“This band from Liverpool saw us play there last year and caught our show last night. They asked us to jam at some club across town. Jimmy and Billy are keen and so am I. Apparently they’re as big in Liverpool as we are in London, so this is a fuckin’ honor.”
“But this evening was to be our time. You can’t just go gallivanting off.”
“You’re welcome to come.” He got out of bed, gathering his clothes from the floor.
“Like that would be loads of fun for me. Am I just on tour so you can get your rocks off without using some groupie and the rest of the time you’re with your mates?”
“Come on, luv, be fair. These blokes asked us. It would look bad if we refused.”
“Tell them you’re a newlywed and you’d rather spend time with your new bride.”
“I can’t do that.”
“You know sometimes you treat me like a toy. You play with me awhile, then something better comes and you dump me.”
“That’s not true. I’m working. Another band asking us to jam with them means we’re getting recognition.”
“It’s not like Joe Strummer or Mick Jones or even Steve Jones asked you. It’s just some band from Liverpool.”
“Not just some band — a punk band called Dysfunction and they’re the hottest band in Liverpool. I wish you’d come. You’re my good luck charm.”
“Go on. Go be with your mates and you’ll probably come back and pass out drunk like last night.”
Keith didn’t respond. He gathered the rest of his clothes and went to the bathroom.
Five minutes later he emerged, wiggling into his Clash t-shirt. “I wish you’d reconsider, luv. Or at least try and understand why this is important.”
“Well, not all wishes come true,” was all I said before going to the bathroom. I slammed the door hard.
I showered and slipped into my negligee. Keith was gone when I came out. I had so looked forward to an evening to ourselves. Now I was left with disappointment. I crawled under the blankets and wondered if I’d wake up with him passed out again.
I was beyond relived when Keith woke me the next morning by wrapping me in his arms. “We need to get moving, luv.”
He wasn’t passed out, but I still felt the sting of being abandoned. My head also felt like it would explode. “Give me another hour,” I begged. “Je me sens terrible.”
“What do you mean you feel terrible? I thought your cold was better.”
“So did I, but I ache everywhere — probably from getting drenched yesterday.”
“Wait here, then. I’ll bring you back something to eat.”
“That sounds perfect,” I replied. “I should finish more postcards anyway.”
He was quickly worming his way back into my good graces.
I didn’t get far with the postcards. The next thing I knew was Keith kissing me. I’d fallen back to sleep. “I brought you a spinach and feta croissant and a big cup of tea.”
I took the bounty gratefully. “If I could only stop my head from throbbing.” I sipped tea and wondered how Keith could be so caring and yet abandon me in a heartbeat when his mates beckoned.
We got to Grimsby and checked into our hotel.
There was no lift so I had to drag my bags up two flights and drag them down a long hall before finding our room. I flopped onto the bed and closed my eyes.
Keith sat next to me. “I’m going to sound check. Can I bring you something to eat?” “That sounds lovely,” I said. “You’re being so nice to me.”
“I’m always nice to you.”
“Sometimes it seems you like being with your mates more than me.”
“I’m on tour. If I stop for even a moment we could lose everything.”
“I just want some time for us.”
“I’m not a sodding pen pusher, luv. I can’t be home at five every night.”
“But we had a day off yesterday and barely saw each other.”
There was a banging on the door. “Keith, get out here. You’re making us late!”
With Keith gone, I drew postcards and got more curious about his parents. Where did they live? Could I walk there –- maybe spy on them?
Keith returned with a huge order of fish and chips plus a chocolate milkshake. “My advice is stay in the room until tonight. You need to get rid of that cold.”
“Are you hanging about with me, then?”
“I have no other plans.” He picked up his acoustic and began strumming. “I’ve had this idea for a song anyway.”
“I hope I sell more postcards tonight than last.”
“I don’t know how much will sell. The club is bloody puny and three fucking floors up. Hopefully it’ll be enough of a deterrent if my dad tries to come.”
“I’m glad I had loving parents. Ils me rendent fous quelquefois, but I can’t imagine going through what you did.”
“Well my parents do more than drive me bonkers.”
When it was time to leave, I changed into my pink frilly mini skirt and added a wide black belt, then wiggled into my tight black shirt with the Union Jack heart and black and pink striped leggings with black ankle boots. I pulled my hair back and clipped it with a large black bow with pink circles. Again I went heavy on the black mascara to hide the red in my lashes and added dark red lipstick. I was ready to rock.
“You know, I could write a rock opera in the time it takes you to get ready,” Keith commented when I finally emerged.
“So be honored I take the time to look good for your shows.”
Upon our arrival, I helped lug boxes up two flights of winding steep stairs. Since the band needed to warm up, it was up to Ryan and me with help from one club employee to return to the van for the rest. There was no way we’d sell everything, but Ryan insisted we be prepared, so I followed him back to the van. He unlocked the back doors and pulled them open. “Wait here and guard the van,” he told me. “We have one more trip and it’ll be easier not to unlock every time.”
That was better than climbing those stairs. I sat on the edge of the van and pulled out some blank postcards. The van’s dome light and the street lamps provided just enough light. I drew a picture of Keith with his guitar when I heard Ryan’s raised voice. “He doesn’t want to see you!”
I peeked around and saw Ryan at the backstage door arguing with some man who looked a bit old to be a fan. It must be a reporter. I returned to my postcards.
The arguing became louder but I couldn’t hear what was said until I heard Ryan clearly say, “I’m sorry it has to be this way, but if Keith suspects you’re here, he’ll be too upset to perform. You must leave or I’ll tell security.”
Then I realized that was Keith’s father. I peeked again, curious to see what he looked like but it was too dark. I stayed put, preferring to remain inconspicuous.
“I just want to see my son. Is that too much to ask?”
“Right now it is. I need to respect Keith’s wishes and he’s made his wishes very clear. If he sees you, it will ruin his performance and I can’t risk that. I have to get this stuff upstairs so we don’t lose any sales. I’m sorry Keith wants nothing to do with you, but I can’t control that.”
Ryan disappeared. Peeking around for a better look, I saw Keith’s father stand in place a moment, then walk away. Suddenly he switched directions and headed towards the van. I quickly ducked in, shut and locked the doors. Holding my breath, I was glad the windows were now covered with black paper to conceal the cargo. I heard his footsteps walk past, but he didn’t try the doors or peek in the other windows. With the dome light off, I couldn’t finish my postcards. I stayed for about five minutes until Ryan banged on the van. “Are you in there?”
I unlocked and opened the doors. “I figured out who you were talking to,” I explained. “He headed this way, so I locked myself in.”
“Well done. I’ve alerted security, but they said if he has a ticket there’s nothing they can do, though they said they’d let me know if he shows. Let’s hope he doesn’t have a ticket. Don’t tell Keith. At least not before the show.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve seen how he reacts when I raise the subject of his parents.”
“Yeah, my dad says it’s some sort of post traumatic something. I guess there’s a psychological term for it. As long as nothing happens before or during the show.” Ryan grabbed the final box of shirts and left me to lock the van. I did and headed to the club’s entrance. Suddenly Keith’s father approached the doorway. He nodded at me and said ‘hello.’ I got the feeling he suspected who I was. I said ‘hello’ and rushed inside.
The doors were opening in fifteen minutes and I still had to set up. Grabbing a near-by chair, I hung t-shirts, then set up everything else. I sat down to draw more postcards
Ryan came by. “So far so good. I haven’t seen Keith’s dad. Since you saw what he looks like, you can keep your eyes open and let someone know.”
“I’ll try, but I’ll be busy selling and drawing postcards.” I no sooner finished speaking when a couple customers approached the table. Ryan left. A lull in customers allowed me to return to my postcards. I finished one of Keith, and began another. I was absorbed in my drawing when a man’s voice broke my concentration.
“Good evening,” he said.
[To be continued… Click here to view all chapters.]
