Playing Along (29 page)

“Unlikely,” George had replied cagily. “She’s a friend. Our directions are extremely different. I’m not sure Fanny’s looking to break new ground right now—she seems to be great just where she’s at.”

“And Thesis
do
want to break new ground?” She had raised a provocative eyebrow.

“Well—we want to explore uncharted territories with this new album. Not a concept album exactly, but more like a book of short stories. Most importantly we don’t want to disappoint our fans.”

“It seems your fans are rarely disappointed. Rumour has it that you’re quite a perfectionist during the recording process.”

George had chuckled. “Is that a polite way of saying control freak?”

“You tell me.”

“It’s hard to know when a song is ready to fly. I suppose it’s a bit like being a parent who doesn’t want to let their kid go to nursery school, so they keep calling it back to tie their laces just one more time.”

“So you’re saying that your songs are like your babies?”

“Of course. I get attached. I think a lot of artists do.”

The journalist had clicked off her recorder at that point.

“Brill. I’ve got some good stuff here and your manager is giving me the hand signals. Thanks, George, and best of luck at the Brits tomorrow.”

They both stood up.

“You and Fanny just friends, huh?” she had said, sliding her recorder back into her bag. “Are you looking for any more friends?”

George had paused for a second. She was pretty fit. Seemed intelligent. She was in the industry, but not too far in. He should have taken her number. Any normal bloke in his position would have.

“We’ve got a Facebook page,” he’d said jokingly, remembering how Lexi’s soft palm had fit neatly in his hand.

“I get it. Well, if you change your mind, here’s where to find me.” She’d pulled a card from her bag and handed it to him.

George looks at the card now and tosses it into an empty kitchen drawer. He rinses out his Oscar the Grouch mug and boils the kettle. The band are being collected at one p.m. and being taken to Earls Court for a final sound check and run-through before tonight’s ceremony. This morning he’s told Gabe he wants to join him to meet with Russell and Lexi at the graphic designer’s office in Paddington. Gabe wants all designs signed off before they go to production and he wants last minute input from Let The Green Times Roll. Having been initially so reluctant, he has now embraced the ethos wholeheartedly.

“Do you think it’s unprofessional if I ask Lexi out?” Gabe had asked George yesterday after the meeting. “She’s not with Russell. I checked. I don’t know why you thought that.”

“Extremely unprofessional,” George had responded quickly. “Don’t even consider it.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re probably right,” Gabe had said, looking downtrodden.

George pours his tea reassuring himself that he should not feel guilty for deterring Gabe. He’s not trying to mislead his friend, but occasionally destiny goes a little off track. George is merely assisting in its redirection.

LEXI
February 16
^th
, 2010
The Metropolitan Hotel, London

Lexi is spinning. The combination of the electricity of a new city, the adrenaline of working and the memory of being very nearly kissed by George Bryce, has left her on a permanent high. She has spoken once to Lance and thanked him for the roses but tried not to linger on the phone, suddenly feeling like she needs a bit of space. “I can’t stop thinking about you, Lexi Jacobs.” Well,
she
can’t stop thinking about George Bryce. It’s not that she has any illusion that something of any substance might possibly happen between them, but the thought that something could, something might, is making her crazy. Lexi gave in and called Meg last night after coming in from a delicious dinner with Russell at a restaurant next to the Thames. Not being able to talk about it with anyone was becoming agony.

“Are you flippin’ kidding?!” Meg had screamed down the phone. “George Bryce tried to kiss you? I’m freaking out right now!”

“Please remain calm. I need you to be calm and think about me for a second. Just breathe. You can do this.”

“Okay. Focus. Focus!” Meg had shouted. “Are you absolutely sure he was going to kiss you?”

“Yes. I’m sure. At least I think I’m sure.”

“And were you going to kiss him back?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t have time to think about it. It just kind of happened, or actually didn’t happen.”

“Okay, Lex,” Meg had said, sounding less hysterical, “I mean you know I would be the first person to say jump his bones, despite being absolutely consumed with envy, but you’ve got Lance now.”

“I’ve got Lance now and he’s wonderful. But maybe I don’t feel as strongly for him as I should?” Lexi had glanced around the room at the wilting roses, making a mental note to call housekeeping and have them removed.

“Lance is a total catch, Lex… you’re just being swayed by the allure of a skinny English rocker with a sexy new beard and a beautiful mind. Who wouldn’t be? But he’s a player, right? He has to be! He’ll probably give you chlamydia and you’ll feel disgusted with yourself afterwards.
And
you’re working with him.
And
you’ve got a boyfriend now who is a total sweetie and you don’t want to jeopardize that. I want to say go for it, I really do. But I just can’t. I’m team Lance all the way. You
can’t
do anything.”

Lexi knew Meg had a point. Not just one point, but many. She’d stayed silent on the other end of the phone. The daisy chain was wilting.

“Sweetie, you’ll just be a disposable item to a guy like George Bryce. Don’t forget what your business is there. It’s all about preservation, not throwing things away.”

Meg can be astoundingly lucid and insightful when the situation calls for it, and Lexi hangs onto those wise words as she gets dressed for this morning’s meetings. She had ducked into Selfridges department store yesterday and picked up a cute black skirt and a pair of ankle boots to wear to the awards ceremony tonight, along with Meg’s purple leather jacket. Lexi already loves London. All the women look so stylish, but not in a plastic, overpriced way. She could imagine living here. Renting a small flat. Walking through the park to work every day. Taking the tube. Wearing knitted hats and gloves in the winter.

Luckily the meeting this morning is only with Russell and Gabe and the graphic designer. That’s fine with her. She needs to stay well out of temptation’s way. George will be so busy tonight, he’s bound to hardly notice her at all.

GEORGE
16
^th
February, 2010
Paddington, London, 10:00 a.m.

LEXI
February 16
^th
, 2010
Paddington, London, 10:00 a.m.

There are about ten of them packed into the lift. George had been standing right next to Lexi but a group of businessmen crowded on at the second floor and he was jostled into the opposite corner. The suits are debriefing a meeting they must have just had and Russell is explaining to Gabe the perils of petroleum. George can’t even catch Lexi’s eye.

The big guy behind Lexi keeps jabbing her with his elbow as he gesticulates to his colleague. His cologne is overbearing and every time he inadvertently touches her, she tenses up. It’s not as if she isn’t tense already since coming face to face with George in the lobby, who was not scheduled to be at this meeting. His hair was slightly damp and it took everything in her power to stop herself from imagining him in the shower.

George follows the numbers moving up. Their appointment is on the fifteenth floor and the businessmen have pressed 14. One of them suddenly says, “Crikey, forgot I was supposed to deliver the portfolio to Morton. I need to get off at 10.” Lexi is standing near the front. When the doors of the tenth floor open, she steps out to let the man through. Another woman squeezes on.

Lexi is plotting various strategies in her head to avoid being too close to George. She must not sit next to him in the meeting. She must direct all of her attention to Gabe. It is a relief when they arrive on the tenth floor and she has to step off the elevator for a moment to let the guy out. Another woman darts in front of her and the doors start to close. Lexi presses the button on the wall, but the doors keep closing. “I’ll see you up there,” she calls through the gap, quite content not to squash back into the airless space.

It happens so fast that he doesn’t even think about it. It’s as if something instinctual propels him forward just as the lift doors are closing. George pushes his way through the narrowing gap, like fleeing the jaws of a snapping crocodile, he gets out just in time. Lexi is looking at him with her mouth partially open and a questioning look in her eyes. He clears his throat, “Couldn’t stay… get claustrophobic…”

Lexi is stupefied. How has this happened again? Running from temptation has never been so impossible. Usually she just shoves the chocolate chunk cookies into the cupboard behind the pasta strainer. George is tenacious. He must be one of those types that need a challenge. He can challenge himself elsewhere. She is
not
going to be his disposable paper bag.

“Couldn’t stay… get claustrophobic…” he says comically, and she tries not to smile.

“I don’t need an escort, you know.”

George nods, “Honestly, that bloke’s aftershave was killing me.”

“Old Spice?” She really shouldn’t even be engaging him in banter, in fact she should just tell him right now that she has a boyfriend.

“Very Old Spice,” he responds. Lexi presses the button to call the elevator again. The two of them stand next to each other in the windowless hallway.
This is it
, George tells himself,
You probably have one minute. One minute to finish what you started
.
One minute, Third Row, Destination in the Middle
—the songs for the new album are lining themselves up one after another and it’s as if everything is crystallizing in this single moment. He stops thinking. He moves towards her. Here it is. His kiss.

He’s getting closer. She could move away. She s
hould
move away, but every cell in her body is tingling, anticipating his lips. When their mouths finally touch, the kiss is soft and tender and deliciously deliberate. He tastes like mint and his beard is slightly scratchy against her chin. His hand slides around her lower back and she forsakes every resolution she has ever made. Ever.

It is so freeing not to be thinking and just to be kissing. At last. This kiss is like his music translated into action. For all the love songs he has ever written—he himself has felt so little love. For all the hearts he is responsible for making throb—his own heart has stayed so still. Until now. George could kiss Lexi forever. And ever.

Neither of them can say who pulls away first. Lexi feels completely unbuttoned, despite remaining fully clothed. George smiles triumphantly, “I’ve been meaning to do that for a long time,” he says, still close, almost whispering.

“You have? How long?” She flashes back to the concert at the Avid. Remembers him on stage. Staring.

“Really, really long,” he says, and this time Lexi knows she
can
read something into the two reallys.

GEORGE
16
^th
February, 2010
Earls Court, London, 4:00 p.m.

George is sure that tonight’s performance will be a standout one. The venue is crawling with people setting up and preparing for the most high-profile music awards ceremony in the UK. Adrian Carter, one of the event organizers, seems surprisingly cool and collected as he shows the band to their dressing area. “You’re on for your final rehearsal in thirty minutes. In the meantime, please do let us know if there is anything you need.” What could George possibly need, now that he has the memory of kissing Lexi to carry everywhere with him like a secret charm?

Earlier that day, when the doors had opened, George and Lexi had stepped back into another lift, this time with only a few people in it. He’d held her hand tightly for the next five floors and reluctantly let go, just as they reached the fifteenth floor.

Gabe and Russell were waiting.

“What happened to you?” asked Gabe.

“Nothing,” said George. “It felt as if there was about to be a situation in there.” Little did they know that there
was
a situation soon after. The most blissful situation George could imagine.

“Yes, it was getting a little cramped, wasn’t it?” said Russell. “I find in those circumstances, hatha yoga breathing helps.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” George had said.

After the meeting, as they said goodbye, he’d mouthed “talk later” but he wasn’t sure she’d understood. What now? She’s going back to LA. He’s here with a million commitments and then they’re starting their tour. He’d tried calling her hotel that afternoon, but no one had picked up. He’ll just have to wait until he sees her to get her phone number. This feeling he has, this feeling like some wild and extravagant blossom is unfurling deep inside of him, surely she must be feeling it too?

LEXI
February 16
^th
, 2010
Metropolitan Hotel, London, 4:00 p.m.

Lexi left Russell an hour ago at the Science museum, mesmerized by an exhibit on renewable energies. She’s stopped at Selfridges again to buy a smoky grey eye shadow and a lipstick called ‘dare me’. She can’t make any sense of what has happened today, only that in the hours since George has kissed her, she feels ridiculously alive. And all she wants is more.

GEORGE
16
^th
February, 2010
Earls Court, London, 4:15 p.m.

Simon comes up to George and puts his arm around him. “I just wanted to say thank you mate, for being so supportive of my relationship with Stacey. I know you two didn’t get off to the best of starts, but she likes you and she’s agreeing to a clean slate. Come on, she knows it’s you and you only for Best Man—you’ll do it, won’t you?” First Polly’s bloody second wedding and now Simon marrying Scary Stacey and they all seem to want George on the sidelines cheering them on. Anyway, things will be different now. Lexi will be with him. He won’t be alone.

“I can’t leave it to Duncan, can I, mate? I’ll do it—just don’t make me wear a penguin suit.”