Playing Along (4 page)

The agony paid off:
NME
, May 2007 -
Sounds As If
Thesis have avoided the sophomore slump. The follow-up to
Twelve Thousand Words
raises the listener high in all the right places.

Simon knew how to resuscitate George, something George had never experienced before. When he was a child, it was always Polly who had some intense drama going on. It was Polly who garnered all of his parents’ attention because she had grazed her knee, or lost her precious bookmark, or found a spider, or didn’t like her haircut, or had argued with a friend. George had learned early on how not to ask for help, mostly because it never seemed to be available.

He gives his stress ball another tight squeeze and frowns back at the misshapen mouth, silently defying the creative concrete to build another wall.

LEXI
November 4
^th
, 2009
Venice, Los Angeles

Number fifty-five is a ramshackle bungalow with a rickety front gate. A dilapidated lime-green Mini parked in the front yard has been converted into a makeshift garden, an explosion of vibrant wildflowers blossoming where the hood once was. A massive black and white cat is fast asleep on the warm roof. It’s unexpected and Lexi is momentarily charmed, remembering the phrase
Creative space
from the ad. She takes a deep breath and knocks boldly on the front door.

Russell Hazleton opens the door with what can only be described as a flourish. He is a short man, probably somewhere in his late forties, with a long white blond ponytail hanging over his shoulder and a black fluffy goatee—a disarming combination.

“You’ve met Boris, I see…” he says, gesturing to the sleeping cat. “When he’s not running the show around here you’ll be dealing with me, second in command, Russell Hazleton, pleasure to meet you. You must be Lexi, because you don’t look like the UPS driver.” He greets her with a very weak handshake that slowly builds into a firm pumping action. She isn’t certain if he has any plans to let go.

“That’s right, Lexi Jacobs. It’s very nice to meet you too, Russell,” she says nervously, as he keeps a tight grip on her hand and continues to shake it vigorously.

“I can see you’re wondering right about now, Lexi, what might be going on here. Well, I’ll fill you in on my little secret and let you know that you’ve passed the first test.”

“Test?” asks Lexi, confused, and suddenly feeling overdressed in her grey Theory suit and leather ballet pumps. Russell is wearing denim shorts and a Barack Obama tank top. He finally lets go of her hand.

“Yes, test. It’s this nifty character study I’ve invented to assess suitable job candidates. I call it the shake and fake. You can tell a whole lot about somebody from how they shake your hand, you know. I operate on a spectrum from limp to powerful, all the while noting your response. You hung on in there. You didn’t recoil. I felt you were willing to meet me in my energetic vibrations. You’ve got the job!”

Lexi is tempted to turn and run. She is, after all, still only at the front door.

“You look surprised,” he adds.

“Well, um, yeah, you could say, surprised. That would be a good word. It’s just I was expecting more of an interview and, maybe, you know, a chance for me to ask a few questions, so that I can decide if I actually
want
the job.”

“Very sensible,” he says, moving aside and allowing room for her to enter. “We can make that work. Come on in…”

Lexi steps tentatively over the threshold, trying not to hear her mother’s voice warning ominously, “Stranger danger!” But once inside, it’s impossible not to be overwhelmed by curiosity. Russell’s house is an eccentric emporium of recycling. Every object imaginable appears to have been reincarnated and given a second chance in life. Toasters hold CDs. CDs are lampshades. Lampshades are fruit baskets. An upside-down oven is acting as a wine rack. Old t-shirts have been patchworked together and transformed into tablecloths and cushion covers. Bicycle wheels with painted tires hang on the walls like modern works of art. It really is quite captivating.

“This is extraordinary,” she says.

“Perhaps,” Russell replies modestly. “But my true aim is to take the ordinary items in life and save them from the well-worn fate of trash.”

“Well, you’ve certainly achieved that,” says Lexi.

“I love myself, Lexi, but I love the greatest mother of all above and beyond that. We are all children of the earth and we owe it to her to behave with respect and integrity. I don’t know about you, but I for one have had it up to here with humans flipping the bird at our ailing matriarch. It
is
in our power to save her…”

His fervor is certainly compelling.

“Looking around here,” says Lexi, “I can see you clearly intend to make a difference.”

“I really do,” says Russell.

“But, if you don’t mind my asking,” says Lexi cautiously, not wanting to offend him, “What
is
the business exactly? What do you do?”

Russell sucks in his breath, as if preparing to duck under water.

“Anything. Everything. I have a lot of excellent ideas on how to improve our commitment to the earth. I have volumes of valuable information stored in a paperless vault,” he taps the side of his head pointedly. “I’ve already transformed a local retail outlet. They now run all their delivery vehicles on vegetable oil and they’ve cut down on trash output by eighty percent.”

“That’s very impressive,” says Lexi.

“I just need a bit of assistance getting focused and getting out there. I find myself in somewhat of a jumble,” Russell admits, glancing around his jam-packed living room. “I sure don’t have a lot of money, Lexi, but I could pay you a small salary to begin with, and my bet is that Let The Green Times Roll will soon rocket. If things work out with you and me, I would gladly cut you in on a percentage.”

Lexi is hesitant. She knows she really isn’t in a position to be picky, and while Russell seems harmless, she is skeptical as to what kind of business could be fashioned from this museum of oddities.

“I think what you’re doing here is admirable, Russell, and your passion is evident, but I’m just not certain what the future of all this could be.”

Russell scoops up a dozy Boris, who has squeezed his way through a cat flap (previously a Supertramp album cover).

“That’s just it, Lexi. No one is certain of the future. Our whole planet is in jeopardy unless people like you take a risk on people like me. I’ve read your resume. You have plenty of experience. I like your energy. Just say yes.”

Lexi is caught off guard by Russell’s directness. He might be making a more pertinent point than he realizes. She flashes back to all the jobs of the past few years that had initially appeared so suitable, only to unravel time and time again. Maybe for once she should stop trying to get it right and risk getting it wrong instead? She knows her mother wouldn’t agree, but perhaps a little reverse psychology is exactly what she needs to turn things around.

“Okay, Russell. I accept the challenge,” she says, deciding the only thing she has to lose is another job.

“You do?” he asks, looking shocked, leaving Lexi questioning how many applicants have declined the position before her.

“I do,” she responds, feeling only half as confident as she sounds.

GEORGE
7
^th
November, 2009
Camden, London

“It’s a croissant, you see, but with two types of chutney, one sweet, one sour, and layers of thinly sliced roast beef.” Simon licks his lips longingly, running his hand through his spiky red hair.

“Dude, you need to get laid,” says Duncan, throwing a baseball cap across the room. Simon ducks as it skims over his head. “In fact, so do you, George—what is it with us? Am I the only one getting any action around here?”

“I am,” offers Mark, the bass player and the only member of the band who is married.

“You don’t count!” says Duncan. “What happened to Fanny, George? She’s desperate to give you a guided tour.”

“Yeah, maybe,” says George, noncommittal. “She’s just a bit weird.”

Fanny Arundel—the UK’s answer to Katy Perry. Irreverent, wry and super sexy, she provokes controversy wherever she goes, singing about puppies and nipples and the war in Afghanistan, sometimes covering all three subjects in one song. She used to be a nurse before being discovered by Sebastian Stonehill, a respected record executive, who happened to be her patient in Intensive Care. He signed her to his label two weeks before succumbing to an infection, post open heart surgery. Much to the public horror of his wife, Fanny sang at his funeral and now wears numerous variations of a nurse’s uniform on stage in his memory. She drives young men to distraction.

“George, mate, weird is wonderful. Who knows what she might get up to—all sorts of kinky shit. Handcuffs, whips—you ever tried any of that?”

George should be accustomed to Duncan by now, so why does he still squirm when Duncan talks about sex? He’s almost positive Duncan should have been diagnosed with ADHD when he was a child. He is in his element perched behind the drums, but even without his sticks in hand, he is in perpetual motion.

The band have gathered together at their recording studio in Camden to continue brainstorming ideas for the next album and to discuss the upcoming North American tour with their manager, Gabe. George likes to describe Gabe as half Prince Charles, half Bob Marley. He is the product of a very rebellious aristocratic mother from Hampshire and an equally rebellious music producer from Kingston, Jamaica. As a result of straddling the two worlds effortlessly, he has all the finesse of a diplomat and his strategic choices for Thesis have been crucial to their rise. He also buys lunch.

Gabe walks into the room with a tray piled high with sandwiches, conveniently allowing George to dodge answering Duncan’s question.

“It’s my boys!” he says with a big grin. “Names are on the wrappers, dig in, and Simon, keep your comments to a minimum.” Simon lunges to grab his baguette and unwraps it carefully, holding it up to savour the moment before taking a bite.

“Now you’ve all got food in your faces, let’s get down to business,” says Gabe, pulling out his Blackberry. “We’re scheduled to fly to Las Vegas on the twelfth of November where we have a three-day video shoot for ‘I Knew It’. On the 16
^th
we’ve got five radio drop ins and some print interviews. On the 17
^th
we fly to LA. I’ll give you the schedule of interviews and TV appearances closer to the time, but we’re booked in for
The Tonight Show
for certain. Then there’s breakfast with the competition winners—”

“Oh man, Gabe, give us a break! I hate those bloody breakfast things—do you remember the whack job last time with the rancid breath?” Duncan shakes his head disgustedly.

“Dunc, these things are important,” says George, “I mean what’s the point of all of this if we become too superior to meet with our fans?”

“Meet with them is one thing, having to smell them while we eat with them is another.”

“Don’t come, then,” says Mark, renowned for being blunt.

“Well, of course I’ll come, I was just—”

“Whingeing,” interrupts Mark. “You were just whingeing as usual.”

“Sorry we can’t all be so bloody unflappable like you!” mimics Duncan in a forced English accent, his unpredictable temper rapidly heating up.

“Now, now, children,” says Simon.

George starts to feel the familiar anxiety rising in his chest again. Sometimes he has a nightmare that this… all of this… could crumble and deteriorate as quickly as it appeared and then he would be… and then he would be who? The horrible question haunting him more and more frequently.

The room is suddenly silent.

“Okay, then,” says Gabe, “can we get back to the schedule before we have to call in the group therapist and all do our Metallica impersonations? Duncan?”

“What, mate?” Duncan is up, pacing back and forth behind the sofas.

“You cool?”

“Yeah—Gabe—I’m cool. I’m fine.”

George knows Duncan is the wild card in the foursome. He has the potential to detonate and it worries him. It’s as if he’s just on the brink of being completely out of control but somehow always manages to pull it back in.

“Good to hear,” says Gabe, “so let’s talk about the acoustic show.”

The acoustic show is George’s baby—an unexpected treat for the fans—an intricately paired back set, played to an audience of a few hundred. Tickets are only available by entering a lottery on their website. They’ve chosen LA because it’s the city where they recorded their first album and holds a certain nostalgia. Plus they love the sunshine and the sushi bars.

“We’ve confirmed The Avid in Hollywood for the show. Built in the twenties—got a great vibe. We’ll film the gig and I’m thinking let’s leave it open to interpretation, give you guys a chance to improvise instead of micromanaging the entire evening. You up for that, George?”

George is not known for his risk taking, but he’s really looking forward to the show and wants to explore what it might be like again without the buffer of a stadium crowd.

“I’m definitely up for it,” says George, painfully aware that the smaller the gig the greater the chance of being exposed.

“Oh and I forgot to mention,” adds Gabe, “I heard from Fanny Arundel’s manager. It turns out that she’s coincidentally shooting her video in Vegas at the same time as us. Thought you might be interested in that bit of info.”

Fanny has had her sights set on George since meeting at last year’s Brit awards, and his lack of interest up until now has only fueled her pursuit.

George cringes inside. Truthfully, Fanny scares the shit out of him. He’s sure he could never live up to her raunchy expectations.

“You’ll definitely be into that, won’t you, mate?” teases Duncan, his juvenile tone reminding George of everything he would like to forget.

LEXI
November 7
^th
, 2009
Pacific Palisades, Los Angeles

Lexi is sitting with Meg in her backyard watching Jack and Annabelle play Happy Hippos on the lawn. Meg has remained Lexi’s best friend, except somewhere along the line, they seem to have swapped destinies. It is Meg who has the husband, house, children and dog, while Lexi is always the friend with a ‘story’ to tell. Usually the kind of story that leaves Meg asking, “Why do these insane things always happen to you?” But Lexi realizes that Meg finds her a welcome distraction. She often confides to Lexi that getting married too early has left her itchy. She’s on the subject now.