Strings (15 page)

I think you’re mental!

December 2013

‘I’m so sorry to bother you, but please can I have your autograph?’
The girl standing nervously next to their table asked. It was the third time today they’d been stopped and asked to sign things or pose for pictures with a fan. This girl, just like the others, was shaking with nervous excitement. Luke signed the poster for her and Melissa took a photo of them both on the girl’s phone. Her name was Anna, and they could tell they had just made her day. Melissa painted on her smile, but underneath she just wanted one day to have Luke all to herself. But that wasn't happening at the moment, and there was little chance of things changing anytime soon. Luke and the guys were heading to New York in a few days to promote their new record. So he’d taken her out in London for some shopping and dinner before he left.

             
They were sitting at a table at the back of the restaurant, attempting to keep a low profile. Luke’s arm rested around her shoulder as they talked. ‘That’s the third time today – that one looked like she was going to faint.’

             
‘Yeah well, I am pretty awesome – you are aware who you’re dating, right? I’m a pretty big deal now!’

             
‘Yeah, and you’re so modest too!’ Melissa mocked, and slapped him playfully on the arm. ‘You do remember who made all this happen?’ She raised her eyebrows at him smugly. She could feign arrogance just as well as he could.

             
He smiled and kissed her forehead. ‘How could I ever forget? I suppose you’re pretty awesome too.’

*****

The band had been busy for the past few weeks, ever since Sky Storm Records had signed them. Sky Storm were known in the business as a hard label to get noticed by, and Jay-Den Lake’s approval was the icing on the cake. Melissa didn’t fully understand all the details of how it worked, and although it was great to finally get some recognition and earn some money, she couldn’t help feeling slightly disappointed by how little the band would actually receive from the music they sold. Twenty per cent of their record sales didn’t really seem that much in the grand scheme of things, bearing in mind that the label would take the rest. Jay-Den had given them a long and complicated explanation of the expenses the label would pay on their behalf – production costs, marketing and promotion, staff, travel, accommodation, venue hire and ticketing to name just a few. But she still knew that the label would be taking a bigger profit than the band, and that didn’t quite feel right to her. But it was a tough business and this was their first contract which represented their big break, so they weren’t really in a position to call the shots or complain.

The label placed huge demands on the boys
, and when they weren’t doing promotional work Luke was expected to keep writing new material. There was some oversight from the Sky Storm people, who wanted to make sure their sound was consistent with the image being portrayed to the public. But on the whole he was given the freedom to write naturally. None of the band would have stood for excessive or overbearing influence over their music. From the start, Sky Storm had made it clear that because they were a ‘real band’, they would be allowed the freedom to stay true to their own style – provided it was of a high enough standard, and gave the public what they wanted. This was undoubtedly a commercial stance by Sky Storm, rather than being borne out of respect for them as artists, but the boys didn’t care because it gave them what they wanted.

             
From a practical point of view, they found that doors opened for them wherever they went. In the past they’d had to pay for everything themselves, and find venues willing to let them play in return for a small fee and a guarantee of a decent bar takings. Sometimes they felt as though they ended up providing most of the bar’s income themselves after the show. It wasn’t easy to find places to play, when there were countless other aspiring bands competing for the same slots. They had often been disheartened when it felt like the doors were always closed. But now, everything had changed. Everything was organised by the label, who had the contacts, influence and financial might to book Wembley for them, if they wanted to. Maybe not just yet though.   

             
Before Jay-Den had made his call, Melissa would watch Luke phoning round, searching for somewhere to play. She felt his disappointment when he was told no, and although he would shrug it off as if it didn’t matter, she could see in his eyes just how much it meant to him. She sometimes found it hard to accept like he did – some of them made no attempt to let them down gently or even be polite. She wanted to call them back and ask what their problem was. She could understand why so many bands never got beyond the garage practice sessions. There were only so many rejections most people could take, and you needed a special kind of determination and belief to keep going until you changed people’s minds.

             
In stark contrast were the times when they did manage to get a gig. To have people paying to see them play, and reacting positively to their performance made it all worthwhile. For Melissa, seeing Luke beaming after a great gig was the best feeling in the world. She could only imagine how he felt – after all, it was his band, his performance, and they were his songs which he put his heart and soul into writing.

             
Their last gig before being signed nearly ended badly though. Their performance was flawless and as usual went down a storm with the crowd – so far so good. But afterwards, while they were at the bar, a guy talking loudly with his mates was making it very clear that while he was impressed by the playing skills of the band, the songwriter deserved a slap because he was shit. He obviously hadn’t realised they were behind him, or maybe he didn’t care due to his bad attitude and several beers. Either way they could hear every word, and even his mates looked embarrassed by his rant.

             
Melissa couldn’t see Luke’s face, but his body language told her he had heard it. She threw Dale a look which said, ‘Watch him, I’ve got this covered’.

             
Beth saw the look too and cleared her throat, preparing for a showdown. She noticed that Toby was eyeing the guy, and gripping the neck of his beer bottle tightly in his hand. She nudged him to pass on the message. Nobody quite knew what was going to happen next, but everyone knew Melissa was going to do something. She casually ordered a pint of beer, took a few sips and edged a little closer to the guy, so she was touching his back. Then she turned, bumping into him and letting the pint glass fly out of her hand. She gave it a clever little flick as she let go, so that it somersaulted in the air and rained beer down on her target, soaking him from head to foot. At the same time, she pretended to stumble, lifting her heel and stamping it down on his right foot with considerable force. The guy screamed out in pain, falling backwards and taking two of his friends with him. They toppled into a table full of girls who were now covered in their drinks. It was a chaotic scene, and a row ensued between Gob Shite – as Melissa later called him – and a pack of angry, wine-soaked women.

             
Toby casually finished his beer and spun the bottle in his hand before launching it in Gob Shite’s direction. It narrowly missed him, smashing at his feet. Toby agreed later that it was a stupid thing to do, and he was lucky he was such a bad shot.

‘Fucking gobby little prick,’ he boomed, towering over the heads of the shocked crowd. Before a full-scale riot kicked off, the doormen intervened and they decided it was time to leave, and fast. Luckily they managed a quick getaway as the van had been packed up ready to go before they hit the bar. Dale, much
to his annoyance, was the designated driver. But rules were rules.

‘You are one feisty little lady!’ Luke said once they were on the road and clear of any trouble. He was secretly proud of her for defending his honour, stopping him from giving the guy a slap and producing a very clever assault disguised as an accident, all at the same time.

              ‘Fucking idiot. So rude! Bet he’s never written a song in his life.’ Melissa still wasn’t amused.

             
Luke played it cool, but she knew it must have hit a nerve. He hadn’t given the guy any satisfaction by reacting to it, even if he had wanted to put his head through the nearest window.

             
They had then headed back to Melissa’s to carry on with the party, feeling a little fortunate not to be in the cells for the night.

The clock showed just past six the next morning as Melissa stood in the centre of her small living room, surrounded by her friends, who were all snoring away and sprawled untidily where they’d collapsed. The surprising thing was that she was the last one standing, something that almost never happened.

             
For different reasons, she was completely in love with each one of them, mad as they were. She lifted Luke’s head, which was hanging over the edge of the sofa, in what looked like the most uncomfortable position possible. She placed it on a cushion, hoping he wouldn’t wake up with neck strain. He barely even noticed.

             
For some reason, she decided to go and check the van. The lock could be dodgy at times, and they had to be careful with it. It was lucky she thought of this, because yet again it had come loose, and one door had swung wide open in the wind, leaving all their equipment on show. Luke’s electric guitar had fallen over, and was hanging out of the door. Dale’s Gibson Les Paul, which he called Ebony, was also leaning precariously, threatening to end up on the pavement. She picked up both carefully and tried to lock the van up securely, only after checking that nothing was missing. Strangely, she knew exactly what should be in the van, and she knew just how important every little piece of equipment was to them. The contents of this van might as well be the beating heart of the band. Then she spent several undignified minutes scrambling around under the van, retrieving Dale’s spare picks which had also fallen out. She started to wish she hadn’t bothered, now that her hangover was kicking in. She wanted to sleep, so she quickly finished up and went back inside, looking for a comfortable retreat. Before going in, she obsessively checked the lock to make sure it was now well and truly secure. She decided to take Luke’s most precious possessions with her, because she couldn’t get them to sit right in the van, and she felt uneasy about not having them in sight. If anything happened to them he would have a meltdown and they didn’t have the money to replace them. If they’d been thinking straight when they got back, they would have taken it all in, but they were already half-cut. Apart from Dale that is, who’d been itching to get started.

             
‘Fix that damned lock, Maxwell …’ she cursed as she went inside. It was Toby’s van, but it had become the band’s official tour bus. They called it Alf, because it was ‘A Little Fucked’ and it had its own song, which they sang for entertainment on long road trips to gigs.

             
Later that afternoon Melissa told her story to the others, and they all had a good laugh about it. Dale admitted that although he was grateful for her efforts, those picks were old and destined for the bin anyway.

             
‘You are fucking kidding me? Dammit, I scraped my knee and nearly broke a nail!’ she cursed him, and threw a pillow at him, knocking his afternoon ‘wake up beer’ all over him.

             
‘Thanks, babe,’ Luke whispered once she’d stopped attacking his best friend. Protecting his guitars – another telling sign that she was perfect for him, he thought.

                                                                    *****

              It was a very exciting time, and Luke had to pinch himself every day. Everything was top secret until the contracts were signed, but it was hard not to shout it from the rooftops. Melissa had never used her social networking sites as much as she had in the last few weeks, and as soon as she was allowed to, she told the world. She’d cried when he came home with a bottle of champagne in one hand, and a copy of the contract in the other.

             
‘Sorry it’s taken a while, but I got there in the end,’ he said, referring to the conversation they’d had when they first met about hitting the big time. The studio time had been the most incredible experience; better than he had imagined. They were living the dream, and loving every second of it. They had shot a video in London for their first single, which was a surreal experience to say the least. They wanted an English feel to it, so they turned down the opportunity to fly to the States to make it. The theme was couples arguing because the song was about the mind games people can play when in a destructive relationship. It was gritty, but slick and stylish. The girl hired to play Luke’s love interest was an Italian model, and Melissa had to take a deep breath when she first saw it. Some of the scenes were a bit intense – heated and explosive rows turned quickly into passionate ‘making up’, only to explode again. Each member of the band had an on-screen partner, with perfect model looks. Melissa had to remind herself that it was just acting, and Beth was in the same dilemma. But once they’d got over their initial urges to scratch the girls’ eyes out, they agreed that they loved it.