There was a murmur of laughter as Paige reached the end of her comment and she looked down at the journalists before continuing.
“It is no secret that all three of us have had pressure from our parents, families, moronic talk-show hosts, politicians and small-minded groups like Christian Outrage to stop. Some say, it's about sex, but it isn't.” Paige gestured with her hands and spoke assertively as she did. “I can't begin to tell you how being naked, whether alone or with people, makes me feel. I am calmer, I sing better. It is me. We are not doing anyone any harm so why do people see fit to try and ruin it for us?”
She gestured behind her. “Why do the Police see it as so wrong for me to sing naked when it is clear I sing much better with nothing on? Why does it offend them? I am getting mightily pissed off that we are getting harassed so much for being naturists. Why does society hate us? What the fuck have we ever done to you? How many people like Christian Outrage and Peter Moran and all that have actually tried naturism before condemning it?”
Paige cleared her throat and wiped her eyes. “All we want to do is to enjoy ourselves and make good music. Why was my brother beat up for me being a naturist? Why have all the skeletons been dragged out of our families' closets? Why are there lies printed about us in the papers? It's enough to make people angry. We just want to be left alone to make our music. So that's all I got to say. Fuck ya all.”
Paige looked beyond the hundred people in front of her and the satellite trucks behind them and into the distance. “Is it true that you and Jack are romantically attached?”
Paige snorted. “For that to happen, he would have to ask me out, and that hasn't happened. Now I have a bus to catch, and nothing further to say.”
The gaggle of questions started again, and Paige had to push her way past the group of journalists, eager to talk to her, to get the comment for their newspaper or TV show.”
“Paige, Paige,” Jack cried from the back of the group, and she smiled at him. He held up the keys and called her again. “Want a lift?”
Paige pushed past another reporter and ran across the Police station car park to the BMW Jack owned. The two of them were photographed repeatedly as they tried to make a quick exit, but Jack pulled out onto the main road before the paparazzi could follow them. “Thanks,” she muttered. “How long were you there for?”
“Long enough,” he told her and smiled. “Andre told me you were being released. He's coming to the house and wants a word.”
“Oh what the fuck does he want?” Paige moaned, but Jack dialled their agent from his car.
“Something about some exciting news!”
* * * * *
“Hello stranger,” Claire teased as she opened the door to Lucinda's house. There were a still several photographers and journalists at the end of the drive, and Claire shut the door as soon as Andre entered the room.
“Afternoon,” Andre greeted her as he came into the house and Claire led him into the spacious lounge, with the curtains drawn across. He smiled. “Privacy?”
“They were coming up the drive earlier,” she moaned. “Jack nearly mowed them down when he drove away.”
Andre shrugged. “You're hot property,” he said with a broad grin and then shrugged. “Isn't this what you wanted?”
Claire sat down and shook her head. “I feel like, it's out of control. Paige is just set on trying to beat everyone, Jack is trying not to upset anyone, and half of the media hate us. It feels, too manic.”
Andre licked his lips. “And what do you want?”
“I don't want to be hated,” Claire put her head in her hands and groaned. “I just want everything to be like it was when we first went on tour. We didn't have all this.”
“But now you are selling tens of thousands of albums, playing to Wembley and … err … festivals.”
Claire snorted. “It's not about the money. Hell, my mother was begging me to stop, Jack's father has made his position perfectly clear, and Paige won't tell me what her parents think, but as her brother got beat up because of us, I'd say it's not good. Maybe we are just too crazy.”
Andre sat down next to her. “You're not,” he soothed. “You lot are a bit different. Well so were the Sex Pistols when they played music, and they had problems. So were Black Sabbath and hundreds of other musicians. You are popular because you are good, don't forget that.”
Claire smiled. “I know you have to say nice things to us because you are our agent.”
“I have to look after my clients,” Andre corrected her with a smirk. “And particularly my favourite clients.”
“You mean the ones that make you the most money.”
“The ones that are the most talented.” He cocked his head as she blushed. “OK, we have mostly ex-musicians trading on back catalogues and fourth-tier footballers. It's not that difficult to be our number one client, but … well … all the work and requests and stuff for you, I've been working eight 'til eight. And we have a temp in working solely on your account. If this keeps up, we are going to need to get permanent staff in and possibly a new office. And it's all thanks to you.”
“Me?”
“Yeah. Well all three of you. I'm working full-time on it, my uncle's working part-time and we have a temp in doing clerical work and … the 'phones have been ringing off the hook. We had a fault at the radio mast yesterday, and the 'phones went silent for two hours. Greg phoned O2 back up the moment they came back on and asked them to break the damn masts again so he could get some lunch.”
Claire laughed, and she bit her lip. “Don't you want a break from it all? I mean, naturism was all about escaping everyday life and being at one with nature. It just feels that instead of taking the tranquility of naturism to our life, we've just added the manic-ness of life to our only escapism. We've done it all wrong.”
Andre stared at her for a moment. “You sound like you need a break from it all. Go and recharge your batteries.”
Claire smiled. “Yeah, I think I do.”
“OK. Go.”
“No, I mean it. Just cut off from the world. I know the place, but … I don't want to take Paige and Jack. They are my friends, but I need to get away from this. And if we go, it will turn into another media circus.” She gulped. “And they will be annoyed if I go without them.”
Andre sighed. “OK then. As a friend …” he flinched as Claire raised her eyebrows. “… OK sort of a friend. I would say, go. I've got a big festival lined up for you at the end of the month, it's days away. Have a few days away and chill. I'll envy you, but do it. You sound like you need it.”
“I can't do it on my own,” Claire muttered and then smiled. “But I'll do it with you.” Andre stuttered, and Claire giggled at the alarm on his face. “Come on, you've not done naturism properly. And I reckon you need some time away too.”
“I've got a very big account to deal with. And a client who insists on getting arrested every twenty minutes!”
“Paige is a big girl,” Claire told him. “Well actually she's short and skinny. I'm the big girl, but Paige can look after herself. Come on, it might be the difference between me continuing and not. I need a break as these past few weeks have been relentless and if I can't find a way to switch off then it'll just kill me.”
Andre suspired wearily. “You three are definitely the most demanding clients I have ever had!”
“And the most profitable?”
Andre laughed. “Yeah, I've got an accountant looking through that at the moment.”
“Please Andre, just the two of us. Somewhere remote and quiet.”
Claire's conversation with Andre was interrupted as Jack and Paige came into the house. “You should see the fuckers out there,” Paige cried. “Ten deep. I thought we were going to have to run the buggers over, but Jack just used his horn.” She turned to her friend and sighed. “Didn't you ever play Grand Theft Auto?”
“No,” he muttered and Andre gestured for them to sit down.
“Very quickly, I have a contract for you to sig
n. The big Hyde Park Festival, they want you to open it.”
“You're kidding,” Paige cried and looked as her agent pulled a wad of paper from his briefcase. “Seriously. Why the hell … don't they know everyone hates us?”
“The sort of people that go to music festivals quite like you,” Andre reminded her. “As do the people at Incredible Talents.” His eyes wandered to Claire who blushed. “And they are going to pay fifty thousand pounds for you.” He hesitated and then cleared his throat. “OK, they were going to pay thirty, and I beat them up to fifty! It's not a vast amount, but you are an addition to the line-up to boost sales, so it was worth it for them.”
“Fuck … fifty thousand? That's like massive,” Paige cried.
“You underestimate, Paige, how much money you've made,” Andre told her with a smile. “I reckon you are looking at around six hundred grand.”
Paige spluttered and gripped the side of the table. “That's over a hundred and fifty each after your cut! Wow!”
“No Paige, that's six hundred grand each, after expenses, and my cut,” Andre replied with a smile and Paige spluttered and grinned.
“Fuck! You better be teasing me.”
“We got over two million owed or in an account with the music sales, and stuff. I need to get you talking to an accountant to sort this stuff out.”
“Shit. Wow, Christ. I'm rich?” She asked with a scowl. “I'm actually rich?” She looked at Claire and Jack. “Did you know 'bout this?”
“Not the amount,” Claire told her. “We need to get it all sorted with an accountant, pay tax and stuff, but yes, we are well-off.”
“Yeah,” Andre told her. “It can wait until after the concert though, I got to get away for a couple of days. But when we get back, get you chatting to an accountant.”
“Oh,” Jack muttered. “Isn't it important?”
Andre looked at Claire. “I thought Claire was off anyway seeing relatives?”
Paige glanced over at Claire who nervously bit her lip and nodded. “Yeah. Sick grandparents. South Coast,” she gulped.
“Right, well,” Jack muttered and looked up at Paige. “Guess it's just us two.”
“Yeah,” Paige muttered. “Oh, and Andre. Any chance of putting a complaint into the Police? The way those bastards dragged me to the car this morning. No dignity at all.”
Andre nodded. “I'll get the solicitor to stop off and see you,” he promised and then looked at the contract in Jack's hand. “You want to do the festival?”
He glanced over to Claire who nodded. “Yeah, it'll be exciting,” she said, smiling as Jack flicked through the legal document. “Why not?”
“I'm not sure it's worth getting out of bed for a measly fifty grand,” Paige teased and smiled. “Of course, I'll do it! I can be naked, can't I?”
“Yes,” Andre replied. “I did check that. I do know what you are like, Paige.”
“What?” Paige asked.
“Awkward!” Claire responded with a giggle. “Bloody awkward.”
* * * * *
“Claire was very keen for us not to join her,” Paige moaned as she put on her best dress and smiled at her “date” wearing a suit. “I mean, I can understand it. We've lived on top of each other for months.”
Jack chuckled. “Some of us, more than others.”
“Hey, you weren't complaining. Sharing a sleeping bag.”
“No, I wasn't,” Jack reminded her and held the door open for her. She snarled at him as she brushed her long, red hair and applied a few squirts of her perfume, before joining him on the landing.
“I won't wait up,” Lucinda teased as they came downstairs and she watched them from her front room. Jack chastised her when he saw she had a whole bottle of wine to herself. “I'm not going to drink one bottle in an evening to myself,” she moaned and pulled a second bottle from the floor. “I've got two.”
“Aunty, we need to talk,” Jack muttered.
“I'm fine,” she said, dismissing her concerned nephew. “And don't keep your young lady waiting.”
“I won't.” He frowned and crossed his arms. “But you need to stop this drinking and …”
“I am not drinking it on my own,” she snapped. “I am expecting company.”
“Ohhhh,” Paige taunted. “Anyone we know.”
“It does not matter,” she was told. “Now off you go.”
Jack hummed. “Just don't do something stupid, like accept a marriage proposal!”
“I won't,” she replied. “I've got enough toasters!”
Jack shook his head and escorted Paige out of their front door. They expected journalists to be waiting for them, but it was a cold night and they had decamped from outside Lucinda's drive to the subtler location of inside a handful of cars parked on the private road.
Paige grumbled as they drove past. “Can you stop for a moment?” She asked, and Jack looked at her as she did. “I just want a quick word with them.”
“Paige, please.”
“What? Stop. Please.” Jack reluctantly slowed the vehicle and Paige got out the car, walking towards a little Ford Fiesta parked by the side of the road with blacked-out windows. She saw the occupants move as she tapped on the window and Jack got out of his car to watch. “Open,” she barked and the car window slid down. “Just so you know,” she shouted at the middle-aged man sat inside the vehicle so that the entire street could hear. “My band mate and I are going to a restaurant together because we are fed up being stuck in the house. Claire has gone to see her relatives and we are going to the Old Ship Inn, about five miles away. We have a table booked for seven, and I am probably going to order something unhealthy, and Jack will moan at me for doing so. I will have a double vodka and lemonade and chocolate dessert. I am wearing red knickers with a matching bra, and … er … I think that's it.” She glared at him. “What no photographs?”
“Listen love, if you don't want the press to …”
“I am helping you,” Paige said with an ominous smile. “So you can fuck off outside the fucking house. So sling your hook.” She looked at Jack watching her and shrugged.
“Oh, and missy. Your friend ain't with relatives. She’s gone with that agent of yours. We saw them buying tents this morning.”
“You what?” Paige snorted and shook her head. “I don't think so.” Jack watched as Paige walked towards him, shaking her hips from side to side and then getting into Jack's vehicle. “That showed them.”
“You gave them everything they wanted.”
“Yes, and hopefully they will fuck off from outside our house. Well, your Aunt's house.”
“I am not quite sure that's how it works,” Jack muttered as he pulled away from where he was parked. “And I bet we are in the newspapers tomorrow as we leave the pub.”
“I hope not,” Paige replied. “You didn't really believe me when I said I would have one double vodka and lemonade?” It took Jack around fifteen minutes to drive to the pub in the tail end of the rush hour traffic, and he pulled up in the car park and scanned the other vehicles as he got out of his car. Paige's teeth chattered. “What are you looking for?” Paige asked as she waited for her date, and crossed her arms. “It's bloody cold.”
“Should have worn a coat then,” Jack muttered and turned to look at her. “Just looking for paparazzi,” he whispered.
“They could be anywhere,” Paige teased and grabbed hold of his hand. “So what if they are around? I think I look pretty nice tonight. And I think you look pretty good.”
“It's just … weird. Why are we appearing in so many newspapers? So what if we have a best-selling album and a single and a …”
“A story,” Paige told him. “That's what Andre says, we are a story!”
“You're really enjoying this, aren't you?” Jack suggested as he pushed open the door to the pub.
“Yes,” Paige admitted. “I think it's exciting.” She looked at her partner and grinned as she took his hand. “All my life I've loved making music and wished I could be successfu
l. I never thought I would, and I would be too scared, but now people are listening. And they are loving it. Soon they'll get bored of us as a story, but our music will live on. Doesn't that excite you?”
Jack snorted. “I guess.” Her eyes narrowed. “I just wish I could get some escape from it all.”
“You sound just like Claire.”
Chapter XXIII
Jack opened the door to his vehicle and inwardly groaned. There were several cars at unnatural angles in the pub car park, and he looked at Paige. “Not again!”
Paige squinted. “I'm too drunk to say anything,” she told him but gave him a grin. “But come here.” She fell against the car as she scooted around the vehicle and threw her hands around her band mate, kissing him on the cheek, in full view of the cars. “Thank you,” she said loudly. “Thank you for a fantastic night.”
“Paige, what are you doing?” Jack whispered into her ear.
“Teasing,” she sniggered. “Let's not end it here,” she broadcast loudly. “And Jack, where are your hands going!”
Jack rolled his eyes and pulled away from Paige. “Can we go home?” He asked in an annoyed voice and Paige blew him a kiss and trotted around his car to the passenger side of the car. “What the hell was that for?” He asked as she joined him in the car.
“OK chill,” Paige spat. “You know what they wanted.”
“But why do you insist on trying to give it to them?” Jack asked as he started the engine. “We are going to be all over the papers now.”
“We were always going to be all over the papers,” Paige replied. “At least this way we have some idea of the story they are going to run.” She smiled and pulled a funny face at him. “Laugh!” She poked her tongue out and wiggled it as he looked away.
“Stop it!” He barked. “I'm driving.”
“Angry Jack is boring Jack,” Paige teased. “And according to the papers we are … what's the word … romantically attached.” Jack grunted and swung the car onto the main road. “And probably we will be having a night of knee-trembling passion.” She put her hands on his and stretched her legs into the footwell. “Of course, if we open the bedroom windows, I am sure I can fake an orgasm loud enough for them to hear,” she teased.
“You will not,” Jack demanded and looked at his band mate bursting into hysterics.
“S'ok, I wasn't really going to.” She rubbed her hand along the back of Jack's hand, resting on the gear stick. “I don't know how to fake one,” she said with a glint in her eye. “But thanks, it's been a great evening. I've really enjoyed myself. I mean, I know you are a posh bastard, and all that, but when you want to, you can actually be quite nice.”
The Bare Necessities Page 24
