Trust Me (Beggar's Choice #2) (4 page)

“Yes likewise.” I reach out and
shake the hand that he stretches out to me. I want desperately to deny that we
were gossiping but we sort of were.

“Shall we take this into the
other room?” he asks brandishing a sheaf of papers and wincing as the boys
launch into another fast paced song.

“Okay.” I smile and follow him
into what turns out to be a recording studio. Settling down at a table he
spreads out the pages and produces a Montblanc pen with a flourish.

“Read these Miss Slater and then
I’m here to answer any questions you might have before you sign.” I nod and
read them through carefully but there don’t seem to be any big surprises here.
It’s the standard non- disclosure and contracts so I nod when I reach the end.

“That’s fine,” I smile. “I’ll
sign them now.”

Signing my name in the places
marked I hand him the sheets but he lingers. “You know Miss Slater these boys
are very famous.” I nod, wondering where he’s going with this. “I’m pointing
this out because you have signed a non-disclosure form and I would hate for you
to be released without pay because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut.” I gasp.
His face has transformed from polite geniality into something that looks almost
threatening.

“I won’t be repeating anything I
see,” I say firmly. “I’m not a gossipmonger and I’m well aware of what a chance
I’ve been given.”

“You might want to think about
that statement, coming as it does after I caught you gossiping with Mr Phillips
about Mr Hudson.”

“I wasn’t gossiping,” I say
hotly. “He was just saying how good the new music is and how much fun their
tours are.”

“Really?” he remarks in patent
disbelief and I flush angrily because we were sort of gossiping. “Well whatever
you say Miss Slater. Perhaps bear it in mind and you might also want to
concentrate on singing in the background where you obviously belong, rather
than trying to bag a rich rock star who has a
great
many problems.”

I gasp and I’m about to hotly
deny this but I’m interrupted by a cold voice from the door. “That’s enough
Bill,” Sid snaps. I look at him but his face is in shadow due to the bright
light behind him. Bill nods coolly but I notice he doesn’t apologise to Sid,
but instead shoots him a rather long suffering look as if he’s a small child
rather than a hulking, angry rock star. Gathering the papers together he leaves
with a muttered, “Later Miss Slater,” and then we’re left in silence. This
gathers before Sid breaks it by sighing.

“I’m sorry. Bill means well but
sometimes his delivery is a bit shit.”

“How much did you hear?” I ask
slowly.

“All of it.”

“It’s not true,” I say defiantly,
unable to bear him thinking I was gossiping about him with the aim of snaring
him. “I’m not trying to snag you. You’re quite free of that from me.” He raises
an eyebrow and just stares at me coldly and I look at him sharply, feeling
provoked beyond measure by that utter disinterest. “I need a rock star like you
in my life like I need a good dose of herpes.” For a second he seems to wince
and I immediately feel guilty and open my mouth to apologise, but then his
expression ices over even more.

“You’re going on tour with
Beggar’s Choice,” he says coldly, turning to go. “Judging from past experiences
I’d have to say that a dose of the clap might be the least of your worries.”

Sid

I stalk back into the rehearsal
room where the boys are grabbing a break and getting themselves drinks. I’d
suggested a break as soon as Bill had taken Nell into the other room. I know
he’s been our manager for a few years now but he’s a barracuda where our
interests are concerned, and he’s always been deeply suspicious about any women
around us. I think he’s just waiting for a Yoko Ono to appear and mess with his
pay check. Charlie, obviously seeing my expression immediately wanders over.
“Jesus who pissed in your cornflakes?”

“Fucking Bill.” I roll my
shoulders to get rid of the tension.

“What’s he done now?”

“Accusing Nell of being here so
she can bag a band member.”

“Bag or bang?” he asks, waggling
his eyebrows and trying to make me laugh. He’s onto a loser with that. I can
still hear Nell’s words echoing in my head. She’d rather have an STD than me?
I’d laugh if I wasn’t so fucking devastated. Even when I was fucked off my tits
there weren’t many women that would have said no to me. I’m not being
conceited, the money’s the lure not me, I know that, but even so I like Nell.
She’s the first woman I’ve met for years who intrigues me, and she obviously
thinks that I’m just a short step up from dog shit. Maybe she’s right because
I’ve never been an angel. Dismissing her from my mind takes an effort that
surprises me. I’ve only met her twice but already she occupies more of my
thoughts than I can handle. I’ve thought of her too many times over the last
couple of days for my peace of mind - her face, her expressions, her body.
Admittedly some of those thoughts have been accompanied by my hand on my dick.
Looking up I focus again on Charlie who’s looking at me with a concentrated
expression on his face.

“Hello,” he says slowly. “You
went off somewhere. Did I hit the nail on the head there? Is there a guitarist
in this room - a special little man, who wants her to catch him?”

“Fuck off,” I say quickly trying
not to laugh. I need to get him off this right now because I’ll never hear the
end of it. He’ll share it with the boys and with Mabes. She’ll share with Viv
and before I know it the boys will be ripping the shit out of me and making
Nell feel uncomfortable. I think of the moment earlier on when my fingers had
drifted over the threadbare material of her flimsy coat and the fucking shame
on her face. The thought of someone like her being cold because she can’t
afford a coat hits me somewhere inside, a soft underbelly that I’d thought I’d
eradicated a long while ago which in itself is worrying. I can’t have her feel
so uncomfortable that she has to leave because it’s obvious that she needs this
job and before I can stop myself I open my fucking mouth. “Does she look like
someone I’d fuck?” I laugh. “Come on, you’ve seen the girls I like. Never in a
million years would I fuck her.” Charlie’s expression freezes and I feel
someone move behind me and I go stock still as Nell brushes past me and walks
back to the settee and that fucking bastard Adam who’s been flirting with her
all morning. “Shit did she hear me?” I groan.

“I think so,” he mutters, swiping
his hand down over his face.

“Great that’s all I need. Now our
fucking backing singer hates me.”

“No she doesn’t. Just have a word
with her and tell her that you were joking. Anyway, why do you care Sid? You
don’t want her after all.”

“I just don’t want her upset,” I say
staunchly and hoping to fuck he leaves this alone.

“Okay,” he elongates the word.
“Whatever you say.”

“I do say so, so fucking leave it
alone. Anyway, back to Bill. He’s becoming a problem to me Charlie.”

He sighs. “I know. It’s been
coming for a while since you got clean.”

“He’s so fucking patronising.
When I express an opinion it’s like I’m five and he wants to give me a fucking
pat on the head and tell me to go away and play with my toys.”

“You’ve got to remember mate that
you were fucked up when we hired him. He’s never seen you clean so he has no
idea that this is the way you are. You know – focused and wanting all the
details. He just knows you as being fuck faced and way too laid back.”

“Well that’s over now.”

“Is it?”

 I look at him sharply. “What
the fuck does that mean?”

He holds up his hands in apology.
“I just want you to be happy mate. I want you to stay off that fucking shit.”

“I’ve been clean for eighteen
months now. What gives you the fucking idea that I’m going to go back on the
gear?” Even I can hear the defensiveness in my voice.

“You just worry me sometimes,” he
says softly. “I know you’re clean Sid. Nobody works harder on that than you,
and I’m so fucking proud of you for that. You’ve got a strength of mind that I
don’t have.”

“But?”

“But you’re not living mate. You
just exist with this fierce drive to stay clean. Everything you do is done with
this concentration on being clean and nothing else. I know you need that to
stay good but I just want you to live life to the full. I want to see you
happy, that’s all.”

“I am happy,” I say somewhat
defensively because I know he’s speaking the truth. I’m not happy really. I
don’t remember the last time I was, to be honest. I know there must be more to
life but in my experience I’ve never found it, which looking back might be one
of the reasons why I got hooked on the shit in the first place. “I’ll get
there.” I emphasise the words for his benefit because I fucking hate seeing him
worried about me. He should be enjoying himself with Mabe after waiting all
these years for her, instead of wasting time on me. I just wish sometimes, well
a lot, that all the drug shit that we went through could vanish from everyone’s
memories as if it never happened. For once I’d like to be the one taking care
of someone rather than everyone trying to take care of me. I know it sounds
ungrateful but just once I’d like everyone to treat me the way that they used
to, without those little sidelong glances they think I don’t see, where they’re
analysing my state of mind, my happiness and whether I’m going to fuck off and
snort some more coke up my nose. I think that’s why I’m interested in Nell to
some extent because never once has she given me that concerned look, like she’s
worried that she’ll send me off the deep end. Instead, her focus is entirely on
me and I love that feeling almost as much as I hate it coming from someone I
can never have a chance with. She’s too good for a waster like me.

He draws me into a tight one
armed hug. “I know you will,” he says fiercely, “And if you can’t do it I’m
going to help you.”

“Oh please don’t,” I say faintly.
“I don’t think you should be having conversations with me about emotions.
Hasn’t Mabe banned you from this because you’ve not qualified as a mature human
being yet?”

Immediately his attention is
diverted as I knew it would be when I mention his wife, and he smiles. “What
the fuck does she know?” he says lordly. “I’m the king of sorting emotional
shit out.”

“Wow, ‘
emotional
shit’
,”
I drawl. “Nice to know you feel my pain brother.”

He laughs but I think I’ve
misjudged how distracted he is because he shoots me a sharp look. “I’ll keep an
eye on Bill, set him straight.”

“No you won’t, I will.” He nods
after a minute and I relax slightly. He has to get used to me being in control
again. If he can’t our relationship will suffer because it’ll drive me crazy
being with people who don’t trust my instincts. I don’t need protecting. As if
he’s read my feelings he leans in.

“You’ll always be my brother Sid.
You and Mabe are everything to me. Even if you hadn’t been stupid I’d still
worry about you. That’s just me.” I nod. “And you’re going to tolerate my over
protective tendencies, while I go along like a good boy with your micromanaging
every piece of shit in our lives.” I laugh out loud and he grins. “I’m still
going to see you happy mate whatever it takes,” he whispers and moves off.
Fucking bastard always has to have the last word.

I catch sight of Nell sitting on
the settee and steeling myself I walk over. “Can I have a word Nell?” I’m
trying not to sound harsh but from the wince on Adam’s face I don’t think that
I’ve succeeded.

“Of course,” she says stiffly and
I usher her back into the other room ignoring Charlie’s grin. When we get there
I turn to face her.

“I’m so sorry that you had to hear
that from me.”

She stares. “You’re sorry I heard
it, or sorry you said it?” she asks coolly and I can actually feel a blush
glowing on my cheeks.

“Both,” I say quickly. “Either. I
didn’t mean it, you have to know that.” She glares at me coldly and I hurry on.
“I mean I’d definitely fuck you. You’re not deficient in any way.”

“Wow,” she says faintly and I
foolhardily carry on. Jesus I should probably be cupping my balls about now
because she looks ready to launch at me.

“Yes. I’d definitely do you, not
that I’m this massive arbiter of good taste or anything. Jesus, you should see
some of the women I’ve been with …” My voice trails off because I actually feel
like I’ve regressed back to when I was ten and used to say stupid shit when I
was under pressure. I rub the back of my neck and shuffle my feet like some sad
twat and her gaze shifts to a mixture of humour and confusion.

“Well, thank you for clearing
that up Mr Hudson,” she says slowly.
Don’t call me Mr Hudson
I want to
shout.
Treat me like you do the other men. Be that friendly to me
. But I
don’t and I know that my face has frozen into that hard look that I use to
deflect attention, because the humour dies leaving something that, shit, looks
a lot like hurt. “Listen I know you don’t really like me, that’s very clear.” I
open my mouth to protest but she doesn’t allow it. “So why don’t we just be
cordial and work together. I’ll do my job to the best of my ability and as my
boss you’ll let me know if I do anything wrong?” She looks at me in question
and I nod like some dumb, fucking idiot. She looks almost relieved. “Okay then
I’ll go back out there now if that’s okay with you?” I gesture to her to go
first and she sashays out, her tight little backside wriggling. I look for a
second because fuck I’m only human and she has the best arse I’ve ever seen,
but then I resolutely look up.
Colleagues
I tell myself.
Work
colleagues
only
and I hope to fuck I can keep it like that.

Three weeks later I’m sitting on
the settee in the rehearsal room waiting for Seth and Adam to arrive. Adam’s on
his way back from a dentist’s appointment, and Seth’s running late because he’s
being interviewed about his drum preference or something. As Charlie says it
shouldn’t really take that long because if you put it in front of him he’ll
bang it and that includes women. The other boys are drifting around. Bram’s on
his phone sorting something out with Alys his lodger. She’s an exceptionally
beautiful woman and I’d have expected after a few weeks of knowing Bram, to
find him all over her. However, the dynamics of their relationship are
strained. He ignores her almost resolutely and with a steely determination,
while she seems to do her level best to wind him up. Currently she seems to be
leading him a merry dance over a matter of being rude to one of his women, and
from his infuriated expression he’s not getting very far in chastising her.

Charlie and Sid are talking
intensely with Bill about something to do with accommodation and the tour
buses, hence me sitting right out of sight where Bill won’t see me. He hasn’t
warmed to me at all and treats me with this cold scepticism like he’s waiting
for me to fuck up and sell them all out. I don’t know whether he thinks this
coldness will worry me, but I apprenticed at the feet of the Mistress in Ice,
formerly known as my mother, so although I stay out of the way, I can’t bring
myself to care much about his opinion.

It’s been a hard few weeks. The
tour starts in December and we’re cramming in five day working weeks starting
at 10 am and running through until 7 pm when we break for dinner. I’m usually
invited and we descend on Charlie’s kitchen where his housekeeper Mrs M will
have cooked something. She’s a character and has a cackle like an alcoholic
witch but she’s been quite kind to me. Mabe says that she’s not normally nice
but she thinks that because she and Charlie are married now Mrs M has softened
somewhat as she doesn’t have to run anyone off her turf. Plus, Mabe is either
too nice or too busy at work to try to boss her around.

Mabe has been a revelation to me.
When we first met I think she was understandably nervous about another woman
working so closely with her husband, and I was afraid that she’d turn out to be
a rock star wag like so many of the women that orbit the business. It’s nice to
know that we were each wrong, and slowly we’ve been building the foundations of
a good friendship. She’s funny and kind and Sid and Charlie are devoted to her.
With Mabe comes Viv, and although she’s a lot more raucous she seems to accept
me as an extension of Mabe’s life, and we’ve bonded over a love of Mojitos and
dark chocolate.

The rehearsals run very
differently from anything I’ve encountered before. For a start the boys really
get on. They’re like one big family as clichéd as that might sound, and they’re
a seamless outfit after so many years together. They’re also incredibly
focused. Many a day has passed where Sid would play with just Bram or Bram with
Seth if they’re waiting for everyone. According to Sid this is because in the
early days they would often have problems with the sound so they like to be
prepared and know it blindfold. Similarly Charlie will often sit with me while
the rhythm section plays because Sid, or Adolf as Charlie keeps calling him,
wants them to be tight in case there’s no lyric cues.

Thinking of Sid my attention
shifts to him. He’s standing listening to Bill talk with his arms crossed over
his chest and a closed expression on his face. His hair is shiny with health,
hitting the base of his neck and he’s wearing a pair of low hanging dark jeans
with a navy plaid shirt hanging loose. His shoes are a pair of blue suede Nike
trainers and he’s rolled up the sleeves on his shirt showing off the sleeve of
tattoos on his right arm. At first glance you would place Charlie as the leader
simply because he’s the showman and Sid is quieter. However, appearances can be
deceptive because Sid is just as funny with a wry deprecating wit, and he’s
unmistakably in the driving seat at the moment. He leads the band rehearsals
which is good because bands have a tendency to drift into arguments during
rehearsals if no one is in charge. Sid seems ideal for this role as he’s much
less impatient than Charlie and he has a quiet authority. He’s also one of the
main songwriters so he knows the sound inside out.

As for me they seem happy with
the way that things are going, in fact more than happy. I’ve slotted in fairly
seamlessly and the new stuff is a dream to sing on. I was encouraged to find
that I hadn’t lost my touch because all the areas that I identified as needing
my voice are the ones they want filling. I love singing with Charlie as his
voice meshes perfectly with mine, and it’s sad but I’m starting to live to see
that smile of satisfaction that occasionally crosses Sid’s face when he’s
listening to us. He’s a firm task master but he’s extremely generous with
praise if he feels that it’s really earned. As if I’ve summoned him with my
thoughts someone slides in next to me and I turn to see him watching me. Unlike
the other boys who I’ve bonded with, he and I have maintained a cordial
distance since I heard him denouncing me as the last woman on earth that he’d
like to fuck. He’d tried to explain his comments afterwards but I’m afraid that
I wasn’t terribly receptive, and after a couple of attempts he’d given up and
we’d lapsed into cool neutrality. Now though he looks cross and slightly
ruffled and looking across I see Charlie wind milling his arms about while
looking agitatedly at Bill.

“Problems?” I ask nodding towards
them.

He sighs. “Just the usual
fuckwittery,” he mutters. “I’m not happy about us leaving the choices of venue
up to Bill because he’s making some questionable choices.”

“He’s not happy that you’re
touring smaller venues is he?” I venture.

“Nope and some of what he’s doing
smacks of sabotage, and to top that he’s booked this cheapass bus for the
roadies. It’s a total piece of shit and I’m not having it.” I look at him
searchingly because the music industry is known for the star tossers that let
their staff travel in squalor while they live it up on multi million pound tour
buses. “That’s not us,” he says in answer to my look. “Those guys work harder
than us so the least we can do is let them have a good night’s sleep.”

“So what have you done?”

“Told Bill to change it,” he says
simply.

“Ooh, I bet that went down well.”

“It didn’t and it got worse
because he persists in talking to me like I’m Rain Man.”

I laugh out loud and he smiles
showing all his white, straight teeth. “I’ll have to start calling you Raymond,”
I tease and he throws his head back laughing out loud and I swear I actually
dribble. The man is gorgeous when he’s a hot, brooding mess but when he’s
laughing he’s a knockout.

“The new stuff’s brilliant,” I
volunteer somewhat hesitantly because I really, really don’t want him thinking
that I’m trying to kiss his arse, but to my amazement he wrinkles his nose and
seesaws his hand. “You don’t like it?”

He shifts slightly. “No, it’s
fine. It’s just sometimes it gets a bit uncomfortable singing lyrics that seem
to be an ode to my sister in law’s vagina!” We look at each other for a second
and simultaneously burst into laughter. Finally he sobers and looks at me and I
wait for him to get up and leave like he normally does when we connect, but
instead he eases deeper into the settee as if settling down for a bit. He nods
to my side where my violin is resting in its case.

“Thinking of doing a bit of
busking while you wait?” he teases and I flush in embarrassment.

“I’m not angling to play with you
all,” I say quickly and he immediately shakes his head.

“I know that,” he says calmly.
“You just bring it in every day and leave with it at night without saying a
word about it. Bram reckons you’re a member of the Mafia.”

I laugh. “Merry Christmas you
filthy animal,” I say in an American accent.

“Did you just quote ‘Home Alone’?
I’m so impressed.”

“You should be.”

“So why do you bring it?”

I’ve noticed before that he’s
like a terrier when he’s after something so I shrug. “It’s precious to me and I
can’t leave it at home so it travels with me.”

“Why?” He sits forward looking at
me intently.

“It’s not that safe at home,” I
say slowly, hoping that he won’t ask too many questions because how can I admit
that if I leave it at home mum or Molly might sell it. “Like I say it’s very
precious to me and I worry if it’s not with me.”

“Why is it so precious?” He asks
almost tentatively like he’s getting ready for me to shut down but for some
reason I want to tell him. Every day that goes by when I can’t talk about Sam
is making me feel like he never existed at all.

“My brother bought it for me.”

“Ah, the guitarist. Wow he must
love you,” he whistles. “That’s a vintage Hofner isn’t it?” I look at him in
surprise and he shrugs. “I know my instruments and Paul McCartney played a
Hofner guitar for years. He must be a good brother because they’re not cheap.”

“He was,” I say sadly. “But he
did love me,” and even to my ears that sounds defensive.

He catches the use of the past
tense and a look of distress passes over his face. “Is he …?”

I nod. “Yes, he died three years
ago.”

“I’m
so
sorry,” he says
simply and there’s a wealth of feeling in his voice and his eyes when he looks
over at Charlie, obviously imagining a similar thing happening to him.

“Thank you.” I say this plainly
but I mean it. His honest sympathy is a very clean emotion compared to the
maelstrom of feelings that whirl around waiting for me when I get home. We’re
silent for a minute but it’s a comfortable silence and it stretches until he
stirs.

“Are you any good?” He looks at
me and then laughs. “You’re good,” he says in an obvious reply to the pride on
my face.

“I’m okay,” I say modestly. “I
can play most things.”

“Would you play for me?” he asks
hesitantly and I look around in consternation.

“Here?”

He nods. There’s no one around as
everyone seems to have disappeared for the moment. “Come on play me something,”
he pleads and I capitulate.

“What do you want to hear?” I
open the case and take the violin from its bed of deep blue crushed velvet. I
cradle it lovingly feeling the shiny patina of its well-worn wood. I lift up
the Pernambuco bow and notch the violin under my chin. He strokes his stubble
and I hear the rasp of the harsh hair. His eyes look bluer than ever today.

“Play me something from a film,” he
says at last and then snaps his fingers. “How about the music from ‘The Last of
the Mohicans’? I watched that last night and the music was heavily violin
based. Can you play that?”

I laugh and for a second his eyes
seem caught on my lips and I swallow hard. “I used to play that when I was
busking. If I dressed really shittily I used to get loads of cash.” He laughs
and then sits thinking.

“What about the bit where they
kiss for the first time?” I look at him out of the corner of my eye. That
obviously made an impact on him and I wonder if beneath that cynicism is a
closet romantic.

“Okay, I think that bit is
actually called ‘The Kiss’.”  I lift the bow and slide it across the
strings and the first notes of that beautiful score fill the room. It isn’t a long
piece but I’m totally swept into the music, my only awareness the sharpness of
his eyes as he leans forward in obvious delight, examining the placement of the
bow and the movements of my fingers intently as only a true musician would.
Finally I come to the end and as the notes die away we’re left in a heavy
silence. He looks at me searchingly and opens his mouth but whatever he was
going to say is lost when someone starts clapping behind me. Turning around I
smile at Seth as he strides towards us bundled into a leather jacket and
battered old jeans with windswept hair and ruddy cheeks.

“Fucking hell that was
brilliant,” he laughs, sitting on the arm of the sofa and resting his feet on
the cushions. “So much better than Bram’s theory about the Mafia.” I laugh and
he smiles. “You’ve got to use that,” he says to Sid and I protest.

“Oh no I wasn’t playing for that
reason.”

“I know,” he says simply and it’s
obvious that he too knows the joy of playing just to play. “Even so that could
shake the fuck up of quite a few songs. It’ll add a new twist to some of the
old stuff as well Sid.”

He looks beyond me at Sid who
when I turn back is examining me closely as if I’m under a microscope. “How
would you feel about that Nell? Would you be comfortable playing in front of
crowds?” he asks and for a second I mourn the fact that since he upset me he
hasn’t once called me Nelly. It irritates me when other people do it but
somehow I yearn for him to do it and give me that teasing connection again.

I smile - if only he knew. “It’s
fine,” I say casually. “I enjoy playing for lots of people but only as long as
everyone else wants me to do it.”

Sid smiles excitedly. “I can’t
wait. Let’s go and find the others and start right away.” Seth laughs and claps
him on the back and walks off. Sid goes to follow him but then something stops
him and he turns back to me.

“Nell,” he says hesitantly, and I
smile at him encouragingly.

“Yes?”

“You said that you taught violin.
Do you think you could teach me?” I stare at him in amazement and misinterpreting
it he rushes into speech. “I’d pay you of course.”

“You don’t need to pay me. Of
course I’ll teach you. I’d love that.” He looks dubious but it’s the truth.
After three years of teaching reluctant children, a proper musician will be a
treat.

He smiles and his whole face
lights up. “We could have an hour before everyone else gets here in the
mornings if you like? How about starting tomorrow?” I nod and he goes to walk
off and then twirls round to face me again looking nervous. “If you like you
could always leave your violin with me.” I look at him surprised and
unbelievably touched, but he obviously takes this to mean affront and he shakes
his head and holds his hands up. “It was just a thought. I mean I wouldn’t ever
leave it here. I’d take it home with me and keep it safe I promise you.”