The Bare Necessities (Non-Profane Edition) (15 page)

“Five artists …
all unsigned … doing well on the Internet. YouTube, MySpace, that
sort of thing. I think this one is pretty special – it's a group
called the Bare Necessities and they rock, naked.”

Greg sniffed.
“Why?”

“I don't know,”
Andre replied with a smile. “But I will be seeing them tomorrow so
I can ask. I got the number off a guy who runs a pub they did a set
in. Spoke to one of them. She seemed quite nice.”

“Leave 'em.”

“Leave 'em? But
they are so popular. Listen!” Andre turned the sound on his
computer up to maximum and played Don't Leave Me with Paige's
powerful voice causing his hairs to stand on end. “See.”

“Right, but naked
singers. When was the last naked singer that made number one?”

“But that's the
point. Before Elton John there wasn't gay singers making number
ones, but when he came along there was. And in today's world it
isn't a problem.”

“I can't get
nudity on MTV before the watershed. So promotion is your problem.
And then there are the venues, legal issues. If you see them they
need to know that this will be a problem."

“Maybe, maybe if
we start them off at some niche venues and work our way up,” Andre
suggested. “I think her voice is great and the videos, well they
really seem to be enjoying themselves, and it says here on the
Twitter feed that someone has their album. I think they could be
worth a punt.”

“We need some
solid clients,” Greg told his nephew. “See 'em, but we need some
proper bands. What are the others like?”

“There's some
rockers, here. What do you think?”

Andre skipped onto
the next tab of his browser and Greg nodded. “Play 'em. They look a
better bet.”

* *
* * *

“Paige,” Jack
called as the girl strode up his drive. “Paige!”

“What?” Paige
snapped, and he looked at his fiery friend.

“I'm sorry,” he
muttered. “Look, really I am. I shouldn't have said what I
did.”

“No, you
shouldn't,” Paige thundered.

“But I want us to
continue,” he promised her in a soft, warm voice. “Really I
do.”

“But that means
all of us being naked. We are the Bare Necessities, after all. You
can't have the Bare Necessities with only two of the three bare.
We'd be all wrong.”

“I will be naked.
You are right, I do love the sense of freedom and love recording
those songs. Those weeks really were among the happiest days of my
life, and when we did the set in the pub, all I could think of was
those hours recording our music with you and Claire.” Paige
blinked, and he sighed. “Yeah, I shouldn't be so worried. The
chances that Mum and Dad will come across me naked is so slim I
shouldn't worry, should I? And Harriet is just trying to scare me,
I think. She'll forget about it soon.”

Paige's smile
flickered. “But it shouldn't matter if they do find out. Do you
think that my parents approve of everything I do in my life?” Jack
hummed, and she crossed her arms. “Do you think it's worth it?”

“What?”

“All the trouble
you are getting off Harriet and you having to tiptoe around your
family. Is it worth it?”

Jack nodded as he
thought. “Yes,” he squeaked and cleared his throat. “Umm … yes,
definitely. I think that second gig we did was just incredible. I
keep thinking back to it.”

Paige laughed
coyly. “Glad I'm not the only one. We should go do it again.” Jack
bit his lip and she looked at him. “You do want to do it
again?”

“In a heartbeat,”
he promised her.

“Good! Now Claire
said she wanted to meet me here today. What's going on?”

Jack beamed. “My
parents are in Paris for the weekend, my sister is away to the
villa of her friend's parents. Dorset or something. Lucinda's not
home from her night out but she said she was going to find her
inner drunk, so God knows where she is. So we have the house to
ourselves, and Claire has got a call from a couple of agents that
want to sign us up.”

“Really? And you
want to be signed up by an agent? 'Cause then you might get
recognised by your parents.”

Jack gulped.
“Yeah, that had occurred to me. I sort of reasoned that they would
be less likely to have a problem with it if I had a record deal. A
sort of, look how well I'm doing, don't look at the method, look at
the end result.” Paige grunted derisively. “Yeah, I know. Wishful
thinking maybe, but this is your big chance. And Claire's big
chance. I can't mess that up for you. And, if they find out, I can
handle it. It's not a problem,” he boasted with a nervous quiver to
his voice. “At least I think I can.”

Paige kissed him
on the cheek and held his hand, leading him up to their studio.
Claire was waiting for them and had made drinks for them all,
before showing them the notes she made from the agents that
rang.

While they waited
Jack switched on the radio. “Turn him off,” Claire moaned when the
talk show host came through the speakers.

“Who is it?”

“It's Peter Moran.
The ex-newspaper editor,” Claire moaned. “He just criticises anyone
with any talent.” They listened as he patronised the recent music
awards winner, and moralised over the winner's sexual integrity
before Claire got annoyed and tuned it to another station.

Their first
appointment arrived on time, and the impeccably dressed Nathaniel
Stevenson was retrieved from Jack's drive by Claire and shown into
the little reception room of the studio. Claire gave the
sharp-suited agent a quick tour of the two rooms, and he sat down
on the sofa, putting his file and phone on the table.

“Hey, is that the
new iPhone?” Claire asked, and he nodded.

“Ahh, brilliant,”
he replied. “Cost a fortune, but well worth it. Now, guys to
business. Do you want to be naked now, Paige, 'cause I don't mind?”
Paige shook her head. “Pity, I like redheads.” Paige turned her
nose up at the arrogant gentleman, but he didn't notice and looked
at Claire. “I can see you are the smart one. Now, what I would
suggest we do, is look at your nakedness. Sure, the music's good,
but naked chicks, now that sells. I want to see DVDs and CDs.
Tours. I want to see lesbian action on stage between you and the
redhead. Maybe get some people on stage to …”

“You've missed the
point,” Paige thundered. “I am not naked so people can get their
kicks.”

Nathaniel snorted.
“Yes you are, love.”

“No I am not.”

“Listen love, you
are. I know it, and you know it. Maybe it's a thrill for you. Maybe
it turns you on or gets you all steamy. I don't know. But you are
naked, let's exploit that. It's your signature. And guys want to
see girl-on-girl, and they want to see tongue and plenty of
rumours. We'll have newspaper rumours that you two are planning on
getting married, and the guy here, he gets to watch. We'll call him
the luckiest guy in the land, and …”

“I am finding you
somewhat offensive,” Claire interrupted him.

“Hey, it's just
the way the music business works,” he told her. “Everyone needs
plenty of back story and copy for the gossip columns.” Paige
sniffed. “Your music, yeah, it's good. But it's not enough now. All
the X Factor winners have plenty of back story. You need that
today. It's just the way it works.”

“The way you and
your agents make it work,” she corrected him, and he nodded.

“Yeah, so what?
Anyway, thinking of a sex tape. Nothing moves a celebrity's status
like some dirty filth on camera.”

“And you take a
cut of this?” Paige asked and he just laughed. “So you can buy
brand new phones, like this?” Paige picked up the white mobile
phone, and she threw it up in the air.

“Don't do that,”
he snapped as his facial expression changed and she caught his new
phone.

“Want it?” He
nodded, and she smiled. “Well, I would like you to leave,” Paige
told him. “Because you have only been here for five minutes and you
have offended me, Claire and Jack. So I reckon where this goes,
you'll go.” She smiled sweetly at him, and threw his phone so that
it arced perfectly in the air and sailed out of the open
window.

He stared at her
for a split second as the phone made a crunch on the pavement.
“That's my bloody phone. You dirty filthy lesbo bitch, you'll pay
for that, I'll …” He didn't get to finish the sentence as Jack
picked him up by the scruff of the neck and dragged him down the
corridor before throwing him out of the studio front door.

“Don't talk to
Paige like that,” he yelled and positioned a kick at his rear end
as the agent stumbled down the stairs. “And don't come back.” The
agent hurled some abuse at Jack before picking up his broken phone
and wheel-spinning his car in a hurry.

“Can you believe
that?” Paige asked as Jack returned. “God I hope the other two
don't do that.”

Claire gave a
nervous smile and hesitated. “Well the next one was a bit creepy on
the phone.”

“Oh great. Do we
actually need an agent? I don't even know what they do.”

Claire hummed and
looked at Jack. “Shall we have another go at Cotton Tails? I think
someone needs to calm down,” she said, looking at Paige with a
glare. “Can't believe you did that to his phone!”

Their peace was
shattered half-an-hour later when “Philip T A Fletcher-Smythe” rang
Claire's mobile and she retrieved him from Jack's drive after the
three of them got dressed. Once again, she showed him the studio,
and he snorted in derision.

“Yeah it's a nice
amateur set up,” he told them in his nasally, posh voice and looked
at Paige as he came into the reception room. “You guys are amateur.
But I came to see the star.”

“Pardon?”

“You,” he told
her. “Your songs were good, I liked 'em, but your voice, love.
Ahhh, it's pretty sweet. And I came to get you. I've got a couple
of top notch songwriters who will fight bears to get your voice on
the end of their songs, and I got some cracking guitar players who
could make some serious music.”

“So you want
Paige, and only Paige?” Claire asked, and she looked at Jack. “Well
we know our musical ability is nothing compared to Paige's singing
…”

“I don't like
this,” Paige interrupted. “We started together.”

“But we formed to
give your voice a platform,” Jack told her. “We did this to get to
this moment. We've served our purpose.”

“No,” Paige said
firmly. “You came to see the Bare Necessities not Paige
Simmons.”

“I came to see
you,” he corrected her and in a sanctimonious tone continued. “And
listen, I can take your tracks to half-a-dozen A&R people. Top,
top, people who will listen and I reckon we can get an advance on
an album. Maybe twenty, maybe fifty thou. And you can break free of
this. Your voice needs better and I can give you that. Think of it,
fast cars, luxurious apartment, proper entourage. Jetting around
the world. More money in the bank than an African country. Just
move on. Like a star striker playing for Crystal Palace when
Arsenal come calling. I can make your dreams come true, Paige.”

Paige gulped. “My
voice …” She started and licked her lips as she thought. “It
doesn't work without these two and what they bring. Our music
doesn't work without them.”

He snorted. “Those
songs aren't bad, but they are not Premier League. Your voice,
could be. Really one of the best in the world. With my help.”

Paige laughed. “I
don't think so,” she said firmly.

Phillip
Fletcher-Smythe looked at Jack. “You tell her 'cause that's the
problem with her sort. They're so used to having nothing, they
don't know what they have got.” He gave a forced laugh and
sneered.

Paige smiled
sweetly. “Do you have a phone?” She asked, and he hesitated.

“Why?”

“I'd like to see
it?” Paige replied at the man desperate to charm her and he looked
anxiously at her friends, fidgeting awkwardly.

“Paige, don't do
it. Not again.” Jack put his hand across the agent's body, but
Paige stood up angrily.

“I'm not going to
throw it out of the window, I'm going to take it and stick down his
throat so far that he will be farting the dialling tone for the
rest of his life. And then I am going to kick him in the nuts so
his eyes water and then …”

“Paige,” Claire
cried and put her arm across her angry friend. “A simple 'no'
works, but listen to what he is saying. Your voice is …”

Paige pushed
Claire's arm away and grabbed the suited man by the scruff of his
neck, just as Jack had done earlier in the day, and threw him
towards the door.

“I've come all the
way from Belgravia,” he moaned. “Your friends can see what a good
opportunity this is for you. You need to break free from them.”

“Out!” Paige
yelled. “Get out of my space!”

“It's your choice,
love. But they'll all say the same. Your voice is decent, their
talent isn't and …”

“They are my
friends. We are in a band. We formed to make music. You either sign
all of us or none of us.” She pushed him towards the front door,
and he opened it as the angry singer stood behind him. “If I can't
sing with them, I don't want to sing.”

Jack came up
behind her as she watched the man reverse his car out of the family
drive way as she panted. “I hate people like that. Why …” She
turned around to see pained expressions on Jack and Claire's faces
and she crossed her arms. “What?”

“You should have
thought about it,” Claire told her. “I know I can sing OK, and I
can play the guitar to a reasonable standard, but I am not
exceptional. I might be decent, mediocre or good, but your voice is
incredible. If anyone is going to make it to the top, it's
you.”

“And we will only
slow you down or stop you,” Jack added. “We started recording music
to put your talents down in music and …”

“You're wrong,”
Paige told them both quickly. “Totally wrong. You can play the
guitar, Claire. That guitar solo at the start of Girls is epic, and
Jack, your piano sound on Don't Leave Me. I can't do that, and, if
I can't make it to the top with my friends, I don't want to.”