Chapter Thirteen
Keith had some nerve asking that. I threw my brush down, faced him and began to rant. “Oh, where do I start? Do I start with Ryan dumping me in a corner where I couldn’t see the band. After the show no one came so I had to lug two heavy boxes across the entire club. Then all Ryan says is how many did you sell while you were getting chummy with that groupie.”
Keith looked confused. “Groupie? Ryan doesn’t allow groupies backstage. He says they’re a distraction.”
“It was that girl who was all over you at the chips shop and you were all chummy with her.”
I studied his face. He didn’t look the least bit guilty. “I was interviewing with her. If it looked chummy, as you put it, it was because I had to lean close to hear what she said. As for no relief, I’m sorry. Ryan was busy with crowd control. He overlooked getting someone to sell tapes. We’re very grateful you did it.”
“You had a fine way of showing it. I barely saw anything and seeing how you put on a stellar performance anyway, proves you don’t need me after all.”
He embraced me. “That’s not true. I knew you were doing an important job. If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll have Ryan collects the tapes tomorrow so you can watch.”
I felt a little better. “I’d like that.”
“I don’t know why you were so late. Ryan was looking for you everywhere.”
“I was looking for him. No one believed me when I said I was with the band and the bloke at the door wouldn’t let me in unless I performed a lewd sexual favor.”
“I’m sorry everything went wrong for you tonight. I cut the interview short when Ryan said you left.”
I pulled away. “Everything did go wrong. I was so looking forward to tonight too.”
“Tomorrow Ryan’ll give you a pass and you’ll see the show. I don’t know why you’re so insecure. I won’t take off with some groupie.”
I glared at him. “Well, your behavior hardly gives me security.”
“What behavior?”
“Making kissy faces at girls on stage.”
He still didn’t look guilty. “It’s an act. I’m devoted to you.”
I walked to the bed and flopped onto it. I wasn’t feeling much better. Keith sat beside me and caressed me.
I sighed. “Those girls don’t know it’s an act.”
“That doesn’t matter. I am not interested in them.”
“Okay, I believe you.” I felt better, but was still disappointed over the night’s events. Unfortunately my mother woke me from a sound sleep at eight. I was barely able to pick up the phone, let alone speak.
“Obviously I woke you. Are you not supposed to be at a seminar this morning?”
I may have been half awake but could think on my feet. Lord knows I’d been getting enough practice. “We’re going this afternoon instead. We were out late.”
“What could you possibly be doing out so late?”
“We were experiencing the night life.”
“It is not safe for you to be out late.”
“It’s perfectly safe. Our hotel is close to everything and the streets aren’t deserted.”
“I hope you are not spending all your money.”
“The opposite. Some bloke saw me doing illustrations of the city and paid me fifty pounds to do his portrait.”
“You be careful about young men asking you to do things like that. They tend to have one thing on their mind.”
“I declined his offer to show me around. I wouldn’t abandon my friends.”
“Tres bien, you need not wake your friends. I left messages last night and worried when you did not call.”
I hung up, but couldn’t get back to sleep. Having a private bathroom was a temptation. I could use a long soak. I slowly peeled back the blankets and stepped out of bed when Keith grabbed me, making me squeal. “I thought you were still asleep.”
“The phone woke me. What’s this about some bloke paying you to do his portrait? Did you make that up for your mum?”
“It really happened. I’m fifty pounds richer.”
“So while you complain about me getting friendly with fans, you’re out getting friendly with the local blokes?”
“I only drew his portrait.”
“How come it’s no big deal when some bloke is foaming at the mouth over you but it’s not okay for me?”
F”It’s hard seeing girls fawning over you. I’m invisible.”
“Most those girls are so shallow they only see what they’re focusing on. You were never like that. That’s why I wanted you. Your parents are filling your head with this nonsense that I’ll break your heart. They’re treating you like you’re twelve.”
I flopped back on the bed. “You’re right about that.”
“Let’s forget about groupies and parents. The morning is ours.” He began fondling me and I felt myself being sucked in.
I ran my hands between his legs and within a few minutes we were going at it. As I clung to Keith enjoying the euphoria now enveloping me, the tension of the previous night melted away. Everything was again right with the world. The morning was ours.
When Keith lay breathless beside me, he rolled over and kissed me. “What shall we do this morning?”
“Room service for starters. I don’t fancy any groupie encounters now that I have you to myself. I’m also dying for a soak.”
“I’d love to be your bar of soap.” He shot me a naughty grin.
I giggled. “I’ll manage. You order breakfast.”
He bowed. “My Liege.”
I laughed again.
I filled the bath and slipped beneath the soothing hot suds. What was left of my tension slipped away. Soon Keith popped in telling me breakfast would arrive soon. He gave a sly grin, handing me a towel. “It’s a shame to cover that gorgeous body.”
Breakfast arrived and I devoured a strawberry waffle with an extra plate of kippers as if I hadn’t eaten in days, before we left to explore Liverpool. We walked along the river, watching the ferries cross and imagined what it was like in Beatle time. When John and Paul met in 1957, John was my age. I bet neither of them had to contend with their mothers calling them every day. I painted the ferry crossing the river while Keith played guitar. I wished the morning would last forever.
“It’s getting past noon, luv,” Keith said. “I have another sound check at four.”
“I don’t want to return to reality yet. Besides, I really want to visit the Walker Gallery. It will offer more proof to my mother I was here doing what I said.”
“Visiting an art gallery is not high on my list.”
“Going to practices and sound checks isn’t high on mine, but I go to be with you.”
“Yeah, but you like the music. It’s not that I hate art, I just don’t fancy going to a gallery. We can meet up after sound check.”
“Fine. Go be with your mates.” I stashed away my art.
“Come on, luv, don’t be cross. We spent the entire morning together. We’ll have lunch together and meet at the Cavern at half past four.”
I relented, but was disappointed. We found a pizza place with cozy nooks so no one could see us. Keith ordered a pint of Guinness while I opted for a glass of red wine. It was a nice, uninterrupted lunch, though I watched with trepidation as Keith ordered another pint before we’d finished. I didn’t mention it, lest it spoil our wonderful morning.
We parted with a long kiss. “You stay safe,” Keith told me.
I smiled. “I promise, Daddy.”
We kissed once more before heading in separate directions.
After consulting my map, I found the Walker Gallery, a large gray structure with a pillared entrance. I wished I had my girlfriends
with me now. An hour later I headed back outside and found the churchyard where John and Paul met. It was the perfect day for being outside — sunny, with a light breeze. The church was a plain, red brick structure with a single steeple, but was a place of legend and the assorted tombstones scattered about added to the scenery. I set up my paints and easel and went to work. While waiting for my painting to dry, I wandered through the tombstones, happening upon one bearing the name Eleanor Rigby — obviously the inspiration for the song. I rummaged through my satchel and pulled out my camera. I wished Keith was with me. I would love to take his picture in front of it. Then I had a brilliant idea. I could illustrate pictures of the band onto postcards to sell at shows. I pulled out some cards and drew a couple of Keith with his guitar and a couple of the entire band. I managed to draw six in an hour, before stashing them in my satchel and gathering up my painting. I caught the next bus to the Cavern. I was late.
I noticed Mr. Beefcake standing guard again, but he’d remember me now.
“You again?” he said. “Are you taking me up on my offer?”
“In your dreams,” I responded. “But this is reality and I’d rather not lose my lunch.”
He didn’t have the decency to feel insulted. Instead he laughed at me. “You’re a feisty little thing, aren’t you?”
“Will you just let me in? I’m not playing games with you.”
“You’re too late. They all left ‘bout half an hour ago.”
“Nice of Keith to wait,” I grumbled under my breath.
Ryan never gave me a pass, but Keith would surely return to the hotel after sound check. I was hungry and hoped we’d find another secluded place for dinner.
Keith wasn’t in the room. I went to the lobby and had the clerk ring everyone else’s room but no one answered. Undoubtedly they were all together. That was why Keith was anxious to get back. He wanted to spend time with his mates. Was I just a convenience while his mates slept? Maybe he was at the chips shop from the previous night. He wasn’t. I ate alone. I longed for my girlfriends now. I headed back to change. It was now past six so I took a leisurely walk, flitting in and out of stores, bought a chocolate milkshake, then headed to the hotel. When I entered our room, Keith was there.
“Where the hell have you been?” He demanded. “You were supposed to be at the club at half four. You’re meandering in at seven.”
It took all my strength not to lose my temper. “I came on time but that slimy guard said you’d left so I came back here, but you weren’t around. By then I was starving and went to eat. Ryan never got me a pass. And I’m sick of that mangy guard asking for sexual favors.”
“I’m sorry. I thought you had a pass.”
“Well I don’t. Since you were nowhere and left no note, I went out, then came back here hoping I’d be able to get in tonight.”
“I’m here, but I have to be at the club in half an hour. Can you get ready that fast? I need time to focus my mind on the performance or the show won’t go well.”
“Well too bad. I wasted an hour waiting for you, so you can wait for me.”
“I figured when you didn’t show, you were still exploring galleries so I went to a pub with my mates.”
“That was your plan all along, wasn’t it? It’s all well and good while your mates slept, but the minute they’re up, you drop me. You were the one crying all summer we weren’t getting enough time together and I should quit my job. Then I agree to come and we’re barely together. The only fun thing we did was the Beatles tour and your mates came.”
“We had all morning together and will tomorrow too.” He tried to embrace me but I pulled away.
“I thought you wanted to spend time with me, not your mates.”
“I want to spend time with them too.”
I pulled my clothes from my bag. “I thought this trip would be more fun.”
“I can’t just abandon my mates. We like to go to pubs and have a pint or two.”
“You had two pints. How many more did you need?”
“So now you’re telling me how much I can drink?”
I shook my head. “It would have been better if I came with my girlfriends. They wouldn’t abandon me.”
“I didn’t abandon you, luv. I thought you were still visiting galleries.”
“Why didn’t you come looking for me? Or tell Mr. Sleazeball who I was? Do you know how it makes me feel to contend with his propositions?”
“I’ll ask Ryan to talk to him. “
“It won’t make any difference. I’m sure plenty of girls do as he requests or he wouldn’t keep asking. Still, he makes my skin crawl and I so much as told him that.” I wiggled out of my sun frock.
Keith snickered. “I’ll bet you did. But I do know how you feel. Girls proposition me all the time –- they aren’t at all subtle. Get changed. I’ll wait.” He sat back and lit a cigarette.
I pulled on my favorite pink mini skirt, the one I wore the first night I saw The Piss Ants. With it I wore a tight-fitting black t-shirt with a Union Jack on front. Next, the black and white striped leggings and black boots. Another 15 minutes doing my makeup and hair in the bathroom before I emerged.
We rushed to the lobby where Ryan waited. “Finally,” Ryan said. “Billy and Jimmy went to the club while I waited for you two.”
“Don’t you start,” I nearly shouted. “If you remembered to give me a pass I could have gone on my own.”
Ryan threw up his hands. “I forgot, sorry. You could have reminded me.”
“I did what was asked of me. I don’t need to take over parts of your job.”
Ryan didn’t answer as we headed outside. I wouldn’t reveal I’d drawn postcards to sell with the tapes. If I’d been treated nicer I might have put half the proceeds into the band fund.
We walked to the club not saying much. Mr. Makes Me Vomit was in the same spot, arms crossed, wearing the same muscle shirt showing off his vulgar tattooed biceps. I despised tattoos. Keith wrapped his free arm around me so Mr. Vomit saw I was his girlfriend. I eyed him to see if he looked embarrassed. He didn’t. What a sleaze.
“Here you go.” Ryan pulled a pass from his bag when we got back stage. “Wear it where it’s easily seen.”
I stuck it just below the hem of my skirt.
Ryan picked up the boxes of tapes and I followed him out. Keith got busy tuning his guitar and forgot I existed. This time I had a comfortable chair and bottles of Perrier. “I’ll come five minutes before show time,” Ryan said.
I set up, grabbed a Perrier and waited. The break tape blasted and I hummed along to The Buzzcocks’ Orgasm Addict. At last, the throngs streamed in, heading for the stage. Several, however, congregated at my table. Everyone loved my postcards. Within half an hour I sold five plus fifteen tapes. The house lights dimmed and everyone rushed the stage.
Ryan returned and took me to the stage. Keith grabbed me for an impromptu kiss. Yes, things were going much better tonight. The houselights dimmed, the band was introduced, and they hit the stage opening with No Connection, followed with Down At the Pub and All You Punk Rockers before pausing briefly.
“Hello again, Liverpool!” Keith bellowed. “We sold out both shows. Punk is alive and well in Liverpool! Next is a new song you lot are the first to hear. It’s called Punk Rock Girlfriend. It’s for Brigitte. I was unaware he’d written me a song. Quel honneur!
Keith bounced around like a rubber ball, singing the chorus of this bouncy but very punk rock tune.
I can’t believe that I’m the one you chose
Oui, c’est la vie, that’s the way it goes
As days turn into night our love just grows
I can’t believe that you’re my punk rock girlfriend!
Punk rock girlfriend, all through time
You’re my song: music and rhyme
You’re my fa-vo-rite pastime
Punk rock girlfriend!
Jimmy recently perfected spinning one drumstick between beats. Billy mastered standing on his stand-up for short periods before leaping off. The dance floor was a steaming, writhing pit of sweaty bodies slamming off each other. I had so much fun, the heartache of the last twenty-four hours melted away.
After the hour plus set, they left the stage with more chants of, “Piss Ants! Piss Ants!” The screams reached an ear-piercing crescendo, before the band returned. They performed Clash City Rockers followed by London’s Burning, but Keith changed the words to Liverpool’s Burning.
After the last concertgoer straggled out, I boxed the remaining tapes. This time I didn’t mind carrying them. Two hundred tapes were much lighter than what I was so unmercifully forced to tote the night before.
It was when I returned backstage, I learned there was some sort of riot outside. Apparently they’d oversold the house and many who bought tickets were left standing outside. The promoter was pleading with the band to perform one more night to appease those ticket holders. They could open for the band that was headlining.
“What d’ya say, mates,” Ryan asked. “We don’t have any gigs for two days.”
“I can’t stay,” I piped up. “I need to get back to London tomorrow.”
I heard screaming from outside and also heard glass breaking.
“I need an answer quick, lads,” the promoter continued.
“You must stay,” Keith said to me. “I need you here.”
“I can’t,” I argued. “I’m taking a huge risk.”
“Listen to that. We can’t buy this publicity,” Ryan said.
The sound of sirens emanated from outside.
“Bloody hell! Now the coppers are involved,” some club employee announced.
“You’re right, mate,” Keith said to Ryan. “This is great publicity.”
How could he say that? People were destroying property and possibly causing harm to others, and all the band could do was boast about publicity.
Well, sort it out amongst yourselves,” I said. “I’m going back to the hotel.”
“I wouldn’t advise that, miss,” the promoter said. “It isn’t safe.”
“Bugger! You mean I’m trapped here for who knows how long?”
The promoter left and returned with a contract and the band was engrossed in the details. There was nothing to do but wait. I wandered the club and onto the stage before coming upon a string from Keith’s guitar .I wound it into a bracelet and wrapped it around my wrist, imagining it was Paul McCartney’s. He was my favorite Beatle.
I wandered some more, gazing again at all the memorabilia adorning the walls. In one corner there was a bass signed by Bruce Foxton of The Jam and a poster of The Jam next to it.
“There you fucking are.” Ryan broke my thoughts. “We’re going.”
I didn’t give him the satisfaction of a reply.
Outside the street was deserted. The damage didn’t look that bad. The broken glass appeared to be from bottles, not windows.
It was four a.m. when we finally got to our room.
“Say you’ll stay,” Keith begged.
“I can’t. If my mother discovers I was with you instead of friends she’ll have me home in a heartbeat.”
“So say you missed the train. Don’t abandon me.”
“I took a big risk coming here, but I really wanted to see Liverpool.”
“I am so fucking tired of your parents interfering with us.”
“I am too, but until I’m eighteen there’s no other way.”
“So that’s it, then? You’re just going back to London?”
“Tomorrow.” I shed my clothes and climbed into bed.
Keith threw up his hands. “Fuck!! I’m going back out.”
“Suit yourself!” I yelled.
It was half past eight when I woke and there was no sign Keith had returned. Why is he being such a baby? Surely if something bad happened I’d have heard. I showered, dressed and packed my things. I was doing my hair and makeup when Keith staggered in. He reeked of beer and looked a right mess.
“Where were you? I was scared something terrible happened.” I dropped my makeup into my bag.
“I was counting on you being at my shows all summer.”
I sighed. “This trip has been a big disappointment. I’ll grab something to eat on my way to the train. When you’re ready to grow up, you know where to find me.” I took my bag and left the room, slamming the door.
I looked back, but Keith didn’t follow. I ran downstairs, turned in my key and got a train schedule. Keith didn’t appear in the lobby either. I headed out, grabbed a yogurt and walked to the station. I wanted to burst into tears as I boarded the train. Was this the end? I thought of the fun we had together. The times he made me laugh, the song he wrote for me, the time he posed nude. Why can’t he understand I have a life too?
he understand I have a life too? The train rolled into London and I wiped tears from my eyes. I had only eaten a yogurt, yet my stomach felt like I’d swallowed lumps of clay. I arrived home to an empty room so obviously Aimee wasn’t back. I didn’t feel like company anyway. I began putting my things away and at the bottom of my bag, stumbled upon a single postcard I’d drawn of Keith playing his guitar. I must have missed it. I burst into tears. Was it over between us? I flopped onto my bed and cried my eyes out. I fell asleep because I was awakened by the ringing phone. It was my mother.
Before I could finish saying hello she lit in on me. “You know we subscribe to the London Times now and I found an article about some riot in Liverpool caused by a band called the Piss Ants. Isn’t that Keith’s band? You went with him, didn’t you? You deceived me!” She screamed so loud I had to hold the phone two inches from my ear.
“Well don’t worry. We broke up.” I burst into tears again.
Her voice calmed. “Oh, I am sorry, ma cherie.”
“You’re not. This is what you and Papa wanted. I hope you’re happy now!”
“I am not happy you are so upset. He was your first love and it will take time to get over him, but you will, trust me.”
“I’ll never get over him and I’ll never fall in love again.”
“I know you feel that way now. I am still devastated you deceived me. You never did this before, which proves this lad was no good. You should come home for a few days. You have two weeks before school starts. We could spend a day in Paris.”
“I don’t feel like doing anything or going anywhere.”
“Very well, I will still check on you every day. Aimee is on her way.”
I hung up and wondered if Keith called while I talked with my mother. I sat and stared at the wall and again remembered all the fun we had.
I heard Aimee’s key in the door. “Oh, you’re home,” she said. “How was Liverpool?”
“It was horrible, just horrible.” I began crying again.
Aimee rushed to me. “Heavens, what happened?”
I sobbed on her shoulder. “I think Keith and me split up.”
“No! How? You were so in love.”
I told her the whole story.
“You’re right. He is being a big baby.”
“He hasn’t even called,” I sobbed.
“Well don’t wait around and brood. Let’s go out so if he calls and you aren’t here, it’ll serve him right.”
“You’re right,” I agreed, drying my tears.
We took our time eating, went to the cinema, then took a leisurely stroll around London and didn’t return until after eleven. I was crushed. There were no messages. I went to sleep with Keith on my mind. I so wanted things back the way they were.
When I awoke after another fitful night’s sleep, it was already nine. Aimee just returned from the bathroom. “Oh, you’re up. Are you feeling better?”
“No.” I stared at the ceiling, not wanting to face the day.
“Have a shower. Then we’ll go to the kitchen and fix breakfast.
“I’ll shower but nothing will help me feel better.” I dragged myself from bed and threw on my dressing gown. After showering and getting dressed, I opened the door and saw Keith. He hadn’t shaved, his hair
shaved, his hair was more tousled than usual and he looked like he hadn’t slept.
“Can I talk to you?” he asked.
“It’s your decision,” Aimee said. “I’ll wait in the kitchen if you need me.”
“I’ll buy breakfast,” Keith said. “But I need to talk to you.”
Reluctantly, I followed him, but let him do all the talking as we walked. “We drove all the way back after the show. I haven’t slept for two days,” he explained
“You’re lucky to be alive then if you’re driving in that state.”
He shrugged. “Ryan drove. He said the same thing.
“You know, you have to stop depending on others to look after you.”
He shrugged again.
“I mean it! You expect me to take care of you. I can barely care for myself.”
“I don’t want to lose you,” Keith said as we reached the restaurant and settled at a table. “You mean everything to me.”
“You have your band. That means a lot.”
He grabbed a cigarette and lit up. “Not as much as you. I actually wrote Punk Rock Girlfriend back when we first went out, but I thought it was daft and didn’t do anything more with it until last night. I played it to show you how much you mean to me.
“I took a big risk coming to Liverpool and my mother found out I was with you and not friends. They read about the riot in the London Times.”
His face brightened. “We made the London Times? Wicked!”
I glared at him. “You’re proud your band caused a riot?”
“We didn’t. The fuckin’ promoters over sold the place. We bailed their arses out. But it gives us a certain status.
“The fact some were arrested and property was damaged doesn’t bother you?”
“No property was damaged and no one got arrested. When coppers came they all dispersed. I’ll have to grab the London Times. For the first time ever I’ll read our press.”
I sighed. “You just don’t understand.”
“Come on, luv. As riots go, it was tame. Say we aren’t finished. I couldn’t bear that.”
“I spent all afternoon crying my eyes out.”
Finally he looked contrite. “All right, I’m sorry. Just please don’t break up with me.”
“I don’t want to. In spite of everything I’m madly in love with you, but maybe we shouldn’t see as much of each other. My second year of school will be more demanding.”
“I won’t interfere. I’ll do more nude poses if you want.” He shot me a naughty grin and took drag from his cigarette. “Let’s go to my place and discuss it further.” He shot me another naughty grin.
“No way. I know what’ll happen if we do. I never want to go through this again. Besides, you look like you need some sleep.”
“I’ll sleep a lot better if you’re with me.”
“Not until you stop taking me for granted. I’ll come to your shows before school starts and sell tapes, but I’m going home after.”
As much as he tried talking me into going home with him, I held my ground. I attended his shows and sold more postcards, but went home every time. I was proud for resisting him and as far as my parents knew, we broke up.
[To be continued… Click here to view all chapters.]
