by John Harding
The teenagers were a bit unnerved when half the crowd knew the words to their final song – The Emperor’s New Clothes – especially as that was an original track written by their keyboardist, but they got a standing ovation and demands to continue playing.
Paige and Claire sold all twenty copies of their album for £5 a piece, with the landlord admitting that Xposed had been on repeat in his bar for most of the previous four days, with the exception of their cover of “F**k You” as it offended his wife.
“I'll drop you off home,” Jack offered the two sisters, but Paige shook head.
“I'd rather walk. I want to talk to my sister.”
“I'd rather take you home,” he replied. “It's pitch black, and it's Croydon.” He cocked his head as they loaded up the boot of his car and he put his hands together. “Please, I beg of you.”
“You beg of me? Oh, all right,” she snapped and the four of them had to squeeze into the brand new car for the short journey to Selhurst.
“Hey, don't I get a kiss,” he demanded from Paige when he stopped the car outside her flat, who blushed under the street light. “I normally get a kiss. Every time we play, I get a kiss, right?”
“Huhh-nnnn,” Paige grunted and gave the driver a peck on the cheek through the open car window. “Happy now?”
“'Til next time,” he told her and waved as the two sisters walked across the road.
“What was that about?” Hazel asked as they stepped onto the pavement.
“You don't want to know. And thanks, it was good seeing you there. Did you enjoy it?”
Hazel smiled and nodded. “Yeah. You were brilliant. Really good.”
“That's the first time I've seen you properly smile,” Paige responded. “Well, for a long time. Come here.” She held her arms out and put them around her sister, hugging her tightly. “I've so missed happy Hazel.”
Hazel sniffed. “Did you really write that song for me?”
“I wrote it while you were in hospital,” Paige replied. “At your bedside when I refused to go and get something to eat. Mum and Dad tried to make me but I just couldn't.” Hazel gulped as Paige looked at her. “You're my sister, you can't leave me. And no, I've never written one for Jeremy or Mum or Dad. Just you.”
* * * * *
“You are mad!”
“I am not mad,” Claire moaned and dunked her biscuit into her coffee. She looked over at the proprietor of the little deli-cum-coffee shop where she worked, who gave her a nod of the head.
“Twenty minutes, Claire.”
Claire turned her attention back to Jack, and she tapped the table. “Listen. We recorded our music naked, we love being naked.”
“You love being naked. Paige does. Not me.” She stared at him, and he shrugged. “Yeah OK, in the studio, but not in public.”
“But you liked it. We are called the Bare Necessities. Surely we should have a bare picture on the cover of our CD. We called the CD, “Xposed” for a reason. And we can do it Calendar Girls style, you know, no rude shots, get the keyboards and guitar and microphones to cover us.”
“I will get shot if Mum and Dad find out about me being in a band and playing pubs. They will use both barrels if they find out that the lead singer, not to mention the backing singer and guitarist was also starkers. If I am naked as well, prfff, I dread to think. I think it would make Hiroshima look like a Gnat's fart.”
“Stop worrying about them,” Claire demanded with a scowl. “Just, do what your heart says. What do you think?” Jack hesitated, and Claire cocked her head. “What do you think about us? Us three?”
“I think Paige is one of the best singers in the country,” Jack told her. “I think we have a perfect album with some great songs. And I think we make a good unit. I think that Paige singing naked is a bit of a gimmick to get us known, but I also think it will work, and I like the way her voice sounds when she gets her kit off.”
“She does not get her kit off,” Claire told him. “Page 3 get their kit off. Paige …”
“ … disrobes,” Jack suggested tactfully. “And I am getting more enjoyment now out of my music than I ever got out of Element of Surprise or my rugby. I feel at home, and I wouldn't change it for the world. But because I like it so much, I have to be careful. You're OK, your parents are fine with naturism and fine with you singing. Mine are less so.”
“But … but it's stopping you doing what you want.”
“It's not. It's making me think,” Jack corrected her, and Claire pulled her phone out of her pocket. “And just making me be a bit careful, that's all.”
“Look at our MySpace stats.”
“Do we have a MySpace space?”
“Yes,” Claire replied. “I put us up there. And Don't Hate Us is one of the most popular songs.”
“Christ!” Jack muttered, but Claire just smiled at him.
“After we do a couple more gigs I want to start putting some photographs up. And I want us naked on the front cover. I have a friend who is a photographer and she'd do a wonderful job.”
“Claire, please. I can't be naked. It's too much of a risk.” Claire cocked her head and sniffed. “Don't look at me like that.”
“I spoke to Paige last night, and she said it was a brilliant idea. She said if you agreed she was totally up for it.”
Jack gulped. “Paige wants me to do it?”
“Yeah. She said something about an extra kiss too.”
“OK. I'll think about it,” he promised and looked at his band mate. “But only because it's Paige.”
“I'm sure she'll be honoured,” Claire teased in response.
* * * * *
“Ruby, Pippa and … where are the rest?”
“They'll be here,” Ruby promised Andre as the two girls walked into the small office above a Battersea shop. “We are here to hammer out some details.”
“Right,” Andre murmured, and held his hand out to lead the girls past his desk, and that of the secretary, to the small office of his uncle.
The balding man smiled from behind his untidy wooden desk, and he leant across to shake the hands of the beautiful girls. “Come in, come in, welcome to Incredible Talents. Bet you know who I am?” The girls looked at each other blankly, and he scratched his head behind the back of his ears. “I'm Greg Wilson. I've launched hundreds, if not thousands of careers, from this office.” He looked around the room and gestured with his hands. “Doesn't look like much, but it's amazing, it really is.”
Ruby sat down and rubbed her hands. “You said you had the book deal we wanted. Your assistant was sure he had everything we needed and that the financials met our demands, plus the editorial control.”
“Straight to business,” Greg laughed and gestured to his nephew to leave them alone, and Andre closed the door to the office. “Sure. I have the contract from the publishers here and it's a cracking deal. And here is our contract, as agreed, to sign.” He tapped two documents on his desk, and Ruby glanced at Pippa.
Pippa pointed at a photograph on the wall of a footballer with Greg, and she smiled at him. “Did he play for England?”
“Luxembourg,” Greg replied and grinned. “I brought him over and he played around sixty times for ...” He turned around as Ruby picked up the two contracts from his desk and she smiled at him.
“I just want to have a look at the financials.”
“Well let's talk business,” Greg cried and clapped his hands. Ruby had opened the book publishing contract as Greg spoke and quickly scanned through it.
“Ummm … if you give that back, we can get our contract out of the way first before talking 'bout that one. Let's do things in order.”
Ruby ignored him as her eyes leafed through the pages. “This book signing contract is between us, and the publisher, not you, right?”
“Yes, I believe so,” Greg admitted. “But …”
“So, you agree, that this contract is totally separate from that contract.” She tapped the small bundle of sheets with “Incredible Talents” acros
s the top and raised her eyebrows. “We can take the publishing contract away and negotiate that separately. The two aren't linked.”
“No, that is true,” Greg admitted to her. “But I would be amazed if you turn it down. It's a terrific amount up front for an unpublished author, and the royalties are fantastic. I can guarantee you won't do better.”
Ruby smiled. “That is true. Looking at these figures, I won't do any better, and we will sign this contract. But I won't sign yours.” Greg's smile disappeared. “For three reasons. One, you have never worked in pornography before, so you have no idea about our industry ...”
“Now listen here,” he shouted, but Ruby put her finger to her lips and then pointed at him.
“Two, I don't think your contacts – such that they are – would be of any benefit to us and three, you are someone who is so naïve that you have let me get my hands on the contract I actually wanted before I have signed the contract you needed me to sign. You didn't even plan for what you would do if I got cold feet, and I don't want someone that dumb running my affairs.”
“But hang on,” Greg told her. “We've had the entire office working on this for a week.”
“Yeah, I know. And that's what's so awful. You would waste that much time by being so stupid.” Greg whimpered and clenched his fists. “We'll see our own way out,” she told him and got up from the chair.
“This is what we call being rammed in the arse,” Pippa told him with a giggle.
“Yeah, with a twelve-inch monster and no lube,” Ruby added with a sneer.
“I'll see you in court,” Greg threatened, but Ruby just smiled and rubbed her hands.
“You do that. And see ya. And thanks.”
She opened the door to the office and nodded towards Andre as she strode through the room. “Good?” Andre asked.
“For us, wonderful!”
Greg appeared at the door and beckoned young Andre. “Those bitches,” he yelled as the two girls slammed the front door of their first floor office. “They only took the book contract without signing our one.”
“They can't do that, can they?”
Greg hit the wall and shouted. “I don't bloody know,” he yelled. “Legally, maybe. I don't know. The sluts.”
“Hey, there is another group that I can go see,” Andre suggested, and his uncle looked at him. “The Sluts of Essex.”
“No, they are right. We don't know their industry. We should stick to music and acting. Proper music and proper acting.” He took a few breaths and looked at his nephew. “The bank has given us four weeks to find some more clients and come up with a better business plan or they'll pull the rug from underneath us.”
Andre gulped. “Pull the rug? You mean …”
“I mean liquidated. Exterminated. Erased. Deleted. Discarded. Ended.” Greg rubbed his eyes. “Sorry.”
“But that's four weeks. A lot can happen in four weeks,” Andre suggested optimistically, but his voice quivered as he spoke.
* * * * *
“Hello Caterham,” the naked Paige cried into the microphone and her voice reverberated around the grounds of the rural, village pub. Claire had got a phone call from the landlord of the Jolly Roger offering the band “a set” at a pub run by his brother-in-law a few miles away in the countryside and the band had leapt at the opportunity.
It was a splendid evening, and the “stage” had been set up in the beer garden. She recognised a few of the attendees from the first night in Croydon and smiled. In the audience was Hazel, armed with her digital camera, and she had convinced her partners-in-crime to strip also.
Jack put up the most resistance, but when it was shown that behind his keyboard, his assets could not be seen and that he could have a dressing gown for interval, his resolve wavered. When Paige jokingly offered a second kiss on the cheek for a naked performance, with the possibility of further kisses, the reticent man conceded, if he got paid in advance.
“I'm thinking you are enjoying those kisses too much,” Claire teased him and he blushed. Paige hurried him into removing his clothes and there was no doubt, from the cries and whoops, that the women in the audience appreciated Jack's body. His well-defined muscles and boyish look was adored by the ladies, and he got a bigger cheer when he was introduced than either Claire or Paige managed.
Paige found her rhythm immediately, singing well from the start and adding energy and passion into every lyric. She had the crowd on their feet several times throughout the show, and as the sun set below the horizon, they took an interval so the patio heaters could be lit.
The second half of the show had Hazel clearly in tears as Paige sang her signature Don't Leave Me, and as they finished their collection of songs, the audience demanded an encore.
Paige blushed as they got a standing ovation and looked at her band mates. “What song?” She asked the crowd. “We'll do two more, which songs?”
“Don't Hate Us,” a voice cried.
“Sweet Love,” said another.
“Hot N Cold!”
“None of yours,” Jack teased and Paige poked her tongue out at him.
She spoke into the microphone before the audience could suggest any more, before turning to her bandmates. “If we ever release our music, guess these are the best three,” she joked and then gave Claire the signal to start the introduction to Don't Hate Us.
They finished their two hour gig as the garden became chilly and even Paige was grateful when she was able to reach for her clothes to get dressed.
“Wonderful, Wonderful,” cried the landlord as they loaded their equipment into their car. “I never believed him when Terry said you were good, but we've been full all night.”
Paige smiled. “Could we play here again, later in the summer?” She asked. “It's a great venue.”
He nodded. “But in the summer, right?”
“Of course,” Paige replied with a smile. “Although, naked in the snow. Has a good ring to it.”
“Most definitely not,” Jack said firmly and Paige giggled.
“Three kisses for snow?” Paige asked, and Jack shook his head.
“But I'll take another two.”
Paige glanced over at Hazel watching her from a table, and gave her friend a kiss on both cheeks. “Thank you,” she whispered into his ear. “You enjoy it?”
“In a weird way, yes.”
“I promised you that you would!” Jack gave all three girls a lift back to the city and dropped the sisters off outside their flat. Hazel passed her camera to her sister as they entered their room and they started looking through the pictures on the laptop.
Many of the images were of the band, clearly naked, and Paige smiled at her nude body. “Hey, I don't look too bad, do I?”
“No,” Hazel admitted. She flicked onto the next picture and scowled.
“Who's this guy.”
“Oh crap. I meant to mention it,” Hazel muttered. “Look under his jacket, he was looking odd, and I saw it. It's a video camera.”
“Oh … oh well … what's the worst that can happen?” Paige squinted at the young man in the picture. “Just don’t tell Jack, he’ll freak.”
“Sure,” Hazel muttered, but Paige stared at the man on the screen; what did he want a naked video of her for?
Chapter XI
“Sorry, didn't recognise you with your clothes on,” Claire teased as Jack kissed her on the cheek. She had been called into work due to sickness, and Jack had arranged to meet her in the eaterie after the lunchtime rush to coincide with Claire's “lunch” break.
“Pah,” Jack told her. “Was a good gig. Landlord seemed proper happy.”
“Was cool. I got a couple of phone calls yesterday. One from an agent who wants to meet us and another from Jolly Roger again. Wants to know if we can go back as so many of his regulars are asking after us.”
Jack chortled. “It's fun, isn't it. Why an agent, by the way?”
Claire sighed. “That's what I need to speak to you about. Paige knows, well she guessed, but she do
esn't care. You, I don't know.”
“What?”
“Give me your phone.”
“Why?”
“'Cause I have no data on mine. Or credit. Or battery. Or … it's useless,” Claire moaned, and she navigated Jack's expensive smartphone to YouTube and then a video entitled “Naked Band – Bare Necessities – Part One.”
“Christ!” Jack cried, and Claire apologised to the manager on his behalf. “How the hell did this get on here,” he hissed.
