Playing Along (24 page)

He’d broken the news to Duncan about Amelia that morning, when Duncan had slunk into George’s bedroom looking sheepish.

“Fuckin’ hell! A Grapefruit Girl? Why didn’t you tell me before? That’s legendary, man.”

“Do you have no discretion?” George had asked, “you
did
know she was my sister’s married best friend?”

Duncan had looked unfazed. “Discretion? Never heard of it, mate.”

George had shook his head. Really, who can blame Duncan for wanting to rebel in such a suffocating environment?

And now the two of them are perched on the edge of the beige chintz settee listening to the cacophony that is the boys’ performance. It might be worth it for the smile on Trevor’s face though. Archie and Padstow look mostly bored.

When the song comes to an end, Duncan stands up, clapping and hollering. His red paper crown flutters off his head and lands on the floor.

“You aced it, dudes! I knew you were going to put us out of business.” The three boys beam and Polly looks over at George, and for a second she actually appears a bit vulnerable. Her usual smug expression is replaced with a searching stare, as if she’s asking for his approval. George continues the applause, “Future
X Factor
winners. Simon Cowell better watch out,” he says.

“That’s just what I told Martyn,” exclaims Polly, back to her familiar self-satisfied tone.

Later in the afternoon, George and Duncan throw their bags in the boot of the car and say their goodbyes. Trevor has glued himself to George’s side. Before he closes the car door, George leans down and says, “Hey Trev, maybe when you’re a bit older, I’ll get your mum and dad to bring you and your brothers to one of our shows?” Trevor’s eyes widen, “When I’m five?”

“Yes, when you’re five.”

“Yessss!” says Trevor punching the air with a grubby fist.

As George drives away, Polly and the boys waving them off, he turns to Duncan. “So…” says George, “Amelia tells me she gives the best blow jobs north of Banbury.”

“I’ve had better,” says Duncan with a straight face, “south of Banbury.”

The two friends laugh as the car accelerates and his parents’ cottage shrinks in his rearview mirror.

LEXI
December 31
^st
, 2009
West Hollywood, Los Angeles

New Year’s Eve. The most overrated night of the entire year. It never improves. Even in her heyday, when Lexi was the most sought-after girl in school, New Year’s Eve was always a disappointment. Andrew inevitably got so drunk he could hardly talk and midnight came and went with a ridiculously wet kiss, which felt more like a lick from a basset hound. Not that she’d ever been licked by a basset hound, but she’d always had a good imagination. She’s already decided to do absolutely nothing tonight. No parties. No champagne. No sequins. No Dick Clark. She’s going to get into bed at 10:30 and wake up ready to face the new year. New job. Possibly a new man. New Year’s resolutions (cut out sugar, only use reuseable water bottles, cardio three times a week, read more)—perhaps she should even think about moving? Wasn’t it time to separate from Andrew again? Lexi ponders all of this as she sits in a café in West Hollywood with Andrew and Carl, eating eggs over easy and hash browns. Her phone vibrates in her purse and she dives to find it.

“Must be lover boy for the third time in the last half hour,” says Carl. “Obviously he just can’t get enough of you, Ms. Jacobs!” Lexi smiles. The day after Christmas, Lance had left for a trip to San Francisco to visit his parents with Johnnie. He’s not due back until tomorrow, but he’s been texting daily and called once. They’d only talked for a few minutes, but he’d been extremely charming and persuaded Lexi that they should go out on a date the night he returned. She hadn’t needed much persuading. His latest text says “Very much looking forward to the new year. Especially tomorrow night…”

“What’s he saying now?” asks Carl, who is already like part of the family. Lexi holds her phone protectively to her chest, “None of your business.”

“Come on, don’t be so coy. We know he wants your body.”

“Maybe so, but I’m still not telling you.”

“Oh, I just love the first few weeks of a new romance,” says Andrew nostalgically.

“That was us only like a month ago,” says Carl, scooping a spoonful of scrambled egg from Andrew’s plate.

“Was it only a month? It feels like a lifetime.” Carl hits him playfully with his napkin. “A lifetime of love which I wouldn’t trade for the world,” says Andrew, leaning in and kissing Carl’s cheek.

“Get a room, will you?” says Lexi, realizing that both Andrew and Russell seem to have met their soul mates on the very same night, while she’s spent the past month as a voyeur of two of the sweetest budding romances. It was enough to make anyone ill. No wonder she had resorted to believing that George Bryce had locked eyes with her. Desperate tactics in desperate times. But now everything was going to change.

Carl had filled in a lot of the blanks about Lance. He was a structural engineer. Thirty-five years old. Never been married.

“I don’t know what you did that night, Lexi, but Johnnie says Lance is completely smitten by you.”

“Smitten!” exclaims Andrew. “Who wouldn’t love a man who uses the word smitten?”

Lexi isn’t sure what she did either, thanks to the cocktails coloring the entire evening in a misty green stupor, but she’s sure she was fabulous and all arrows are pointing to Lance being fabulous too. Who cares about being alone on New Year’s Eve? She is transitioning into a capable, independent career woman, who just might have met a very suitable, mature, self-assured man. Alone is the new together. It’s her own choice. For the first time in a while, she feels completely on top of things.

GEORGE
31
^st
December, 2009
Soho, London

New Year’s Eve. The most overrated night of the entire year. It never improves. Endless kissless midnights as a teenager. It really shouldn’t be allowed. One night imbued with the expectations of a thousand birthdays. Someone should make it illegal. The band are performing on the Jules Holland special tonight and George is hoping to play straight through from one year to the next. Bring it on. Where can Thesis go this year? Every year he reckons the dream can’t get any bigger, but it always does. Thinking about the band’s success is mind-boggling. It’s like not only buying a winning lottery ticket once, but then buying one again and again and again. Only to find yourself surrounded by cash and wondering why you still feel needy.

George is sitting in a bar in Soho with Simon and Stacey and Mark and Anna. Is there such thing as a fifth wheel? If there is—he’s feeling it. Stacey has been suctioned to Simon ever since they got together in Vegas. He was never worried about the Yoko effect with Anna, she sits back and lets the boys do their thing, but Stacey could be a problem. George picks up his beer. It’s 5:00 p.m. and the party’s started early.

“George, are you listening to me?” asks Stacey. She has a loud nasal voice.

“Sorry, Stacey, what was it you were saying?” George is pretending not to hear her. “Loud in here, isn’t it?”

She rolls her eyes, “Like you’re not used to noise!”

“What?” he cups his hand to his ear innocently.

“I was saying that I’ve been telling Simon my ideas for styling you guys. I mean you’re not college kids anymore, you could be totally updating your look.” George turns to Simon, who instead of jumping in and defending the unpretentious ethos of the band, is staring at Stacey with an idiotic grin. His usually unkempt red hair has been slathered in gel and looks like an ice sculpture.

“Have you been styling Simon?” he asks sarcastically.

Stacey strokes the underside of Simon’s chin, which is beginning to show a thatch of red stubble. “As a matter of fact I have. We’re working on a goatee, aren’t we, babe?”

“Yes, we are,” says Simon compliantly.

“Mate, it looks like you have a swan on your head, and a ginger fucking swan at that.”

“Oh, you’re funny, George,” says Stacey bitchily as she turns to Simon and kisses his nose. As loud as it is in the bar, George swears he hears her say, “No wonder he can’t get a girlfriend. He’s so uptight.”

It never fails to astound him how quickly the feelings come rushing back. One damn comment, a sideways glance, a tone of voice, and it’s like some bloody trapdoor opens and he’s sliding down into the thorny abyss, fifteen years old, feeling like shit. How much more successful does he have to get in order to keep that door padlocked shut? Why does he care what a girl like Stacey thinks of him?

George stands up and leaves the table. He has that urge again to be in open space, to run away. Simon follows after him and grabs his arm. “Come on, George, ease up. She’s just trying to be helpful.” They push through a crowd of young Londoners, drinking early, every one of them wanting to put something behind them and start afresh. Some of them recognize George and Simon and nudge their friends, or do a double take, or just outright stare. George keeps moving through the crowd until they are outside. The early evening air feels sharp and cold. He leans against a brick wall to avoid the throng of people coming in and out.

“I’m fine, mate, you didn’t have to follow me. Just needed some space is all.” George knows that he and Simon are overdue a conversation since LA, but now is not the time.

“George, it’s me you’re talking to. I know you’re not fine.” George isn’t sure how to respond.

“Sim, honestly. It’s all good. You know, New Year’s Eve—it’s never been my favourite time of year. I should be writing. I’ve got a lot in my head.”

“George, look, I get it. Stacey and I have been talking about it. It must be very difficult for you having to see me with her.”

“What do you mean?” George is incredulous. Is Simon joking?

“Look, mate—it’s okay. She told me about what happened in the make-up trailer in Las Vegas. She’s cool with it now, but she just wants you to be too.” George’s head is swirling. What happened? She was the one who kept positioning her tits so they were right in front of his face. She told him he had eyelashes like Brandon Flowers. He just smiled.

“Nothing happened!”

“Yeah, but she says it was obvious you were into her. I mean let’s face it, who wouldn’t be—she’s awesome. But she chose me and now you’re struggling with that. Clearly.”

“I’m not struggling.”

“You know me better than anyone, right?”

“I thought I did.”

“Well, I think this is it, George. I know it’s only been a few weeks but I think Stace is the woman for me.”

“THE woman?” George is appalled. This is catastrophic. Stacey could destroy them if she had her way. “I thought you said you didn’t believe in that stuff?”

“I didn’t. Until I met her,” says Simon, starry-eyed. “I’m done with spending my time on sandwiches. Us, you and me, the band, we’ll always be everything but I need more.”

George is trying to take it all in. Isn’t this what he’s been wanting as well? Why else has he been weaving a future in his imagination with Lexi? So why does he feel so angry with Simon? So abandoned? As aggravating as Stacey might be, at least she’s here. Lexi is still really just a figment in his mind. A projection of what he hopes for. In reality she might end up being as irritating as Stacey. She might have bad breath. She might laugh like a horse.

A young guy with an earring and thin twitchy lips approaches them.

“You guys are sick. I saw you in November and I met my girlfriend at the gig. I owe you one, can I buy you a beer?”

Simon looks up, “Cheers, mate—we’re good. Thanks for the support though and glad we could be of service.”
That’s just great
thinks George
I’m making it happen for everyone but me
.

Another guy stumbles over. He has a tattoo on his neck and thick black glasses. “I know you twats,” he blurts out, pointing an accusing finger at them both. “You’re a bloody fucking joke! Call yourself musicians? You should be ashamed of the mediocre shit you force us to listen to.”

Idolized in one moment and stabbed in the throat the next. George is just grateful Duncan isn’t there, or else this idiot would be on the ground with a mad Australian fogging up his lenses. Simon smiles, “No one’s forcing you to listen to us. Turn over.”

“I’ll bloody well turn you over, you posh wanker!” The lunatic lurches forward but fortunately twitchy lip guy steps between them and George and Simon inch back towards the door of the bar. They are confronted by Stacey, pushing her way out, looking worried.

“There you are. I missed you, babe,” Stacey leans in protectively to Simon and he rubs his hand over her bum.

“I missed you too, babe-a-licious.”

George feels wretched. He hasn’t said anything to Simon to try and deter him. Maybe it’s best. Let people go their own way and make their own mistakes, right? But this isn’t just any mistake. This could affect him and the future of the whole band. On the other hand, if he says something he risks alienating himself even more from his best mate. Stacey already has a tight hold. He needs advice. It’s usually Simon he turns to. He knows exactly what Duncan will say. Mark most likely approves, and Gabe, forever the diplomat, never likes to take sides. George wishes he had someone objective to ask. Someone like Lexi. He can see it now, calming him down, making him tea, kissing him gently. George looks around him. Strangers are closing in on him again as the pavement outside gets busier. He feels trapped. Imagining Lexi just isn’t doing the trick anymore. He needs to find out who she really is and he needs to do it soon.

LEXI
January 15
^th
, 2010
Tree People Park, Los Angeles

Lexi is at the Tree People park, an environmental nonprofit organization in the Santa Monica mountains, promoting healing cities through sustainability. Russell is running a workshop for fifth graders on fashion recycling and trash to toys. He is standing on a bench carved out of a tree trunk, modeling some of his ponchos made from used aluminum foil and discarded single socks. Mildred is commanding a small camera crew with authority, as she is considering giving Let The Green Times Roll a weekly spot on
Wake Up LA
. It’s a good thing that Lexi went to bed early on New Year’s Eve, because over the last two weeks she’s hardly slept at all. Between dates with Lance and the momentum at work picking up at a rapid pace (it seems that the new year is inspiring lots of people to turn over a new leaf, literally, and go green), things have been a little hectic. Three days ago there was a massive earthquake in Haiti devastating much of the country, and along with thousands of helpless others, she has been glued to CNN.