The Bare Necessities (Non-Profane Edition) (11 page)

Paige loved some
of the lyrics, especially “Even My Dog Wants You Dead” that he
wrote after seeing Ellie a couple of months previous. Jack was
happy for his two band members to amend his songs and Paige had
made sweeping changes to several of his tracks to increase their
tempo.

Paige was more protective of her three songs; “I Am
Free” was written about a naturist running through a rainstorm and
she argued that Jack could not understand the song as he was “a
bloody textile.” He raised his eyebrows at the time and pointed out
that he was recording their music naked – at her insistence – but
this was not sufficient for the fiery redhead to concede to his
changes.

As June and their
exams drew to a close, the three of them had twelve songs they were
delighted with and had spent hours perfecting, and Paige had grown
to like her wealthy friend. True to her promise, she had kissed him
after every session, but had also told him that it didn't mean that
she liked him, much to Claire's amusement; Paige was obviously
lying and it was clear Paige and Jack had developed a bond that
neither of them wanted to admit to.

“What we need to
do is some gigs,” Paige muttered. “Studio singing is fine, but
singing live will be awesome.”

“I was going to
send our CD off to some record companies,” Jack suggested. “I mean,
they will love some of it, I know.” Paige sniffed and ran her hands
through her hair. “They will love Paige's voice, certainly.”

“I hadn't thought
of being a music star.”

“Yeah, if you go
on TV you need to sing with your clothes on,” Claire added.

“Depends on the TV
channel!” She quipped and shrugged. “Yeah, I know. OK, send 'em
off, I think it'll be a good experience. But I have no idea if I
can sing well with my clothes on.”

“Really?” Jack
asked. “You would be OK with us sending copies of our music to
record companies and agents and the like?” Paige nodded as she
downed the lunchtime beer. “Oh and I've had an idea for a change of
riff in the Cotton Tails.”

Paige groaned; it
was one of her songs that he wanted to change, but he tugged at her
naked arm and the nude girl returned to their studio room.

* *
* * *

“Jack,” his father
boomed, and the eighteen year-old shifted awkwardly. “Now that your
exams are over, I bet you want to get straight down and working at
the firm,” he gushed.

Jack groaned.
“Well …”

“Well what,
darling?” The simpering voice of Anne Rees-Montague asked. “You
can't stay around here all day.”

“Yeah, I know,”
Jack agreed. “But I've got all year. I've worked really hard on my
A Levels, and I would love a few weeks, just 'til I get my results,
to just chill and spend some 'me time.'”

“Me time?” His
father laughed and tapped on the table. “You're eighteen, lad! Yer
need to stop fannying about and get some real work done.”

“I will. I want a
few weeks, just to recharge my batteries.”

“Work'll do that,”
his father barked. “And what would you do for two months?”

Jack sighed. “I'm
back into my music. After Ellie left, I lost the will to do it, but
now I am taking full advantage of the recording studio. I'll start
in September time.”

His father snorted
and spoke derisively at his son. “I don't think so.”

“Paul,” a voice
came from the corner of the room, and Jack looked to see his Aunt
Lucinda holding a half-empty bottle of whisky in her hand.”

“This doesn't
concern you,” she was told, but Lucinda cackled and sat down on the
sofa. “Can you leave us please? I need to have a word with my
son.”

“Yeah and it's my
nephew that you are terrorising.”

“When I want
parenting advice from you, I shall ask.”

Lucinda sat back
and smiled at her brother. “I remember a little boy starting work
at seventeen in the holidays and used to come home crying 'cause
his father had made him work from 8am to 8pm without a break and he
just wanted time with his secret girlfriend.” Paul sat motionless.
“What was her name? Remind me.”

“It doesn't
matter.”

“I think it does.
She was the daughter, or niece of the gardener. You remember?
Lovely little red-headed girl. Always smiling and very agreeable.
What was her name?”

“Gina,” he said
quietly.

“Gina,” Lucinda
repeated loudly and took a swig from the bottle of expensive single
malt. “That was it. And what happened to Gina?”

“This is not the
time or the place,” he thundered. “And …”

“She got extremely
bored of an unhappy young man. And she went, taking her sweet
little red hair and bounce away with her.” Paul's eyes narrowed,
and Lucinda smiled at her incandescent brother. “Only what you are
doing to Jack, happened to you. You think it's some rite of
passage, to be a bastard to your children?”

“Get out!” Paul
shouted, but Lucinda sat unmoved. “I said …”

“I heard,” she
told him. “And I am ignoring you. As I bet you wished you ignored
our father.” He gulped, and Lucinda cleared her throat. “’Cause by
the time you did stand up to him, sweet little Gina was off being
agreeable with someone else. So, Jack isn't working for you, he
wants to be free for a few weeks. Give 'em that, 'cause when he
starts working, he ain't gonna stop 'til he's in his sixties.” Paul
shook his head, and Lucinda added. “Or has a nervous
breakdown.”

Paul flinched, and
she got up. “It's my choice, it's my …”

“It's Jack's
actually. But if I find him working next week, I might just look to
see about my shares in the firm and what rights I have to manage
it. After all, I have a vested interest in my nephew's future
employment as well.”

“But … we
agreed.”

“Yeah. And you
also told me when you cried yourself to sleep every night that if
you had kids you wouldn't be like our Dad was. You break your
promise, I break mine.” He grunted and gestured wildly at his
departing sister. “Now I'm off to the Off License, want
anything?”

Jack looked at his
father. “Happy now?” The middle-aged man thundered, and Jack
shrugged.

“Yeah, I think I
am!”

* *
* * *

Paige and Claire
straightened their T-shirts and looked at each other. “Let's hope
this one goes better,” Paige muttered as they approached the pub on
the outskirts of Croydon.

Their attempts at
trying to find a venue where they could play live music was proving
fruitless. The more popular pubs were not interested in a band
doing their first live set, and some of the smaller, niche venues
wanted particular styles of music.

Paige and Claire
felt patronised at their penultimate pub when the owner called them
“schoolkids who want to play” and Paige swore at him, en route to
being ejected from the tiny establishment.

Claire and Paige
strode into the bar more confident than they felt. “Could we see
the manager, or landlord, or whoever?” Claire asked when the
barmaid gave the two teenagers her attention.

“'Ey, you old
'nuff to be in 'ere.”

“Err … yes!” Paige
replied and then had to find her purse to show the barmaid her
photo identification to prove this fact. “We just want to speak to
the landlord.”

She shook her head
and shouted through a doorway at the back of the bar. “Terry!
Terry! Some girls to see ya!”

A bald-headed,
rotund gentleman bustled into the bar and looked at the slim Paige
and curvy Claire smiling unnaturally at him. “What d'ya want? Ya
better not be 'ookers wanting to put ya cards on my noticeboard! I
said no to the last lot.”

Claire and Paige
scoffed. “Do we look like hookers?” Paige looked at her clothes as
Terry gave a muffled apology. “I really need to think about my
dress sense.”

Claire tutted at
her friend. “We would like to play a gig at your pub,” she told
him, and he groaned.

“Not another one.
Look, 'ave you done any locals before, 'cause I ain't see ya?”

“No,” Claire
admitted. “But …”

“I don't do
untried bands. 'Cause what happens is they never turn up, and I
look like a dick. And when they do they can't sing. Good at karaoke
are you?”

“We did meet at a
karaoke competition,” Paige admitted, and he laughed. “But we
aren't bad and …”

“What, your mum
say that? Look, sorry girls, but, it ain't happenin'”

Claire rubbed her
forehead as Paige banged the bar. “Look, all we want is a chance.”
She clicked her fingers at Claire. “Where's that CD?” Claire
rummaged around in her bag and passed her friend a compact disc,
and she tuned to the landlord. “That CD player there, is it playing
this rubbish at the moment?”

“ELO are classic,
my dear.”

“Right, well put
that on, listen to any song for thirty seconds and if you still
think we are crap, we'll sod off.”

“It's my pub, I'll
tell you to sod off now if I want you to go.”

“OK.” Paige took
the only money she had in her purse, putting the five pound note on
the counter. “I bet you five pounds that after listening to one of
our songs you want us to play your pub.”

He looked at the
angry face of Paige and the inquisitive expression from Claire and
snatched the CD from her, loading it into the player behind the
bar. “What track?”

“Any track. There
are nine original songs and three covers.” He pressed RANDOM on the
player and then forward, and the CD jumped forward to Number
Nine.

“Sweet Love?”
Paige asked her friend.

“Girls,” Claire
replied. “You should know it off by heart now.”

“Oh of course.
Written by our third member. Upbeat song!” Terry held his hand out
and listened to the guitar solo at the beginning and Paige's voice
dancing melodiously. He roared with laughter when the lyrics
started suggesting the irrational things “girls do” and looked at
Paige. “He's going through a tough time with women,” she explained,
and the landlord chuckled. He pressed forward again and listened to
I Am Free and then Sweet Love and finally the cover of Bad
Reputation.

“How much are you
selling the CDs for?”

“Five pounds,”
Claire replied, and he opened his wallet and put a ten pound note
on the bar. “I'll keep this. Tuesday 8pm in the room upstairs?”

“I'll check with
Jack,” Claire told him and walked away from the bar with her mobile
phone

“I admit it,
you're not bad,” he conceded to the gloating Paige.

“I said we
weren't.”

“Yeah, it's
different doing live work to recording music in a basement,” he
told her. “It's very different. But I'll give you a go. But I ain't
payin' ya. Ya can make some money flogging ya CD's, but that's
it.”

“Sure,” Paige
agreed as Claire rejoined them.

“Tuesday 8pm is
fine,” she told the landlord and extended her hand over the bar.
“I'll see you in a few days,” she promised and shook Terry's hand
firmly.

“See you on
Tuesday. And don't let me down.”

1. Chapter
   IX
   

“What are you
doing?”

“Designing our
Internet presence,” Claire replied and looked up at Jack. She
pressed a few buttons on her netbook and then shut the lid.
“Thought we could do with one. If we are doing gigs, then we need
an Internet site.”

“Right,” Jack
muttered. “And I bet you want pictures of all of us.”

“Of course.” Jack
hesitated as Claire hummed and she sighed. “Yeah, I know. Your
parents won't like it.”

“Oh they won't
mind me playing music with people, just not naked girls. And
certainly not …”

“Yeah I know.
Paige and me are the wrong social class.” He gave a pained look,
and Claire just shrugged. “I don't know why your parents hate us so
much.”

“Because they
think we shouldn't mix. Dad runs a big factory and most of his
workforce are from …”

“... Our types?”
Claire finished for him as he stumbled to finish his sentence.

“Yeah; I guess so.
And he comes home and every week moans about his employees. And he
wants me to be like him, take over the firm and be like that. But I
can't seem to tell him, I don't want to. He won't listen.” Jack
swirled his coffee in the little deli where Claire was having her
lunch break and shrugged. “I like Paige. I think she's fantastic,
and if Mum and Dad would listen to her singing they would know she
is so talented.”

“She is talented,”
Claire agreed at bit into her sandwich. “Very talented. And she can
do better than me on the guitar to accompany her voice.”

“You are much
better than Ian,” Jack added and looked at Claire. “I saw Ian and
Ellie kissing last night; I drove Lucinda to the supermarket and
they were outside a club. And I felt nothing, didn't even register.
This Bare Necessities has really made me forget about her. About
them.”

Claire stroked the
back of his hand. “Good,” she said with a smile. “Or is it just
seeing me and Paige naked every week?”

Jack laughed. “You
really do not want to know,” he admitted. “But I can't deny that
there is a freedom to making music nude. It's empowering and
liberating and … just better.”

“I know. I'm just
worried about Paige now. She can't go stripping in the pub, and she
needs to get used to singing with her clothes on.”

“She'll be fine,”
Jack said, dismissively. “She's like that. Nothing fazes her, does
it?”

Claire snorted.
“No, that's the problem. But …” She didn't get to finish the
sentence as she was called by the manager, standing over the glass
display; she was at the end of her lunch break, and she waved
goodbye to Jack as she begrudgingly returned behind the counter of
the delicatessen.

“I'll ring you,”
Jack promised and watched as his guitarist returned to her job.

* *
* * *

Andre adjusted his
suit and watched; he had been invited to the filming by the
performers after talking on the telephone, and had been made to
feel welcome by the crew as the “No Holes Barred Gang Bang Crew”
performed a scene for their forthcoming film.