by Nicky Wells
“Guys,” I couldn’t help teasing, “are you getting old? I would have thought you’d be living it up tonight.”
“Oh no,” came the collective outcry, and once more, five pairs of eyes regarded me with surprise.
“Never, never put in a heavy boozy night before a gig,” Mick explained. “That’s not our style.”
“Absolutely,” Joe added. “Not only does it compromise our performance, but it also makes you feel rotten and lousy. No way anyone can do a full tour and go out boozing every night.”
“Yup,” Darren put in as well. “We never have and never will work like that. People have never believed us, but contrary to popular perception, we are actually a pretty clean group of guys.”
Nods all round. “Can I put that in my column?” I asked, just to be on the safe side. This would be another surprising piece of information to tuck into my column for tomorrow. “It would be a great message for the kids out there…you know, how you can be clean, as you say, and still be cool. Or…” I thought of Jack’s concerns over the teaser piece earlier in the week. “Would that compromise your image?”
“No, no, go for it,” Jack and Dan said simultaneously. “Good, clean fun is the message of the Noughties,” Jack added for good measure.
“I thought we weren’t being naughty?” Mick couldn’t help quipping.
Groans were made and eyes were being rolled around the table in response. “Boom boom,” Joe offered and everybody burst out laughing.
“Right then, time to make a move,” Jack declared and actually clapped his hands as though to gather an unruly crowd of school kids. I snapped a few pictures as everyone got up and ready, and then we were on our way back to the hotel.
I was mighty glad of the early night. Without further ado, everyone had disappeared into their respective suites, and I sat down at the desk in my room, comfortably clad in the obligatory, fluffy hotel bathrobe, to put together my Edinburgh piece. Having had the privilege of attending rehearsal and snapping photos there, I would be able to pen much of my article in advance of the actual event and fill in any blanks, such as the crowd’s reaction and any special events of the night itself, after the show. I guessed there would be an after-party of some description, and I would have to decide tomorrow whether that would be part of the first article or a lead-in to the second column, or a sidebar all on its own. But I felt good about getting the bulk of my article under way in advance.
I tapped away contentedly at my laptop for about an hour, then decided to give Rachel and Tim a quick ring. Tim first. I had a feeling that my call with him would be much shorter and much more…factual than my chat with Rachel. In any event, Tim wasn’t even in, so I left two detailed messages to put him at ease and then called Rach.
Good as her word, Rachel answered her phone instantly, although she sounded quite breathless and distracted. I guessed that Jordan was with her—they were still seeing each other—and offered to ring back some other time.
“No,” Rachel wailed. “I promised I’d be there for you at any time.”
“I’m fine, honestly. Nothing bad to report so far, at least nothing that I haven’t got under control,” I assured her, aware that she had a love life of her own.
“What does that mean? ‘Nothing that you haven’t got under control?’” she pounced immediately. I could hear Jordan making giggling noises in the background.
I hesitated. Should I tell her? I felt a little awkward about interrupting her tryst.
“Ok,” I sighed. “Here’s the deal. Dan’s been totally great and totally distanced, so things have been easy. Only three small problems so far.”
“Yes?” came the expectant question—from both Rachel and Jordan, who appeared to be listening in somehow. I grinned. Ah well, if I could serve as entertainment, at least I didn’t have to feel guilty about interrupting.
“Is it the girlfriend?” Rachel speculated. “Is she there?”
“No, actually,” I admitted. “No sign of her. I’ve not had a chance to ask about that yet, and anyway…I think you’re right.”
“So what is it, then?” Jordan cut in from the background.
I sighed and thought about how to put my misgivings into words. “Well, first, there was a massive bouquet of flowers from Dan here in my room, with a card that says he’s looking forward to seeing me later.”
“How sweet,” Rachel enthused. “That doesn’t sound too ominous.”
“Well, actually, I think that does sound pretty ominous,” I insisted. “Especially since the second issue is that his room is next to mine. And there are connecting doors. I didn’t know that that door went into his room”—I rushed through my speech without taking a breath, like an overexcited child—“and so I opened it and then another one and then I was in Dan’s room and he was all naked.” I paused for a second to await a reaction, but none came. “And now I don’t know whether to lock the damn thing or not.” I concluded.
“Juicy,” Rachel commented, and then there was a whispered conference at her end.
“Jordan reckons you shouldn’t lock it. You never know what might happen.”
“Exactly,” I howled. “But do I really want to be…accosted in the middle of the night?”
“Soph,” Rachel reasoned, “there won’t be any accosting without your consent.” She halted, and I could almost hear her grin. “But think about it this way...what if there’s, say, a fire? And you need to get out? And in your panic you can’t work the bloomin’ lock? Then what would you do?”
A fire? She caught me off guard for a minute, and then I burst out laughing. “You idiot. You really come up with the most ridiculous excuses. But do you really think I should…leave it open?”
“Well, is it locked now?”
“No.” I stretched the word out as long as I could.
“There you go, then. What was the third thing?” Rachel asked, and then gave a little gasp.
“Oi, you two, just hold it for a minute, I’ll ring off shortly,” I admonished. Insights into their cozy togetherness weren’t doing wonders for my own composure. “The third thing is that he ordered dinner on my behalf like…I don’t know, like he was my boyfriend. Like he had a right to because he would know exactly what I would want.”
“And did he?”
“Did he what?”
“Know exactly what you wanted, silly?”
“Well, yes,” I acknowledged, “but that’s not the point.”
“Is it not?” Rachel asked meaningfully. “Or is it?”
Now she was playing mind games.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m too tired to think about it. I think things are well under control, and I just want to go to bed now.” More snorts and giggles from the other end. “Alone,” I bellowed for extra emphasis, then added, more softly, “I’ll ring you again tomorrow. Have fun.”
“Love you, too,” Rachel giggled as she hung up.
I switched off my computer and my phone and snuggled up in bed with the telly. It was eleven-thirty p.m. and there wasn’t a noise to be heard from next door. I rubbed my cheek where Dan had planted his rather chaste good-night kiss before disappearing in his room. Hmm.
Still no noise from next door. No rustling, nothing at all. I switched the telly off again and concentrated on breathing.
Silence.
Eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore and got out of bed. As quietly as I could, I padded to the connecting door and pressed my ear against it. Nothing. Well, of course there wouldn’t be anything as there was a second door on Dan’s side.
Carefully, carefully, I opened my part of the connecting door, and then stepped into the little vestibule. Still nothing.
Once more I pressed my ear against a door, this time the one leading directly into Dan’s room, and heard—absolutely nothing. No sound of television, no sound of Dan on the phone or in the bath.
I must have stood there for at least ten minutes before I realized that I was shivering with cold. Returning to my room and closing—b
ut not locking—the door behind me, I climbed back into bed. Then I climbed out again, turned off all the lights, and opened the curtains. I didn’t like sleeping in the pitch black, particularly in strange rooms.
Thus organized, I arranged myself comfortably in bed and drew the duvet up to my chin. I was very, very tired from all the excitement of the day and ready to have a good night’s undisturbed sleep.
But somewhere deep at the back of mind lurked just the tiniest trace of disappointment that…well, that I hadn’t had to be strong tonight.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The next day started off very slowly—the proverbial quiet before the storm, I assumed. I was startled to find that it was almost ten a.m. by the time I woke up. A soft, blinking red light alerted me to the fact that my room telephone was ringing on silent. I reached across to the night table and picked it up cautiously.
“Hello?” I asked tentatively.
It was Joe, who reported that everyone had slept through breakfast and that the plan was to find a café and do some sightseeing during the morning. Did I want to join in? Why, of course!
We had a most delightful morning taking breakfast in a sweet little pastry shop round the corner from the hotel and then exploring the Old Town and the Castle. Toward midday, however, the atmosphere got a little tense. The guys were starting to think about the evening’s gig. After impressive promotional efforts, the concert was fully sold out and the band clearly felt pressured to re-enter the rock stage with a big bang. Like all true geniuses they started to worry whether they would live up to expectations, whether their music and their show would be good enough. Whether they still had “it”, that magical ingredient that would take the show from a performance to an experience for the fans. Eventually, Jack suggested that everyone should return to their suites, order a room service lunch, relax, and get some sleep. His idea was greeted with much enthusiasm. We agreed to reconvene to travel to the venue at about seven. The band would then have to refresh the sound check, and we would have dinner while the support acts performed.
Suddenly, it was nine p.m. After a seemingly interminable afternoon and a tense dinner, the time had come for the band to go on. The support acts were done, voices and fingers had been warmed up, the lights went out, and the guys were due on stage.
I was sitting in a little box just off the back of the stage, watching the band from the side and having a prime view of the audience. This was a wholly new perspective for me. In fact, my view of the show itself was a little limited from this angle and I was extremely glad that I had taken so many good pictures during yesterday’s rehearsal. But I got to hear the gig as the band did, and I saw the audience as the band did—a sea of faces, a mass of clapping hands, and an ocean of lighters and sparklers.
Right from the opening number, it was clear that the concert was a tremendous success. When the spotlights came on to pick out Dan, Darren, Mick, and Joe in turn, a massive roar went up from the crowd. Joe had to hit the drum kit very hard to provide the opening countin for Don’t Rock Me Now. Within seconds, the audience was singing along and clapping their hands. As the light show illuminated the stage properly, we could see that some fans had brought banners proclaiming things like Tuscq—We Love You and TUSCQ BACK FOR GOOD! I almost cried with emotion. And so did the band. I could tell that they were overwhelmed by the reception they received.
The cheers and the noise never ended. The silences between songs weren’t silences at all, and Dan had to shush the crowd when the band wanted to speak to the fans or crack jokes. When the set had finished, the band had to go back out for the predicted encores, but even when those were done, the crowd wanted more. Needless to say, everyone came off stage on the highest of highs, purely adrenaline-driven. The guys were a-buzz, flushed with success and almost delirious with relief and excitement. Without warning, a mass of fans swarmed around the backstage area—I suspected that Jack had given orders to let in a few assorted folks, mostly girls. Not only did the invasion provide a massive boost to the guys’ egos, but it also offered me even more dramatic photo opportunities; for this reason alone, I was quite certain that the invasion had been carefully staged.
Dan, in particular, was inundated with female fans. I watched with semi-detached bemusement as girl after girl flung herself around his neck, trying to snatch a kiss, offering bits of anatomy to be autographed, asking for pictures to be taken. Dan’s eyes were glowing, and he visibly blossomed under this onslaught of undiluted adoration. He had once confessed to me that he found these occasions tiresome and grueling, but tonight, the attention was a much-needed tonic to his soul.
Suddenly, Joe put his arm around me, speaking in a soothing voice. “Don’t you go worrying about them floozies,” he whispered so that only I could hear. “They don’t mean a thing. They’re good for his ego, but he only plays along to keep the fans happy. You know, keeping up appearances. They’ll all be chucked out in no time, and then it’s just us again.”
I looked at him with a mixture of shock and surprise. What had prompted this little speech? Why would he think that I would be bothered? Had Dan told the others more than I had thought? Or were the others drawing the obvious, if misguided, conclusions?
I didn’t get a chance to respond because he trundled off to do a little bit of keeping up appearances of his own, and then we all bundled into the limo to go back to the hotel for the after-party. As Joe had predicted, we left the fans behind at the concert venue.
I gave the first half hour or so of the after-party a miss. Not only was I not used to the pace of events, and thus reeling significantly—mentally and physically—but I also needed to submit my first column to Rick. Granted, it was after midnight and there was no chance he would even be in the office at this time, but I had a sneaky suspicion that I would want to sleep in the following morning and it seemed prudent to get the copy out of the way now. Once in my room, I made the additions that I had to make, then gave myself five minutes of staring blankly out of the window before proofing the entire article. I was extremely proud of it. It was long-ish but concise, flowed well, and really captured the mood. My byline stood out proudly at the top, and I couldn’t wait to see how this would translate into the actual feature article. Satisfied with my work, I emailed the file to Rick and also to Rachel, just to be safe. On the spur of the moment, I took a hasty shower, put on only the barest traces of make-up, a change of clothes, and joined the party in the big downstairs function room.
My work done, I could finally relax and slowly enjoyed a frozen margarita that I grabbed off a passing waiter. Disco music played at full volume and glittery, glamorous people danced in various places. The place was rammed, my four stars lost among the crowds somewhere, hobnobbing and doing important rock-star things.
Succumbing to the cheery mood, the margaritas and the delicious party foods that kept appearing from out of nowhere, I started dancing and swaying, uncaring of the fact that I wasn’t really dancing with anyone. The lights were low, and the disco ball gently turning as the ceiling cast drops of light around the room that felt soft like rainfall. I was quite mesmerized.
So it took me a little while to notice that I was no longer dancing on my own. A body had appeared and snuggled ever so gently into my back. I had two arms wrapped around my waist, and a head resting gently on my right shoulder in a tender gesture of intimacy. We swayed together for a while and, without really looking, I knew that it was Dan who was holding me close. Perhaps his aftershave gave him away, or perhaps it was the way in which our bodies seemed so comfortable together.
When the music changed, Dan turned me around gently and we embraced properly for the next dance. Now his hands rested in the small of my back while mine were draped around his neck. My head relaxed against his shoulder. My entire body tingled with anticipation, and I had those delicious, welcome butterflies in my tummy again. We swayed some more, lost in the moment and the music and the sensation. The room, and the people in it, faded away as we leant into each other and breathed as o
ne.
After what could have been minutes or hours, it was time to go to bed. The party was over, the guests were leaving, and lights were coming on one by one. The other members of the band had already disappeared, or were busy being busy with someone somewhere else. Without a word, Dan took my hand and led me to the lifts. We walked like in a dream, and dithered only slightly before deciding on his room rather than mine.
Inside, it was dark but the curtains were open and the city lights provided a soft orange illumination. Dan gently sat me down on the bed to examine me in the dreamy light.
“Sophie,” he whispered gently, and his voice was laden with emotion. “My Sophie,” he repeated and stroked my hair.
My heart stopped and my eyes welled up at this unexpected but welcome expression of possession. I was his Sophie.
“Dan,” I eventually uttered by way of reply, uncertain of what else I could say without spoiling the moment.
He knelt in front of me and kissed my face—my eyes, my forehead, my cheeks, and my mouth. I found myself responding eagerly and buried my hands in his hair to draw him closer. We were breathing faster now and an urgency filled us that made our togetherness inevitable. Dan pushed me back so that I was half lying on the bed, and in a single smooth movement, I pulled him down so that his body followed mine. We embraced and kissed, and I could feel my body absorb his very presence. Item by item, he removed my clothing until eventually I lay naked in front of him. He smiled and stood back to admire me for a second.
“You are so beautiful,” he murmured, and I sighed exaltedly. At this moment, I felt beautiful. I felt wonderful. I wanted to make use of this beautiful body of mine, and of his.
Dan lifted the covers off the bed, inviting me to crawl under. But I wasn’t cold and I didn’t want to hide, so I kicked the duvet off completely, stretching myself greedily across the entire width of the bed. With motions so swift that I barely noticed them, Dan took off his own clothes and came to lie beside me. There was nothing awkward here, no uncertainty, no residual trace of doubt. Our lovemaking had become inevitable, and we surrendered to our need of each other with a mighty sense of release.
