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Copyright © 2022 by Scarlett Cole
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
While Manchester rock bands are legends and famous for their antics, the Sad Fridays are purely a work of fiction.
Published By: Kadelo Group Ltd.
Edited by: Angela James
Cover design by: Letitia Hasser at RBA Design
E-book ISBN: 978-1-7398672-4-9
Paperback ISBN: 978-1-7398672-3-2
Author’s Note
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilogue
Epilogue: Ben
Thank you
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Scarlett Cole
CONTENTS
Tomyteeninpearls. Iwantedyoutoseeyourselfinmystories.
Toseethatoneday,you’ll findanotherhumanbeingwhoseesyouandlovesyou asfiercelyasIdo. Andtheywon’texpectyoutochange, becauseyouareperfectasyouare.
Alex King, percussionist and second drummer in Sad Fridays, woke to the sound of his alarm. A Brazilian jazz samba, played on the drums, with a syncopated surdo played on the bass and hi-hat. He took a deep breath as fleeting images of a beach in Ipanema burst into his consciousness along with the realisation the heat he felt had more to do with the man pressed up against his body than the sunny music playing from his phone.
“Are you going to turn it off?” Ollie turned in Alex’s arms, attempting to kiss him.
“It’ll turn itself off in a minute. I like it. But it also means you have to go.”
Ollie pouted. “Can’t we stay in bed just a bit longer? It’s so early.” His hands slid over Alex’s hip, gripping it firmly. “Nope.”
The front door slammed. Must be Jase, his cousin and the band’s lead singer, returning from his girlfriend, Cerys’s house, just down the street. Which meant he really did have to get up and get moving. “Things to do. People to see. The tour starts today, and I need to finish packing.”
He threw back the covers and climbed out of bed to drag on a pair of loose sweatpants. Ollie groaned as he followed suit, tugging on clothes that had been hastily abandoned on the floor the previous evening. Something that, in hindsight, had felt a little desperate on Ollie’s part. He couldn’t decide if Ollie had just gone overkill on fuck-the-rockstar role play or wanted to leave some kind of lasting impression before Alex went on the road for the next six weeks.
Alex hoped Ollie knew better than to ask to stay for a shower or breakfast or, well, anything. It was the fourth time he’d stayed the night in the last month, something Alex realised he needed to put a stop to. Ollie had become a little too starstruck for it to be real, their relationship convenient rather than special.
Special was something Alex wanted desperately, even if his whole life was built around the image he didn’t.
“I know the tour is super important to you, but I wondered if there was any room for me in it all. Like, I’d love to share it with you and be backstage with the rest of the band. Meet the opening acts. A VIP pass would be so extra if you could get me one,” Ollie said, as if reading his mind.
Alex stepped up to him, cupping the back of his neck firmly. “It was fun, Ollie. But it’s done.”
Eyes the colour of sea glass studied him earnestly. “I thought we had a connection.”
“We did. We wouldn’t have fucked otherwise. But that’s all it was. Sex. Fun.”
Ollie’s shoulders sagged. “I figured you might say that. I wanted to share your rise with you.”
Alex tried not to frown as Ollie’s words confirmed his suspicions. “Not going to happen, Ollie. You’ll make someone a great partner.”
He wanted to add something about dropping the slight neediness but didn’t.
“Just not yours?”
Alex huffed. “Not mine. I don’t want a partner. Never have,” he lied.
And therein was the dichotomy.
He’d seen a so-called loving marriage up close. It looked like his mum flinching every time his dad stood up to go take a leak. He saw his friends dip their toes into relationships. Matt, their songwriter, bassist, and Jase’s brother, had hooked up with their drummer, Luke’s, little sister, Iz. It had brought nothing but strife to the band, and they’d almost lost Luke because of it. Hell, at one point, he wasn’t sure the band would even recover. Matt had proposed to Iz on the one-year anniversary of their first kiss.
Luke, who’d been pissed at Matt, had fallen for Willow Warner, the Shamaze app star who’d used one of the band’s songs in one of her videos, catapulting them to their current fame. Now Willow was only a couple of months from giving birth to a baby Luke was now crazy about. Cletus, he called the poor thing, though the baby’s official name would be Zale. But even that brought its own problems, with Luke reluctant to be on tour so close to the baby’s birth.
Then there was Jase, who had met Cerys while they’d been recording their album in Detroit. Even their relationship hadn’t been smooth sailing. No relationship ever seemed to be.
Plus, his own experiences of finding the one had always ended in such dire failure, he honestly didn’t think his heart could take another beating. Better to keep what was left of it protected in metaphorical bubble wrap.
Only his brother, Ben, and he were still single. Well, arguably Ben wasn’t, because Chaya was always around.
They were all trying to make love and monogamy and life and dreams work in a stifling straitjacket.
Plus, he wasn’t sure his perfect person existed. Someone independent in life yet willing to submit in bed. Someone who could shift to accommodate his ever-changing needs and moods. Domineering one day, sensual or playful the next. Someone willing to try new things.
A loud hammering on Alex’s bedroom door made Ollie jump.
“Let’s go, lovers,” Jase shouted from the hallway. His cousin was loud but had always been his biggest cheerleader, allowing him a safe space to express who he was.
Alex tipped his head in the direction of the door.
“Okay,” Ollie said. “But you have my number, right? In case things change.”
“I do. Keep safe, yeah?”
He stood in place until he heard the front door slam, then he stretched his hands over his head, before reaching them down to the floor. Sex followed by a solid sleep always made him feel better. The shitty morning farewells, not so much.
His bedroom door burst open, and Jase danced in. “Mornin’. Are you packed?”
“Are you ever going to knock?”
“I heard the door slam. Knew lover boy had left. Saw the weeping, pitiful look on his face as he trudged down the stairs.”
“A. Not lover boy. B. He was not weeping. C. Knock on the fucking door so you don’t catch me doing something neither of us would want you to see.” He untied the black silk currently wrapped around his bedposts. Two. One for each of Ollie’s wrists. He tossed
top. Shit like, ‘she was his, and when he’d finished fucking her, she’d realise it.’”
“That sounds a bit rapey.”
Jase nodded. “Then there was one about how she didn’t want him but needed his money to pay down college debt.”
“She couldn’t just get a job like the rest of us?”
“Something to do with a sick mom, and medical bills. I don’t know. Apparently, it’s a trope.”
“A trope?”
“Don’t ask. I did and it’s half an hour of my life I’ll never get back.”
“Were you guys able to persuade her to join us on tour last night?”
Jase shook his head. “Cerys tried one last time because she’s hoping it will get Zoe excited to play again.”
Cerys and Zoe had attended the Royal Northern College of Music together. Cerys, a pianist turned talented music producer, and Zoe, an exceptional percussionist who had dropped out in her final year as her hearing had deteriorated. “Fair enough. I need to shower. Feel like making us breakfast?”
“I’m on it.”
While conditioning his blond curls so they didn’t end up a complete frizz ball, he thought about Zoe. Going deaf right near the end of her music degree was about as tough as it got. But Zoe was strong. She appeared to have navigated it with grace. And if she was angry, she didn’t show it.
Instead, she just got the fuck on with it.
When Zoe and Cerys were both over, they watched TV shows with the subtitles on, and he and Jase were learning sign language.
He enjoyed the expressiveness of it, even though it was tough to learn.
But a part of him wondered whether Cerys’s attempts at pulling Zoe back to what had once been her passion was challenging someone to live their best life or just plain cruel. He loved Cerys in a sisterly way, but he wasn’t sure where the line was between being there for a friend, and stepping into an ableist saviour role, no matter how well intentioned it was.
Fuck knows people tried it on with him all the time.
Once he’d dried off, he grabbed black joggers out of his wardrobe and pulled them on along with his favourite black mesh top. He added a strand of pearls. Pearls Nan had worn on her wedding day, hard-earned by her miner father. She’d given them to Alex on his last birthday. They were his favourite and most precious thing. Too much for a day on the tour bus driving up to Aberdeen to start the tour, but they did wonders for his mood.
When the tickets for the shows had gone on sale, they’d sold out so quickly additional dates had been added. There was a chance it might expand even further. Europe, perhaps. America even.
It was the chance of a lifetime. The tour was a mix of large venues and stadiums. The musician life they’d been leading, only this time done in comfort. Decent tour buses instead of their drummer, Luke’s, battered van. Nicer hotels and no more sharing rooms. Making money every single night to a sold-out crowd. And not having to worry about the logistics.
When he’d thrown his black nail polish, condoms, and lube into his toiletries, he placed it in his luggage and hauled his case and hold-all down the narrow staircase. The scent of bacon filled the air, causing his stomach to rumble. He walked into the kitchen, surprised
to find Jase sitting at the table and the person he loved most in the world making food.
“Morning, sweetheart,” she said.
“Morning, Nan.” Seventy-seven-year-old Rhoda Palmer stood in front of the grill. “What are you doing here?”
Nan cracked eggs into the frying pan. “Jase video called me with puppy dog eyes and begged me to come and make you breakfast. Said I couldn’t send you off into the world without one of my famous breakfast baps.”
He turned back to Jase. “You got Nan out of bed at seven in the morning to make us breakfast?”
Jase grinned. “She loves us, Alex. And her love language is making us food. Who am I to deprive her of chances to show us how much she loves us?”
Alex laughed. “You really are a dick.” He grabbed a slice of bacon currently resting on kitchen towel.
Nan smacked the back of his hand. “Get your hands off.”
He munched on the bacon. “You know you love me.”
“But she came because I’m her favourite grandson and she can’t say no to me,” Jase said.
“Don’t think so. She gave me her pearls. You love me more, right, Nan?”
Nan pulled the sausages from the pan and began cutting them in half. “I don’t love you half a penny more, or Jase half a penny less. I love you both exactly the same. And I gave you those pearls because I didn’t want them wasting away in my drawer when I knew you’d wear them.”
Alex watched as she placed two sausages on the floury white baps first, followed by slices of bacon, then she topped it with a fried egg.
“HP?” she asked.
“Please,” they both replied in unison. Alex’s mouth began to water as he watched her load up the brown sauce.
“Are you not having one?” Alex asked as she placed the finished product on the table in front of him.
“Oh, I already had my bowl of Raisin Bran. Doctor said to keep my passages clear I need more fibre.”
“Why did Alex get the first one?” Jase whined.
Nan fluffed Jase’s hair. “Because you need to be put in place occasionally, Jason Palmer.”
When Nan returned to get Jase’s, Alex gave him the finger.
“Fuck you,” Jase mouthed, playfully.
Alex masterfully grasped the well stacked bap and took a bite, groaning as runny egg yolk slid down his fingers.
When Nan brought them large mugs of steaming tea and then sat down to join them, she studied each of them. “You’re both going to be good boys on this tour, right? If I see either of you on the news or in the papers for anything other than great concerts, you’ll be answering to me. Am I understood?”
Alex choked on his breakfast. “What exactly do you think we’re going to get up to?”
“Remember Brighton?” she asked.
When Jase had stormed off stage.
“Or Coventry?” she added.
When Alex had gone home with a couple who had gone to the press about their night together. Nothing quite like your sexual preferences being outed by total strangers. Now speculation raged. Was he bi? Was he a third or in a throuple? A switch? Gay? He’d not felt the need to clarify he was pansexual because he knew it would open him up to a whole other line of questioning.
“Fair point,” Jase said. “But that was B.C.”
“Before Christ?” Nan asked.
Jase laughed. “No. Before Cerys. Detroit was a turning point, Nan. Don’t worry. I won’t be marching off stage.”
Nan patted Jase’s hand. “Good. And you?” She turned to face him.
“I’ll be good, Nan.” And he would, because not only had he become more discrete, but he had a bet to keep him entertained.
With Zoe Atkins. If he could just get her on the damn bus.
Jase’s phone rang fifteen minutes later, just as they’d sent Nan on her way with hugs all around. “Hey, sunshine. Miss me already?” There was a pause, then he shoved the chair back. “It what? Stay out of there. I’m on my way.”
Alex stood. “What happened?”
“Their kitchen roof just collapsed.”
Zoe Atkins looked up at the ceiling of the kitchen that was now a giant hole. Yellow insulation, cracked plaster, the dangling wires of the lights, and beams that ran the length of the house were all exposed. Chunks of plasterboard adorned the island and the floor. Plasterboard which had grazed her shoulder as it fell.
The still-steaming coffee cup was on the counter across the kitchen where she had left it. But the path to it was treacherous given her bare feet and shaking knees. Her reflection in the microwave door revealed wide eyes and dust-covered hair.
Water dripped, which, combined with the electrics was not a good thing.
give you a headache. He wore a delicate knit top with holes between the stitches. She could make out his ink, but not the designs.
Carefully, Alex eased Zoe back a fraction and picked a piece of fluff out of her hair. “You were lucky you weren’t standing beneath it. It’s wet. Looks heavy.”
Zoe nodded. “And it came between me and coffee.”
Alex grinned. “Well, I can fix that.” Carefully, with one eye on the ceiling, he stepped through the debris, tipped her coffee into the sink, rinsed the cup, and then poured her a fresh cup. “M-i-l-k?” he fingerspelled.
“Please,” she signed.
As Alex grabbed milk and Jase inspected the damage, Zoe looked over to Cerys. “How did we end up hanging around rock stars?” she signed. “Like, there are two of them in our kitchen right now.”
With a shrug, Cerys grinned. “I don’t know, but I licked Jase so he’s mine,” she signed. Cerys looked immediately over to Jase and laughed. “He lovingly said to stop signing about him behind his back.”
“Sorry, Jase,” Zoe said, not remotely sorry.
In the seven months since music producer Cerys had fallen in love with Jase, Zoe had gotten to know the band well. They were related for the most part. Jase and his brother, Matt, were cousins to Ben and Alex. Matt’s best friend, Luke, was their drummer. But more than lines on a family tree, they were close. The kind of staggeringly close Zoe couldn’t comprehend. With no siblings and only her parents still alive, her family was small. But the Sad Fridays? Their family was big. Loyal. The centre of everything they did. They lived near each other, surrounding their nan. They worked together. Toured together.
Sometimes it was overwhelming when they were all together. It was impossible to keep up with the conversation.
But she also envied them. To have all that family and feel so thoroughly accepted for who you were, to have so many people back you up, must feel wonderful.
Maybe it was being from a small family, or perhaps it was a result of the bullying she’d endured as a child at school which had left her isolated, sometimes she felt overwhelmed around them all.
Perhaps it was why she’d once hoped to find her place and gain respect within an orchestra, but somehow her world was still small.
Alex mindlessly stirred her coffee as he chatted with Jase about the water pipe, and she realised that despite the fact they were world-famous rock stars, they were just normal men.
She knew Alex had no shame having the last serving of anything, Jase would dance while he cooked, Matt hated rom coms, Luke was the worst person to sit next to on the sofa because of the way his leg jiggled constantly, and watching Ben around his best friend, Chaya, was a study in unrequited love.
It was weird to feel wanted, to have so many people in her business. Yet, for some reason, the band had adopted her. Their girlfriends had adopted her. Their nan had adopted her. It felt uncomfortable, yet exquisitely precious. Something she wanted badly but struggled to cope with.
“It’s a sign,” Cerys signed.
“Of what?” Zoe replied.
“You have to come on tour with us now. You can’t live here while it’s like this. It’ll take an age to fix it.”
Zoe rolled her eyes. Cerys and the band had been trying to persuade her to join them since the planning stages of the tour. At first, an informal offer had been on the table for Zoe to help Cerys,
who would be the tour’s sound engineer. But it had quickly become apparent at rehearsals she was surplus to requirements.
So, Zoe had extricated herself from the offer by continuing to build her freelance career so she had a valid excuse to stay home.
A career she didn’t love but could do to avoid being around a career she loved but couldn’t do anymore.
Okay, it was a flimsy excuse. The majority of her work was virtual; she could do it anywhere.
“Hey, guys,” Cerys signed and said. “I’m just saying Zoe now has a reason to come.”
Jase put his arms over Cerys’s shoulders. “Yeah, come with us, Zoe. You can work from anywhere.”
“I don’t have hotel rooms booked.”
“I can share with my brother or something until we can sort that out,” Alex said.
“Or we can sleep on the bus. It’ll be like camping,” Cerys said. “Please, Zoe. Don’t miss out on this.”
The feel of all their eyes on her was so overwhelming. Zoe stepped into the living room out of everyone’s intense gaze.
Cerys was right in one way. Their landlord was terrible for organising workmen to come to the property. When the boiler had broken, it had taken three weeks. The water would need to be turned off. Probably the electricity.
She could go stay with her parents, but her mum would only try to pressure her to return to her percussion career.
She fiddled with her earrings. They were her favourites, but Zoe tried not to overthink why. The silver and black ceramic talon earrings had been a gift from her parents for passing her A-Levels and landing a place at The Royal Northern College of Music. Her life and career path had been so clearly laid out. Graduate top of her
class, take her Music Masters at Royal Holloway where she’d focus on percussion and writing for ensemble. Blaze her own trail, taking her lead from pioneering percussionists like Mino Cinelu and artists like Sheila E.
Her favourite had always been Dame Evelyn Glennie, but now her very existence was weaponised against her. Like Zoe, Dame Evelyn was deaf. “If she can, you can,” had become the motto of just about everyone she knew. Her mum and dad liked to remind her frequently. They’d send her links to articles about her, or videos to motivate her to continue the same path.
Zoe knew intellectually how it worked, and at many levels already felt it. The vibration through the floor, through her bones, and hairs on her arms and neck and forehead. It allowed music to play on in Dame Evelyn’s head.
She’d once watched a TED talk given by the drummer of Preload, Lennon McCartney, talking about how his prosthetic arm made his drumming better and had made him a better person. But he’d acknowledged at the time of the accident he’d wanted to shoot every single person who brought up Rick Allen from Def Leppard, who also played with one arm.
She just wasn’t ready for it.
She might never be ready for it.
And the people around needed to get used to the idea. Especially her mum.
Alex stepped into the room and finally handed her the mug of coffee. “Come, Zoe. It’ll be fun. And…” he leaned closer to her hearing aid. “You hear this okay?” he said, his voice low.
Zoe nodded. Lower tones, nearer her aids, meant she was most likely to hear him.
“I can deliver on our bet.”
Another reason she hadn’t wanted to go on tour.
The deal.
She thought back to the day of the album release when Willow had thrown them a party to celebrate. He’d slid into the chair next to her to encourage her to go talk to an attractive looking server. Dark hair, lean build.
They’d bickered. She’d told Alex to go flirt with him given Alex seemed to have no gender preferences and an exceptionally keen eye for an attractive human.
Alex had been adamant she should try.
She’d asked why she would want to do that. And Alex had called her out on not dating or hooking up. It had been hard enough finding a half-decent guy on a dating app before. Being introverted made walking up to a guy in a bar impossible. Add relying on sign language, lipreading, and transcription apps and it felt like it was more effort than it was worth.
When she’d tried to deflect, Alex had doubled down.
He’d made her a bet. A hundred quid he could hook her up before the end of the tour.
“Who said anything about a boyfriend? Hook ups. An amazing nightofsexwithastranger.Nostringsattached,”he’d said.
“No. I don’t remember any bet.” She sipped on her coffee.
“Hotel. You and me. You all tongue-out-drooling over the Italian server. You thought I was suggesting some friends with benefits arrangement you called bleak.”
Zoe smirked. Even though she didn’t catch every word, she understood the gist of it. She had said that, although she hadn’t been as outraged as he’d assumed.
“Still don’t remember,” she said.
cushions and curtains. The kitchenette was simple but stocked. A sink on one end, a kettle and a toaster on the other.
“This is fancier than I expected. But it also has a weird prom limo vibe with the blue LED beneath everything,” she said as they passed the downstairs bathroom to head up to the second floor.
“Yeah, it has,” Alex said.
When they reached the top, she paused for him to reach her.
“Sorry,” he said. “I said “Yeah it has” on the way up the stairs then realised you likely didn’t hear.”
“I did. Bizarrely, because of where the hearing aids sit on your ear, you can often hear what’s being said behind you easier than what is being said in front of you.”
Alex glanced at her hearing aid. “Huh. Makes sense.”
“It’s my superpower…being able to hear people when they make snide comments behind my back.”
“Hopefully that doesn’t happen too often.”
She looked at the curtained cubbies. “You’d be surprised how mean people can be.”
Alex shrugged. “You’re looking at the guy who was walloped with a cricket bat and told to man up by his dad when he came out. Been dealing with that shit ever since. I get how people can be mean.”
“Alex,” she said, touching his forearm. “People are dicks. I don’t particularly like them as a general rule.”
“I try to believe in humanity and its capacity for good.”
“Are the bunks assigned?”
He shook his head. “Luke and Willow are having the bedroom given she’s only ten weeks from giving birth. And there’s only one set of bunks this side of the stairs. The other side has two sets before the sofa at the end. So, I’m guessing this end would be less busy.”
“Perfect.”
Alex threw his bag, pillow, and phone onto the upper bunk on the right of the corridor. Then he slipped her bag off her shoulder and placed it on the bunk to the left for her. Footsteps thundered through the bus, and it wasn’t long before everyone had claimed a bunk.
Ed, the tour manager, appeared. “Is everyone settled?” he asked, and everyone nodded.
“We’ll hit the road, then. I’ll be on the crew bus, but you can call me if you need anything. Otherwise, see you in Aberdeen.”
She didn’t catch every word, but it was enough. They were off.
She was going on tour with a rock band.
She had a rock star wingman.
And despite her reservations, she was going to try her damnedest to enjoy it.
“We’re going to the pool,” Luke said, taking the weight of Willow’s bump in his hands as he stood behind her. It helped ease the weight off Willow’s back apparently, plus, it was obvious to anyone with half a brain that Luke found Willow’s changing body hot as fuck. He could barely keep his hands off her on the best of days.
“Buoyancy is good at this point,” Willow said.
Luke nipped the side of her neck. “So is you in a bikini.”
“I bought a…what do you Brits call it? A swimming costume? A one-piece? Nobody needs to be seeing the bowling ball that is my stomach.”
Luke booed loudly, making everyone laugh.
“I need a shower and Cerys is going to wash me,” Jase said.
“Jesus Christ, be subtle why don’t you.” Cerys grinned and signed like she had for the rest of their conversation so Zoe could understand.
“The sooner I get to the point, the sooner we can go get on with it. Dinner around eight? Someone message me where.” Jase playfully dragged Cerys to the elevator.
“Me and Iz are hitting the pool too,” Matt said, throwing his arm around his fiancée’s shoulder.
Alex glanced over at Zoe. “What are you doing before dinner?”
“I thought I’d take a walk around Old Aberdeen. Get some fresh air after being cooped up on the bus all day. You?”
“I was thinking the same thing. Ben? What about you and Chaya?”
“We’re going to get a drink before dinner. Find a real local pub, one with a chance of some live music. Want to come with?”
“Text me when you settle on somewhere. Maybe after a walk with Zoe, I’ll join you depending on time. Can you find somewhere for dinner?”
are we just wandering?”
“I have a plan. Somewhere a bit odd.”
“Sounds ominous.”
“I need to make this count as exercise so can we walk briskly?”
Alex laughed. “What an odd question, but sure. You set the speed.” With their height difference at nearly a foot, she could probably run, and he’d still be able to walk next to her and keep up.
It was chilly when they stepped outside. The wind had whipped up, throwing leaves and the occasional bit of rubbish into the air. Alex tightened the collar of his jacket around him, glad of his hat. “Might need to get a bit of a jog on to keep warm.”
“It’s harder to hear when it’s this windy and you are alongside me instead of opposite.”
Alex turned his face towards her as he walked. “We might need to jog to keep warm.”
It took them about twenty minutes to enter the University of Aberdeen grounds. Zoe opened her phone, looked at something, then closed it again.
“Are we supposed to be in here?” he asked.
Zoe nodded. “It’s an open campus. A-ha. There.”
She pointed in the direction of a low brick wall. Behind it was an old van that made him think of Luke’s van, the one they’d toured in before they’d hit the big leagues. Next to it was a fence. It looked like a dead end. “I’m not seeing anything.”
“Follow me.” She motioned with her hand.
They wandered down a narrow, overgrown alleyway. “Zoe,” he said, when she turned to face him halfway along. “This looks like the kind of alleyway people get killed in and their bodies remain unfound for about three weeks until they start to smell.”
Zoe laughed. “Did you just say we’re going to get murdered?”
“Yes. A very old and special one. It was named after a famous church…hang on…” Zoe opened her phone again. “Sancta Maria Maggiore ad Nives, Saint Mary of the Snows. The church was lost in the fifteen hundreds or something like that.”
“What language is that?” Alex said. “Suiprincepsquifates…”
Zoe glanced down at the gravestone he was looking at. “Doesn’t princepsmean chief or something like that? If I had to guess, I’d say Latin. It sounds like a suitably old church-ish language, right?”
“Yeah, I guess. Look at this one. Says he was the fourth son. Like, why is it relevant?”
Zoe peered at the headstone. “It was a tradition thing, right. First borns were the ones who inherited the titles and got all the money. All the rest were just supposed to marry well and take secondary titles. I suppose it also indirectly says how fertile Dad was. Like, he was the fourth of seven, good job with your super sperm, Dad.”
Alex choked out a laugh. “Yeah.”
They wandered around a little longer. “I’d like to think that when I die, there’s a legacy left behind,” Zoe said. “Not a physical memorial to me in a specific time and place that future generations will feel an obligation to prune and put flowers on once a year. I wouldn’t want to become someone else’s obligation.”
“I’ve never thought about cemeteries like that before. But I see your point. Like, I wonder if the descendants of any of these people come and visit. Or if they even know this is where their ancestors are buried. Shit, I’m not even sure I know where my grandad ended up. Cremated I think, but I have no clue where the ashes are.”
Zoe looked up at him, her hazel eyes flecked with gold. “Does it matter, though? It’s the good you did in life, not the location of your bones you’ll be remembered for. It’s what you built, who you inspired, the moments you gave people. Shit, performing felt like
The following evening, Alex stood next to the stage watching the opening act, and for all the chaos and noise and people around him, inside he felt stiller than a statue. Everything felt quiet, and for a moment he thought about all the days and nights he’d served other people coffee as they went about their lives, went about conquering their dreams. He’d watch entitled twats at the coffee table talk about how they were going to fudge where their start-up was at to get over a million in funding. He’d seen a couple break up, a woman cheat, and a guy pass a total stranger his phone number on a piece of paper.
He’d seen the woman smile as she’d watched him walk away. Every shift, there was some kid from uni on the roster, working as hard as they could to pay fees and keep a roof over their head. And he’d seen other uni kids mock them.
He’d often thought a coffee shop was a microcosm of balance. The good with the bad. The starts and the ends. All carried out over a drink made from beans from halfway around the world.
And now it was histime.
Alex stepped back away from the stage and grinned at his cousin. “We made it, Jase.”
Jase bounced on his toes as he often did before a gig. Hyping himself up to step out onto the stage and own it. “Fucking surreal. Remember the day about four years ago. The van broke down, and we had to leave it on the side of the street. Caught a cab to the venue, a pub in Ashton, and when we got there, there were exactly seventeen people in there. Wasted more money on the cab than we made.”
Alex swigged the rest of his beer and placed the bottle on the table. “Ben fixed the van at midnight while we all dozed in the back.”
“Did you ever think we’d looked back on those days as good memories? I remember it being miserable. Raining for hours straight. Ben, drenched though under the hood. But now it’s almost…”
“Nostalgic.”
“Yeah.”
Matt hurried by, talking furiously with Ed.
Jase sighed. “Matt always put too much pressure on himself. I’ll go see if I can get him to calm down.”
“Hi, Alex,” a young woman said in a thick Aberdeen accent as Jase walked away. Ripped jeans hung low on her hips.
“Hey. You’re with the opening act, right?” The act whose name he couldn’t remember. Which was shitty of him. But with a different opening act in each city, it was hard to remember.
“Aye. Hawk, the bass guitarist, is my brother. I’m Sadie.”
“Nice to meet you, Sadie. They sound good.”
“Not as fine as you lot are though. I love your band’s music. Wondered if I could get a photo.”
“Sure,” Alex said, making sure his T-shirt was straight before smiling. “Here, give me your phone, my arm’s longer.”
As he held the phone out, Sadie wrapped her arms around his waist and placed her head on his chest, just resting on the spot below his shoulder. Her long sable hair tickled his arm as he wrapped his arm around her.
Bright blue eyes and a wide smile reflected back at him from her phone screen.
When he handed the camera back to her, she kept one arm around him.
“We’re going out to a club after the gig. You should come with us,” Sadie said, as her hand slid into the back pocket of his jeans,
reassuring him he wasn’t misreading the signals.
“That might have been fun if we were staying in the city and not heading straight for Glasgow on the bus after the gig.” Gently, he stroked his fingertips along the strip of skin between her jeans and the little cropped black top she wore.
Sadie looked around. “Hawk’s dressing room is empty right now. And I happen to know they still have four songs left.”
Fifteen minutes. Time Pressure. And a risk they could be caught. All perfect elements to hold his interest. And truth be told, his energy was revving a little high ahead of the gig. Taking it down a notch or two might be a good idea.
“That’s a fucking great idea, Sadie,” he said. But just as he was about to take her hand, to lead her toward the corridor with the dressing rooms, he spotted Zoe sitting by herself on top of one of the large cases for their lighting gear.
She scrolled through her phone, while everyone else was chatting and enjoying themselves.
He squeezed Sadie’s hand and took a few more steps, and then sighed. Carefully, he put his hand to Sadie’s cheek. “Shit. Sorry. While it sounds like fun, I just realised I need to go check on someone.”
Sadie placed her hand over his. “You sure I can’t persuade you? I know it’s a total cliche to make out with a rock star like a groupie. So, if I came off a bit desperate, I’m sorry.”
“Definitely not you. Definitely not desperate.”
“Can I give you my number then?”
He looked at Sadie. Pretty. Sweet. Eager to please. And a long fistful of hair he’d like to hold on to.
Damn.
He should, but…