Playing Along (13 page)

“Why?” asks Mark.

“Yeah, why?” adds Duncan. “What’s up with that? I thought we’d talked about bringing us in on the process sooner?” There had been some conversation about this after
Sounds As if
was released, but nothing had really come of it. George and Simon had always drawn the outline and then Mark and Duncan helped colour it in. The terms of their union were entirely equitable, all song royalties split four ways. If it wasn’t broken—why fix it?

“I don’t know why—it’s just what’s worked in the past. Hasn’t it, Sim?” George looks to Simon to back him up. Gabe is staying conspicuously quiet.

“Yeah mate, but it’s like it all rests upon you,” says Simon, finding it difficult to look George in the eye. “Maybe Mark and Dunc need to get more of a look in. You know, show up from the start instead of being brought in somewhere in the middle.”

“I’ve got some lyrics, George,” says Mark, quietly. “I mean, not up to your standard, but Simon’s seen them and he thinks they’re pretty good. I was going to wait to mention it, but now that it’s come up, I was thinking I could contribute to a song on this next album.” George slowly closes the lid of the laptop and stands up. He feels shaky. Not only because of the stolen lyrics but this completely unexpected mutiny on top of it. Was this the beginning of the chasm he had always dreaded?

“You should have said something,” says George to Mark, unsure of what else to say. He doesn’t have a history of knowing how to repair ruptures in relationships. He would never have guessed that the rest of them felt so undermined or considered him to be so domineering.

“I just did,” says Mark.

“Come on, boys,” says Gabe, the absent anchor, suddenly speaking up. “It’s the big night tomorrow. We’ve all been looking forward to this and you’ve worked bloody hard. It’s crap timing that the lyrics were let loose today, but the show must go on, right? I’m sure you all just need a bit of space to think about what’s been said. We can pick the conversation back up in London.”

“Gabe’s right,” says Duncan, “I vote we all go grab a brew and get pissed.”

“Sorry, lads. Stacey’s waiting for me,” says Simon, looking eager to leave. George can sense him pulling away and the sensation is visceral, like a muscle weakening, withering from lack of use. How long have they all felt like this and why is he the last to hear about it?

“I’ll come,” says Mark, “Anna’s shopping anyway.” He turns to George. “You joining?”

George wants to try to sound normal. Wants to act as if nothing has changed, but his fear is that everything has. “Not right now,” he says, hoping that he’s the only one who can hear the tremor in his voice.

LEXI
November 20
^th
, 2009
West Hollywood, Los Angeles

Lexi had attempted to answer Meg’s call, but just as she was reaching for her phone she had noticed a police car a few lanes to the left. Using a hand-held in the car incurred a hefty fine and she wasn’t going to risk it. She’d switched her phone off and turned up the stereo, reassuring herself that there was probably nothing wrong and she’d check her messages later.

She’s barely walked through the front door when her home phone rings. Andrew is with Carl, the apartment is peaceful, and Lexi is preparing to go to bed for the entire weekend with 1000 mgs of vitamin C, a stack of trashy magazines and a packet of Red Vines.

“Hi there,” says Lexi, hoping to sound as normal as possible. “Everything okay?”

“OH MY GOD!” says Meg in her most dramatic voice, “More than okay. I’ve been trying to reach you for an hour—can you talk?”

“I’m not feeling a hundred percent,” says Lexi, “but I guess I can, for a minute or two.”

“Okay, okay. Soooo—remember when I entered that lottery to win the Thesis tickets for Tim’s birthday?”

“I remember,” says Lexi.

“Well, they’ve sent me an e-mail and I won! These tickets are like gold dust, I mean all the Facebook fans were desperate to get their hands on them and I can’t even believe it, but I actually got them!” Her voice is getting higher by the second.

Lexi wishes she’d never answered the phone. The last things she needs to hear right now is Meg gushing about Thesis. Lexi’s finally working on being a grown-up—following her eco learnings—finding her own passions. She doesn’t need to get sucked into Meg’s delirium. Although… she must admit that she has felt an uncanny connection between herself and George Bryce since seeing the video and listening continually to his music. She knows it’s so silly, but it’s as if the lyrics are speaking to her—guiding her in her new direction. Anyway. Whatever. Let Meg have the girlish crush on the twenty-something Brit boy. Lexi has more important things to concentrate on.

“Hello?!! Are you there?” says Meg.

“Yes, yes, I’m here,” says Lexi, “I’m just feeling shitty today. That’s awesome about the tickets though. I’m sure you and Tim will love it.”

“Are you losing brain cells, Lex? I’m not taking Tim! After that fiasco on Tuesday—he’s in the dog house—no booty for two weeks and no concert. Girl’s night out. Tomorrow night—Sexy Lexi and Meg the legs!”

Sexy Lexi—she hasn’t heard that one in a while—her nickname in the eighth grade when she had been the first of the two best friends to kiss a boy. His name was Lucas. His lips had tasted of chalk.

“Tomorrow?” repeats Lexi, feeling a swell of delight, “I’m not sure, Meg—I
do
have a sore throat.” She has this odd sensation that she needs to protect her excitement and not let on how much she would really love to go. Meg is already infatuated with George. In high school, they had always lusted after the same boy.

“Forget your sore throat. I told you I’d make it up to you. You have to come. I’m not giving you a choice. Do you still have your white mini dress—the one you wore to The Spin Doctors at The Greek?”

It’s just a concert, right? She’s permitted to have some fun. She can’t hold a grudge with Meg forever.

“I’m not so sure, but sounds like I better go look for it now.”

“Yay!” says Meg squealing loudly, “it’s going to be just like old times.” And that’s the part that worries Lexi the most.

GEORGE
21
^st
November, 2009
The Avid Theatre, Hollywood

Customarily, an hour before performing, George and the boys shrink their world, close the door of their dressing room and won’t permit anyone in—even Gabe. This hour is sacrosanct. They don’t request gallons of Smirnoff, vats of caviar and cocaine, or pink toilet seats. They normally ask for a small table, three packs of cards, twelve bags of Walkers salt and vinegar crisps, a case of Orangina and two sixpacks of Corona beer. The band then embarks on rounds of Switch, a card game taught to Simon and Mark by their grandfather when they were eight. It’s a ritual that George can’t do without. They think Simon is reigning champion, but they have lost count along the way, relying on the hour instead to shut out nerves and bind them together. By the time they get on stage, they are like four teenage boys who have been shut in their parents’ basement all afternoon, full of mischief and spark, prepared to make an impact.

Tonight should be no different, even though they will be playing to an audience of two hundred and fifty instead of twenty thousand. But after yesterday’s revelations, George knows that something has been lost. Maybe even irretrievably. Earlier that day, George had asked one of the band’s PAs to run to the English Shop in Santa Monica to buy a large party sized tin of Quality Street—top chocolates. He’d shared them generously as a feeble peace offering. The boys had all laughed and helped themselves, but still, George can’t seem to shake yesterday’s criticisms, roughly unpicking the stitches from an old, neglected wound.

LEXI
November 21
^st
, 2009
The Avid Theatre, Hollywood

Lexi and Meg have third row seats. Center. When they arrived at The Avid theatre and were directed to the front, Lexi thought Meg was going to have a coronary right there and then.

“This is beyond! Just beyond, Lex. Do you realize we’ll be able to smell him from here!”

“Lucky us,” said Lexi sarcastically, but inside she was secretly thrilled. The last concert she went to see was Michael Bolton with her parents. She had sat between them and when he sang “How Am I Supposed to Live Without You?” her mother had squeezed her knee.

GEORGE
21
^st
November, 2009
The Avid Theatre, Hollywood

There isn’t a support act tonight. The doors open at 7:00 p.m. and the boys will come on at 8:00. There’s a baby grand piano on stage, and a variety of unusual instruments will make appearances infusing the sound with something special. Andrea Evans, a harpist for the Los Angeles Philharmonic, will join them for “A Suitable Dawn.” In rehearsals she’d sounded hypnotic.

At 7:45 Gabe knocks three times on the door, his signature warning. Mark has just won the final game with an eight of diamonds and Duncan is cursing him.

“Fucker—that was my victory!”

George stands up and stretches as Gabe opens the door, holding a mug of hot water with honey and lemon. He hands it to George. Voice maintenance. George savours the hot, sweet liquid as it runs down the back of his throat. He catches sight of his reflection in the mirror and turns away. He doesn’t like to look too much. He thinks maybe he needs a haircut. Or perhaps he should grow a beard? George is wearing black jeans and a checked shirt with a white t-shirt underneath. He’s got his Tiger trainers on with the red laces—the ones he bought on Melrose Avenue last time they were in town.

He isn’t vain about what he wears on stage and refuses to accept a stylist, wary of the four of them looking like a bunch of wankers trying to emulate another band. Come to think of it, this hasn’t been discussed in a while. Maybe the rest of them have long hankered after themed outfits, but just can’t bring themselves to tell him.

“Okay, lads—ready?” asks Gabe.

“Steady, go!” says Duncan.

“Yes, sir,” says Mark.

“Couldn’t be readier,” adds Simon, licking the salt from his fingers and popping the final crisp into his mouth.

“Definitely maybe,” says George (classic Oasis) as the four of them follow Gabe out of the room.

Tonight the show will open with George and his guitar entering from the back of the theatre, a spotlight tracking him down the centre aisle. He’ll sing an acoustic version of “Grapefruit Girls”—an entirely fresh take on their biggest hit. The rest of the band will be waiting on stage.

The boys momentarily huddle, heads bent forward, arms resting on each other’s backs.

“May the force be with you,” says Simon.

“And also with you,” say George, Duncan and Mark in unison. Another ritual.

As they part ways, George’s guitar tech, Freddie, hands him his Martin and he’s ushered away by Gabe and a bouncer down a dim narrow hallway towards the front of the building. He predicted earlier that his nerves might spike before this show but now the hour has arrived, he feels weirdly calm, like he’s about to be tossed into the surf, but doesn’t yet realize the power of the current.

LEXI
November 21
^st
, 2009
The Avid Theatre, Hollywood

Lexi scans the room attempting to get a profile of your average Thesis fan. It’s impossible. They seem to range from young guys in their twenties with low slung jeans and messy hair to fifty-year-old women accompanying their teenage daughters. Everyone is typing away madly on Blackberrys or iPhones—including Meg.

“What are you doing?” asks Lexi, tapping her shoulder.

“Updating my status on Facebook. I mean this is too good to pass up. Will you take a picture of me during the concert so I can post it?”

That afternoon Lexi had been enjoying feeling like a teenager again. Meg had called her a thousand times to consult on the appropriate outfit. Meg had finally decided to wear her new purple leather jacket bought on sale at Bloomingdales.

“You’ll have to get tickets to see Prince next,” teased Lexi.

Lexi had chosen her favorite night-time jeans, gladiator sandals and a loose orange shirt with three long, gold beaded necklaces. When she was putting on her lip gloss, she stepped back for a final appraisal, tilting her head to the left and smiling at her reflection, as if greeting an unexpected friend. When she was thirteen she would spend ages talking to imaginary boyfriends in her bathroom mirror, trying on outfits for varying events. Baseball games were popular. White shorts, colored tank top and her thick brown hair tied back in a bouncy high ponytail. Her imaginary boyfriend was always the star pitcher and winked at her when he arrived on the mound.

Tonight she feels pretty, but attempts to remind herself that it really doesn’t matter how lovely she looks. Even if the hottest guy sat down next to her, right now, she’s resolved to not give into temptation and allow herself to be swept away by him. Even if he tells her he used to play baseball. It’s bound to end in tears, with her becoming so wrapped up in him that she loses her mind, or her job, or both. He’s surely got a string of ex-girlfriends in his past who have fallen in the wake of his charms and never recovered. In fact, she’s starting to really dislike this potential hot guy who is nowhere to be seen and is certainly not sitting next to her. And she’s even considering swapping seats with Meg if he shows up now.

Lexi’s internal diatribe against the nonexistent stranger is rudely interrupted by a young grungy-looking girl who has miraculously appeared in the neighboring seat. “Are these not like OMG tickets?” she says to both Lexi and Meg, who has finished with Facebook and is reapplying her lipstick.

“I know!” says Meg. “I love Thesis! They’re the best ever and George is going to be—”

“Spitting distance,” says the girl, completing Meg’s sentence for her. “Sp—itt—ing distance,” she drags out the word for emphasis. Lexi reckons she’s about twenty-two. Pierced nose and bed hair. No make-up except for thick black eyeliner.

“You think?” says Meg excitedly. “Do you think we’ll feel the saliva?”

“I hope so,” says the girl, turning to the guy she’s with and kissing him voraciously on the lips.

“Well,
he’s
surely feeling the saliva,” Lexi whispers to Meg, glancing around and noticing the theatre is now full to capacity.