by Imani King
"You're an asshole," he said finishing the glass, and slamming it on the table.
"So are you, mate," Nigel grinned. "That's what makes you and I the best of friends."
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Jasmine
Tears burned in Jasmine's eyes as she walked. Maybe Nigel was right – maybe she was acting like a slag – or a slut as they might say in America. That must be how they saw her. That's how bands were. Women were just groupies, just to be used for one night and cast away for the next city. She just happened to be an order in, instead of a takeout. She made it easy, just came straight to his place. He didn't have to do a thing.
It hurt.
Betrayal always did. Just when you start to trust somebody, you find out they weren't who you thought they were. It wasn't the first time. And it more than likely wouldn't be the last. She'd get over it.
The night was still dark. The sun hadn't started to rise yet. She heard a single hopeful bird in the distance.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Jasmine and Kerry
The smell of coffee tickled her nose. She let out a groan.
"Come on now it's time to get up. We have to make the train," came Kerry's voice. She was holding the coffee near her friend’s face. "I think your stuff is packed. Right?"
She grumbled in response.
"How late were you up last night?" Said Kerry. "We all went to bed pretty early, but I didn't hear you come in. Did you have a good time?"
She groaned for a third time.
"I'll take that as a no," Kerry laughed. "Well I guess they can't all be handsome princes, even if they are noble." She wrinkled her nose. "Anyway, I made you some coffee. You should drink it. It'll make the trip easier."
Jasmine struggled to a sitting position. "Oh Kerry, it was awful. We went to London and his sports car and had a great time, had dinner, went for a walk –"
"That does sound terrible," Kerry smiled.
"That wasn't the terrible part," she took the coffee in both hands, and took a sip. It wasn't the best, tasted a little bit like cardboard in fact, but at least there was caffeine in it. She needed something to make her feel better. "I'll tell you all about it on the train."
"It’s a deal."
They could hear the others rushing around, getting ready to go. The cab would be there to pick them up in 20 minutes. Just enough time for Jasmine to jump in the shower and throw the last few things in her bag.
Kerry watched her toddle off to the bathroom with a concerned look in her eye. Jasmine was pretending that she was fine, or at least no more bothered than usual, that she knew her friend very well. She knew when she was hurting, and she sensed that she was hurting badly this time. As much as she talked about being worried about the quartet’s future, she knew what would break her heart the most, would be if Jasmine got hurt. Her friend was the kindest, sweetest, most sensitive and most deserving of love of anyone she knew. She wasn’t sure why it was so hard for her to find it.
Kerry sighed and got up to brush her teeth and gather the last of her things.
The train station, when they finally arrived, was bustling with activity. The girls were excited about their next concert. It was in a small church in a chamber music concert series featuring some of the lesser-known quartets of Mozart’s, including the one they played at the wedding. Apparently the sound in this hall was beautiful – a real treat to play in – and Kerry knew that that would raise Jasmine’s spirits. At her best, Jasmine lived in her sound – sometimes rich and full, others crystalline, and still others powerful.
Finding a place to sit on the train and stow their instruments, Kerry and Jasmine settled in.
“So tell me what happened last night? Why was it so terrible?” Kerry’s face was full of concern. “Did he treat you right? Or do I have to go back there and crack some heads?”
“No,” Jasmine laughed. “It seems like he did treat me right. At least for most of it. It was so strange, we went back to his place after London –“
“You, Jasmine, went back to his place?” Kerry was agog.
Jasmine’s cheeks flamed. “Well yeah. I’m a red-blooded American woman you know!”
“Oh, I know! Does he know?” She winked.
“Ha ha,” Jasmine said. “Anyway, if you want to hear the story!”
“Okay okay, I’m listening! Of course I want to hear! Tell me everything!”
“Well we went back to his place, as I said, and everything was going just fine, when his friend walked in!”
“Hold up! His friend?”
“Yeah. Isn’t that weird?”
“But… Who was his friend?”
“Nigel something,” Jasmine said. “And he was a real jerk. It made me –“
“Nigel!” Kerry sat up. Do you mean Nigel Gwillimbury?”
“I guess so,” Jasmine was getting annoyed. “Are you going to let me tell this story?”
“That’s the guitarist of Origin of Species!” Kerry was excited.
“Who cares? The guy was a real jerk. He called me a slag.”
“Ooh,” said Kerry. “That’s not good. That’s a complicated insult.”
“Why is that? Doesn’t it just mean sleazy?
Kerry shook her head no. “He’s not just impugning your virtue, he’s also saying you’re low class.”
Jasmine leaned back in her chair. “I suppose I am, in comparison to a nobleman, anyway. Who cares about that sort of thing? Class doesn’t really exist in America. How do you know all this stuff anyway?”
“I watch a lot of TV.” They both laughed. “So what happened?” Kerry prodded. “Did Leo fight for your honor?”
“Fight for my honor! It seems like you watch too much TV! Nah, he didn’t.” She shook her head. “And I’m not sure, but that might be the worst part of it. It made me realize how little I must mean to him. How many girls he’s been through, you know? While I was sitting there thinking I was possibly someone special, or at least what we were experiencing was special. I feel so stupid.”
“If there’s one thing you aren’t, it’s stupid,” Kerry said staunchly, looking her friend in the eye. “He’s stupid if he can’t see what he has in you.”
“Thanks bae,” she said softly. “But I realized. We don’t even know each other and I was thinking maybe the whole thing meant something.” Her eyebrows knitted together. “And all it means is that he’s good in bed, I guess.”
“Well that’s not nothing,” Kerry mused, a slight grin appearing on her lips. “But yeah, that’s dumb of him. And weird.”
“Not weird. I am just a groupie, and I didn’t even realize it.”
“Well, weird because that you felt it was something. And I’d trust your judgment. Besides, couldn’t it be? Maybe he didn’t know what to say. Maybe he was in as much shock as you were. After all you have a lot in common, spent the day together…Did you guys talk about music at all?”
“A little. We were discussing his group on the way there, but not in much detail.”
“Why not?”
“Because we ended up making out in the car.” Jasmine’s eyes shot over at her friend, wide and pleading, while Kerry’s eyes danced. “Don’t make fun of me girl, I can’t take it. I know we had a fight the other day, but I need your support now.”
“Aw, I’m sorry. You’ve got it.” Kerry gave her friend a hug, but couldn’t suppress a smile. Jasmine made out with a guy in a car! Hilarious. And awesome. “It’s just something else when it comes to someone famous. Anyway, there’s one good thing that has come out of this whole situation.”
“What’s that?”
“You’re not mad at me anymore.”
“Oh Kerry, you know I can’t stay mad at you. You’re not just my quartet member, you’re my best friend.” She smiled, though the pain in her eyes was still there. “But you were right. I won’t let myself get distracted by men. The quartet is the most important thing.”
The other girls were just coming back from the dining car, carrying four coffees.<
br />
“Hear hear,” said Jessa.
“Quartet foreva!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Leo…and Origin of Species
"Time to rock, Mr. Wellington-Kerr."
"Indeed, Mr. Gwillimbury," Leo replied, mic in hand. They were in rehearsal, something that OoS didn't often indulge in, but due to the upcoming tour of the States they knew they needed to get some things straight.
The opening chords of the guitar were punctuated by the crash of the drums before the piece took on its characteristic driving beat. The bass guitarist, Colin Raff, a.k.a. Riff, was mugging as he strutted with the bass, perfecting not only his licks, but also his game face.
"Nothing, you're nothing at all," sang Leo. But it lacked conviction.
"Get it together, Earl," growled Nigel over the music. He could tell that Leo's voice was elsewhere. Leo nodded and banged his head a little, hoping to get more in the spirit of the music.
"You're nothing, no-good has been, washed up," he sang.
"You're going to be washed up if they hear you sing like that, Leo," said Riff. "What the hell, mate, what is going on with you?"
Leo shook his head. "Nothing, nothing," he said. It didn't seem prudent to be telling everyone about the scene with Jasmine last night. When she left, it was like the tiny budding feeling that he had, had grown bristles, heat, everything, and it was ripping and burning him up from the inside. He had never felt like this before, so realizing that he may be falling in love with her, and what's more, she may be completely out of his life due to Nigel's stupidities, was almost too much to bear.
"What - it's not about that gash from last night, is it?" Nigel said, face twisted in scorn.
That was it. Jasmine is no ‘gash.’
Leo couldn't control himself this time. He walked over to Nigel and with the force that had been building up since the night before finally set free, he punched him across the mouth. The guitar made an awful twang, almost comically adding a soundtrack to the scene playing itself out in the barn. Nigel stumbled back, holding his jaw.
"What the fuck?" Riff asked, staring at the two of them. "...What the fuck do you think you're doing, Leo?"
Leo looked at all of them one last time before dropping the mic and stalking out of the barn. "Arseholes the lot of them," he muttered. But inside, he didn't feel angry at all. That was the problem. He felt sad. And in pain. And it didn't yet have time to harden into the shell of anger. That's why he couldn't sing those lyrics. How could he say, 'you're nothing' with any credibility, when he just found out this girl might be – well, everything?
Walking through the estate, his tears mingled with the mist that had blanketed the grounds. He could barely see through the water that was welling up in his eyes, but he had walked these particular grounds for the whole of his life. He knew them like the back of his hand. He loved them, but when he was out there, everything came back to him in a rush. That’s why he avoided England whenever he could. Its landscapes were so beautiful and familiar, but so laced with pain. When his parents had left him to his own devices, preferring not to have to raise a second child, he had taken to the open spaces as a way to cope, to escape the feeling of being ignored. To escape any feeling at all. It was all coming back to him as he wandered. Looking down at the blur of his feet, again he noticed how much different his shoes were now. Not the buckled up shoes of a wandering child, but black leather boots. Much larger. Much more sophisticated.
But was he? Had anything really changed?
No.
Nothing had changed. He was the same. He was alone.
Alone again. Without her.
Lyrics began forming in his head. A chord melody. Drums.
He turned around and walked back to the barn, his boots moving purposefully this time.
Sliding the wooden door open and revealing the band, who were staring incredulously at him, he said,
"I’ve got something."
All the earlier tumult was immediately forgotten in that moment. They gathered around him, instruments at the ready.
"Shoot," said Nigel. The last time Leo had “got something,” it meant their band hit number one on the charts for the first time.
***
They stumbled off the plane, hitting the ground in NYC. Riff fell to his knees, miming kissing the pavement under their feet. A sly photographer's telephoto lens caught it, and they knew it would be in all the tabloids the next day. Origin of Species love America! Or some such, the headline would read.
Leo pulled himself to his full height and stretched, showing off the ab muscles that peeked out from the bottom of his t-shirt.
"It's good to be back stateside, isn't it mates?" he asked.
"You bet!"
They were all thrilled about the new single that would be coming out just before their tour. Hot on the heels of the inspiration that Leo had had that day in the barn, they had put the new song to recording, and it was going to promo their North American tour. The producer had called it a "genuine number one" and told Leo he had reached a new level of songwriting. Nigel rubbed his chin thinking about it.
"You've really outdone yourself, Leo," the producer had said proudly, as the playback rang out through the perfect sonic environment of the studio. "This is really something."
"Thanks," Leo said nonchalantly, although inside he had been quite touched. He was trying to be grateful to Jasmine, for giving him that experience of love, and not to be angry at Nigel's stupidity. He would have thought the same thing had he come upon Nigel and a girl, after all. Even if he wouldn't have said it in earshot, he wouldn't have imagined in a million years that Nigel was experiencing anything real. After all, how many times had they even been in the same room while one, or both of them were fooling around with some chick? But still he could have suspected that this woman was different. They hadn't met on tour. She wasn't your typical girl that follows bands around. She was... well, special. But Nigel hadn't seen any woman as more than a set of tits above an ass in a long time, so he wasn't surprised that he missed that - Leo almost would have as well, if her tits and ass hadn't been so alluring in the first place.
Hopes were high for the new song. It added another dimension to Origin of Species, one that a lot of people might be able to relate to - not just the lads, but everyone had an experience of lost love, lost beginnings. Of course there was always a chance that people would see it as OoS going soft, that they were no longer the rock and roll superstar Brit kids but part of the establishment, falling in love instead of fucking every girl they saw. That was the concern.
Graham Fearnley, their manager, was unworried. "You might lose a few fans, it's true. But the fact is you lads aren't going to be young forever. And as such, you might as well branch out. Grow with your base or you will lose them. And there's no guarantee that you'll pick up new ones. Look at Green Day for Chrissakes. They tried to sell out and then find new fans - didn't work. Contrast that with the Beatles who changed with every record. That's how you make a recording career lads. Not by putting out exactly the same thing over and over.
"No, this song has potential for you to make it on another level. One that could stand the test of time. Still that's all supposition. I have been wrong before - one time in 1986," he grinned. "But I really think that you should go balls to the wall with this one. Give people a new reason to love the band."
The band had nodded sagely, almost as one. This was a new chance for them, this song. And Fearnley had never given them a reason not to trust them - so if he were enthusiastic, they could very nearly bank on it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
The Quartet
The girls were finally getting used to England. This was their second week, and Jasmine was doing her best not to hear every man behind with a posh accent as possibly Leo. She had secretly hoped that he was going to show up at one of the concerts, maybe to apologize, maybe to rekindle what they had, to tell her that he had defended her to Nigel. She wasn't sure.
The only thing she
was sure about was that she was going to go on without him if that was the way things had to be. She wasn't going to let down the quartet, but even more important than that, she wasn't going to let down the music. Still it was hard. She had to subsume her emotions into the Mozart, which for the most part wasn't about deep searching, longing feelings, overblown ideas. It was more about crystalline form, perfection in shape, the frolicking interplay of tunes delicately placed one on top of another.
"This isn't Wagner, Jasmine, remember," said Jessa one day. "No melodrama, ok?"
