventually, we walked through wrought iron gates into Old Calton burial ground. Star released my hand and glanced around with a serene smile on her beautiful face.

  I chuckled and shook my head. “Well, it’s official. You. Are. Weird.” I couldn’t help thinking that of all the places to go with your new love, a graveyard seemed right up there as a location not to choose.

  She shrugged. “Hmm. I think I’d prefer interesting, quirky, or maybe even mysterious rather than weird.” There was mirth in her eyes.

  “No, Mendoza, you can’t sugar coat this. You’re just plain weird.” I stepped toward her and slipped my arm around her waist before tenderly kissing her head. “But I adore you for it.”

  Star smiled up at me with a mischievous look glinting in her chocolate brown eyes.

  “I love this place,” she mused. “It’s hauntingly beautiful, and an oasis of calm in such a busy city.”

  I’d never really thought of a graveyard full of dead bodies as peaceful. But as I said, this was what she did. She made me see things through her eyes.

  Although, I couldn’t resist teasing her. “Haunting, yes. Beautiful? Hmm, I’m not so sure about that.” I cast my assessing gaze over the multitude of headstones and mausoleums. She was right about it being an oasis. Even though we were in the heart of the city, it somehow felt like we were somewhere miles away. No road noise, no car fumes, no people. Well, none that were rushing around us, anyway.

  She let out a wistful sigh. “I love coming here. The atmosphere of the place changes throughout the day, and some of my best images have been captured here.” Enthusiasm radiated from her like sunlight, and I found myself caught up in the moment, appreciating the intricate stone carvings and the loving care that people clearly still took over the resting places of their loved ones.

  I mentally went through the catalogue of Star’s work that I had seen, but for the life of me, I couldn’t remember seeing any pictures of this place.

  When her gaze returned to mine, I linked my fingers with hers. “It doesn’t look familiar to me. I mean, I don’t recall any of your work based around cemeteries and gravestones.”

  Star released one of her hands and reached out from where we stood on a path that curved around the large open space.

  She lightly ran a finger over the top of the nearest stone. “Ah, well that’s because they’re a work in progress.” She pursed her lips and paused for a moment. “I’m not really sure they’ll suit everyone’s tastes.”

  She tugged at my hand and led me farther in amongst the graves. “I love the serenity here. The feeling of time standing still…the history.” She stopped and turned toward me. “Have you never been here before?”

  Being a native of Edinburgh from the start of my life, I could honestly say I had indeed never been there before. In fact, I was blissfully unaware of its existence.

  I cringed, conscious of the fact that she was an interloper here and I wasn’t. “Erm, no this is definitely a first for me.” I laughed lightly. “Can’t say that visiting a graveyard was on my list of things to do before I die.” I pointed to our surroundings. “Obviously, when I die, this is my go to place.”

  She giggled, and my heart skipped at the wonderful sound.

  We walked around for another hour or so, Star snapping away every so often when something caught her eye. I watched in awed silence as she tilted her head this way and that, trying to capture the image just right in her mind.

  She read many of the stones, telling me, “It’s important to read the stones that look a little neglected. These were people too. Loved once. They should be remembered fondly, even when there is no one alive who’s connected to them.” A look of melancholy graced her features as she spoke, and she stooped to pull some weeds away from one such stone.

  I found myself clearing my throat, taken back by the emotion I experienced on listening to her reasons for taking her time to visit the less well-kept resting places. I vowed then and there to return to do just that.

  Suddenly she stopped again, and her hand covered her mouth as she gasped. The stone before her was leaning and cracked. “Oh wow, Fin. Look.”

  I walked over to stand beside her and read aloud the wording on the stone. “Forbes Hunter. Gone but not forgotten. 1889 to 1916. Loving son and brother.”

  She placed a hand over her heart. “He was only twenty-seven when he died. That’s so sad.”

  I took a deep breath, emotions knotting my stomach. He could’ve been my ancestor. “I bet he died in World War One, looking at the dates.”

  “Yeah, maybe. Gosh, Fin, that’s the age you are now.”

  I shook my head and re-read the wording on the stone. Loving son and brother. That was me once. It was clear that no one had tended to the grave in many years, apart from the caretakers at the cemetery. No evidence of flowers left by loved ones. But at some point, he had been loved and missed. My heart ached at the thought that I couldn’t say the same about me as far as my parents were concerned. An overwhelming sense of loss tugged at me. What it must have been like to have been loved so dearly. A lump lodged in my throat, and I imagined my own grave looking the same way, but mine would be due to neglect.

  Star grasped my hand and tugged me away from Forbes Hunter’s final resting place. “Come on. Let’s go get some ice cream. I think we need it.” As we walked away, I glanced over my shoulder and found myself hoping Forbes’ family healed after his death.

  We headed for the wrought iron gate once again, and I felt a sense of inner calm that I possibly wouldn’t have felt had it not been for Star bringing me to this place. She truly was an enigma. This tattooed, pink-haired American with a heart as big as the world.

  Fin

  Nate from the band called me at home a couple of days after my visit to the graveyard with Star. He announced that Hydde had our first official bonafide gig. His call threw me for a loop and sent my brain into a tumultuous spin. Okay, the band rehearsals had been going great, but the thought of actually performing on stage with the band hadn’t been a firm reality.

  Until Nate’s call.

  “So, we’ve said yes to the show, pal. The guys are all psyched up and ready. And we know you’re ready. You’ve knocked our bloody socks off, man. Anyway, extra rehearsals until the gig on Saturday if you’re free. If not, we’ll just go with the flow.”

  My heart pounded in my chest. “Y-yeah, sure. Sounds great. I…I can do extras.”

  To say I had been given very little notice was an understatement. I was absolutely bloody terrified. Star insisted that was a good thing, that I had less time to dwell on it and build it up into something scary and negative. She did her best to calm me and take my mind off things for the whole week, but the gig came around far too quickly after a run of solid rehearsals.

  ♫♫♫

  Star held my face in her palms and gazed up at me, oozing that tangible excitement I was growing to love. “It’s what you dreamed of all those years ago as a little kid, and it’s finally happening, Fin. I’m so excited and so proud of you. You’re going to be amazing, I just know it.”

  I flared my nostrils as I locked my eyes on hers, wishing I was as confident in myself as she was. “Yeah?”

  She nodded slowly, a wide grin fixed on her gorgeous face. “Oh yeah.”

  I released myself from her grasp and began to pace up and down my living room. “But…what if I forget the words or…or what if I get stage fright and just fucking freeze up?”

  She folded her arms defiantly over her beautiful breasts, pushing them up and momentarily distracting me from my impending train wreck of thought.

  She stepped into my
path, stopping me in my tracks. “Has that ever happened to you at rehearsals? Or when you’ve been singing at DeBasement, for that matter?”

  I scrunched my brow as I thought about her question. “Um…no. No, it hasn’t.”

  She opened her arms once again. “See. No reason for it to happen at all then. Stop worrying. You’re going to be brilliant.” She slipped her arms around my neck and tiptoed up to kiss me. And for a little while, at least, my fears melted away as her tongue caressed mine and I lost myself in her.

  ♫♫♫

  We arrived with the band at the Jekyll and Hyde bar in the centre of Edinburgh an hour before our gig was due to begin. The owners of the bar had been amazingly supportive in booking us for our first live gig, and I think the fact that we were named Hydde endeared us to them.

  Our set list for the gig was compiled of covers of our favourite songs. We had started to write some of our own material but decided as this was the first time we’d played to a live audience—that didn’t only consist of our families and girlfriends—we’d save the original material for another time.

  I stood in the poster-covered dressing room whilst the guys were tuning up and getting ready. The man reflected back at me from the mirror was someone I was slowly becoming accustomed with. I was surprised at how quickly my hair had grown, and after Alasdair had said there was no need for me to cut it for work, and Star had admitted that my shaggy look turned her on, I’d stuck with it. My beard was trimmed, and I liked that I bore no resemblance to the Finlay Hunter of Hunter Drummond & Associates; all sharp designer suits and material items. I now looked like Fin Hunter, the guy who was daring to believe that dreams did come true, and that comfort zones were meant to be exited every so often.

  Before I knew it, the hands on the clock had reached ten p.m. and it was time for us to go on. My hands were shaking and my stomach was knotted. I had already downed a couple of glasses of Dutch courage, but my nerves were still jangling, and I felt sure I was going to either pass out or throw up.

  Nate poked his head around the door. “You right, pal? We’re up.”

  Oh, fuck.

  Just as I was about to step out of the tiny room, my phone began to ring. My father’s number flashed on the screen. Shit. Has something happened? Panic and dread washed over me in equal measures, and I hit to accept the call.

  “Hello?” My voice was hesitant.

  My father’s voice barked through the earpiece. “Finlay. You really have gone stark raving mad, haven’t you?” I pulled the phone away from my head as he continued. “Tell me the rumours aren’t true.”

  I sighed heavily, partly through relief that the old bastard was still alive, and partly through frustration because the old bastard was still alive. Talk about a double-edged sword.

  With flared nostrils, I replied, “What rumours would they be?”

  “That not only are you sleeping with the enemy, and by that I mean McKendrick, but now you’ve taken up with a bunch of morons and are having some kind of mid-life crisis by singing in a bloody poor excuse for a musical outfit.”

  I clenched my jaw. Could his timing have been any worse? “Ah, those rumours would be true then, yes. All of the above.”

  His barrage began again in earnest. “Are there no depths to which you won’t sink to ruin the family name, Finlay? What makes you think these hair-brained schemes are a good idea? I mean, working for the man who almost ruined our family is a low blow. And I’m guessing it was a deliberate stab at your mother and me. And do you really think anyone wants to hear you caterwauling on a bloody stage? You’re not a child anymore, Finlay, so why are you acting like one? Prancing around on a stage like a little kid with a hairbrush. Honestly. I’ve never heard such utter preposterous nonsense. It’s evident that you need help, young man. Serious help. You’re not a bloody performing monkey, you know. Think of your mother. What will people think? You’ve overstepped the mark this time, Finlay. You’ve really done it now. What say you?”

  His formal tone set the hairs on the back of my neck prickling in irritation. “Quite frankly, Dad, I don’t give a flying fuck.” I hit end call and threw my phone at the wall where it bounced and fell to the floor in a heap of crumpled metal and fractured glass.

  Star

  I sat clutching my glass of Jack and Coke in one hand and my camera in the other. I was determined not to miss a damn thing. But the drink was kind of a necessity, thanks to my state of nervousness. Fin had been in the dressing room for over a half hour and I had left him to gather his thoughts and prepare. My heart was in my mouth as I sat in the upstairs bar of the Jekyll and Hyde, waiting for Hydde to begin their set.

  I knew Fin would be amazing. There was no reason why he would suddenly fail, and I had every faith in him. I just wished he had the same faith in himself.

  Titch came out and took his place behind the drums just as Siân and Tom arrived to my right. Tom put an arm around my shoulders, hugged me, and planted a kiss on the side of my head.

  “How’s he holding up?” he asked in a concerned tone.

  “Pretty good, I think. Nervous, which is understandable, but I think he’ll be fine.” I hoped I was right.

  Tom sucked air in through his teeth. “He sounded like shit when I rang him today. Totally fucking freaked out.”

  I shook my head in vehement protest. “No, no. He’s fine, Tom.” I think I was trying to convince myself more than Fin’s best friend.

  Siân nudged Tom and scowled at him before turning to me. “We have a date to propose to you for the start of the exhibition.” She clapped her hands giddily, ignoring the look of worry on Tom’s—and no doubt my—face.

  I nodded and forced a smile. “Oh…yeah. Yeah, great.” I tried to sound enthusiastic but failed miserably.

  “Two months from tonight,” Tom confirmed, joining in Siân’s enthusiasm.

  I gasped and almost spilled my precious nerve-calming elixir. “Shit, that’s…that’s very soon.”

  Tom simply shrugged. “Na. It’s ages away. Loads of time. Don’t panic. You two make a right bloody couple. Never known two people to be so unhappy slash terrified to have their dreams handed to them on a plate.” He chuckled and I rolled my eyes. He kind of had a point, I guess.

  When I turned again, the rest of the band was on the stage and the lights had dimmed. A guy over by the mixing desk announced Hydde, and the place erupted into raucous applause and whistles.

  My shy, unassuming man stepped out into the spotlight. His gaze was fixed on the floor and his jaw was working so hard under his skin I could almost feel the grinding. The way his chest rose and fell told me he was on the verge of hyperventilating, and I longed to leap up there and just hold him, tell him he didn’t have to do this if he really didn’t want to. He had nothing to prove, despite his father’s constant jibes and hints to the contrary.

  It was so hard to comprehend the way he changed as soon as the music began. It was just like watching Dr. Jekyll down the potion. Sure enough, the opening bars to Foo Fighters’ “Monkey Wrench” kicked in, and the transformation took place. Fin gripped the mic, raised his head, and my heart almost stopped. The determination in his eyes verged on arrogance and he effervesced sex appeal that struck me like waves crashing over my body. My nipples peaked at the sheer sight of him taking control in the one place—apart from the bedroom—where he really felt able. Dragging the mic from its stand, he strutted across the stage as Dave Grohl’s lyrics fell fiercely from his lips like he owned them.

  Once again, he sang with such realism. Every word meant something to him. Every screamed lyric spat with such venom that I believed him.

  Every. Single. Syllable.

  He was once again singing to his father about the pressure of trying to be perfect and feeling closed in. Shivers travelled down my spine as I watched him. Utterly consumed. Beguiled even. And so damned proud.

  I don’t remember placing my drink down on the table, but before I could think, my camera was at my eye and I was snapping shots of hi
m as he took command of the stage, and the audience were worshipping at his feet. It was the most natural thing for me to do as I watched him in his element.

  Sweat dripped from the straggly strands of hair that fell onto his forehead, and he swiped his T-shirt from his body and wiped it around his face before tucking it into the waist of his jeans. Most people would think he was doing it to draw attention to his amazing body. But I knew different. It was simply a means to an end. He needed something to wipe his face on—it was as simple as that. He was the least showy showman I had ever witnessed. But that didn’t make him any less mesmerising to watch. His inability to see himself how others saw him was both frustrating and endearing. And the people in the audience couldn’t have been happier if they’d been on the front row of some private gig with a huge star. This is what he did to people.

  What he did to me.

  The entire show was amazing. The band was seamless. As the night wore on, Fin even began to speak to the audience in between songs, taking over from Nate who grinned widely as if he too saw the change in his frontman. My heart was full to bursting with love and pride.

  My man, the rock star.

  Okay, so I know I’ve said that before and I know this was a pub in Edinburgh and not the SECC, but it had never felt more fitting than it did right then.

  Another song ended and Fin stuck the mic back in its holster before stepping over and whispering something to Nate, who agreed with whatever was being suggested. Fin returned to centre stage as Nate passed around whatever Fin’s message had been.

  “You know, in life there are roads you travel because you think you should, and there are people you try to impress, even when they’re the people who should love you unconditionally. I’ve been there. But no more. It stops right now. I say you do what you want to do. You do what makes you happy. You rise above it all and make your own plans. I dedicate this next song to every single person who has tried to be a square peg in a round hole. This is a beautiful song written by Eddie Vedder. This is ‘Rise.’”