Playing Along (35 page)

We’ve been discovered

But I’m still wanting to be found

While these nights spin round and round

House lights up and down

Different stage in every town

Lookin’ for the light in the crowd

Tryin’ to be heard in a world full of loud

Correct me if I’m wrong,

you’ve been waiting for this song,

so love before you go, it’s time I told you so

I’m not searching for the exit

need the entrance now

Buy me a ticket, find me a seat

next to you I will feel complete

Third time lucky, running, crying, shining

Your face on the screen, wondered where you’d been

You had my heart and you didn’t even know

Holding my heart in the third, third row

Life takes us

twirls us around

searching for someone

We wait to be found

Spinning around, round, round

Third time lucky, running, crying, shining

Your face on the screen, wondered where you’d been

You had my heart and you didn’t even know

Holding my heart in the third, third row

Lights up brighter I can see who sees me

now my lucky number’s three

seen those eyes before

I want to know more, want to know more, know more

One, two, three

Come to me

Come to me

Come to me

When the song finishes and the audience are on their feet shrieking, Russell looks at Mildred and at Lexi, who is trying unsuccessfully to conceal her tears. She has stopped trying to fight it and has officially become a crier.

“Oooh, I wonder who the mystery lady is?” he asks inquisitively. Mildred rolls her eyes at her husband and pulls Lexi in for a hug, “You dippy dodo—the mystery lady is right here!”

GEORGE
4
^th
September, 2010
Backstage Hollywood Bowl, Los Angeles

Singing “Third Row” to a stadium full of thousands has left George hovering in a state somewhere between exhausted and elated. There is always a loss when they perform a new song for the first time. Like a painter selling a treasured canvas, they are giving up a piece of themselves to the audience and it never truly belongs just to them again.

He had dreamt of that moment. Dreamt of giving “Third Row” to Lexi. Releasing it into the atmosphere like an unexpected gift. He cannot avoid feeling deflated, despite the celebrations sparking off around him. The backstage after party is revving up as he walks into the room. A small group of LA girls in skinny jeans and tight tank tops with breasts that put the Grapefruit girls to shame, are crowded around Duncan,
oohhing
and
ahhhing
over a video of Sabine that Fanny has sent to his iPhone. He has already insisted George watch it four times that day. Duncan’s grin is contagious, but George wishes he were still under the cool stream of the shower—his refuge directly after a show.

Of all the people he doesn’t want to see, Stacey is suddenly next to him holding a bottle of beer.

“You’re not drinking, George?”

“Not yet.”

“The show was awesome tonight.”

“Even though you don’t approve of our outfits?”

“I’m working on it. I’ve got my sights set on the next tour,” quips Stacey, who is wearing a Thesis t-shirt bedazzled with red sequins.

“I wish you were joking.”

“You know me, I like a project. You’ll come around eventually.”

“Unlikely,” says George, hesitant to be bombarded by the overflow of enthusiasts and so-called Hollywood actors who come to the LA shows, most of whom he doesn’t recognize. He’s about to excuse himself from Stacey, when he sees Gabe heading towards him followed by Russell and a tall woman with a silver bob and long black dress. He peers beyond them hopefully.

“George—look who I found dancing in the aisles,” says Gabe, subtly shaking his head, indicating to George that, no, Lexi is not with them.

George clasps Russell’s hand, “Russell—what a pleasure, mate. We’re so glad you could come along.”

Russell looks flustered, “I told Gabriel that we didn’t need to bother you, George, but he insisted. The concert was tremendous. Can I take a moment to introduce you to my lovely wife, Mildred.”

“Of course,” says George, turning to Mildred, “great to meet you.”

“Delighted, George. Russell speaks glowingly,” says Mildred, shaking his hand and gazing at him intently. “I believe you are looking for someone?”

George is confused. He’s never met this woman before but she’s staring right into him, as if she knows his deepest thoughts.

“Looking for someone?” he repeats.

“In the third row?”

George falters, “Do you mean? Is she?”

“Still there? Yes. But maybe not for long so I suggest you—” before Mildred can complete her sentence, George has disappeared.

LEXI and GEORGE
September 4
^th
, 2010, 4
^th
September, 2010
Hollywood Bowl, Los Angeles

Lexi sits watching a gang of burly roadies pack up the equipment, hauling amplifiers and long coils of electrical wire noisily off the stage. When the concert had finished and the audience were filing out, Mildred and Russell had both turned to her expectantly. “You’re coming backstage with us, my dear,” instructed Mildred, sounding like an officious school teacher. “Don’t even think about walking away.”

Lexi hadn’t known what to think. The song had peeled back another layer and she had instantly lost her nerve. George
had
seen her the night of the concert. She hadn’t invented it. He must have recognized her on the TV segment and that’s how Thesis had ended up as clients. They have both been holding onto the idea of each other for the same amount of time. The thought is overwhelming.

“Mildred. I can’t. I won’t know what to say.”

“If his song is anything to go by, dear girl, you won’t have to do much talking.”

“Mildred, my darling,” said Russell, tugging insistently on the sleeve of her caftan. “I understand you are trying to help, but while George seems a very decent young man, it came to our attention in London that he is somewhat of a philanderer…”

“Nobody’s perfect, Russell. Lexi knows that. Do we want her to wait as long as we did, or shall we encourage her to have a crack at true love now?”

“I see your point,” said Russell. “Of course.”

“The boy is obviously besotted by her. Let’s give him the chance to discover that his fantasy is not so far off from the real thing.”

But Lexi had remained cemented to her seat, incapable of complying, terrified that both of their fantasies would never compare. What was she to do? Run backstage and fall into his arms? It was never that simple. She knew that now.

Mildred and Russell had stood over her expectantly, until Mildred, accustomed to dealing with production glitches on a daily basis, had kicked into plan B.

“Okay, Lexi, have it your way. Stay here. In fact go and sit right there,” she had pointed towards the front of the bowl and her finger landed on the third row. “Russell and I are going backstage!” Before Lexi could protest, Russell and Mildred had joined the last remnants of the crowd jostling their way to the exits. She spotted Mildred talking to one of the security guards and pointing in her direction. She’d stood then, knees like elastic, and headed to the third row.

Lexi hangs her head back and stares up at the starry sky, breathing in the immenseness of the moment. It seems that while she’s been busy trying to organize her life, some kind of mystical serendipity has been at work, orchestrating alternate plans. Messier ones. She’s remembering her clothes from The Brits discarded in a pile on the floor, crumpled and twisted. She doesn’t notice George appear from the side of the stage. She doesn’t even see as he swings himself down from the front, dismounting his usual pedestal and landing with two feet on the ground.

When she eventually looks up, he pulls a scrap of paper from the back pocket of his jeans and pretends to be examining it. Lexi feels a rush of blood to her head seeing him this close again.

“Third row, right? If I’m not mistaken, that’s the seat I’m supposed to be in.” George gestures to the chair beside her.

“You’d better sit down then. They’ll be on soon,” says Lexi, feigning indifference and crossing her legs. She can hear her heart buffeting.

George makes his way to the third row and settles in next to her, turning his head to take in an overview of the empty stadium. To think of all the hours he has wasted in the months since he was last in LA allowing his imagination to hijack reality. Looking back, he had barely spoken to Lexi for more than ten minutes combined before he had already mapped out their future. He had mistaken coincidence for destiny. Life was never quite so eloquent. But now that he is sitting next to her again, there is no mistaking the unspoken chemistry between them—the inexplicable charge and curiosity that had first fused inside him the day he ran by her.

“You seen these guys before?” he says nonchalantly. “They any good?”

“Yeah—they’re not bad. I’ve seen them once before. I was dragged by a friend. The lead singer’s kinda sexy, in a British sort of way.”

George laughs, “You think? I’ve heard he’s a right moody bugger.”

“Probably that too—no doubt a full-fledged narcissist. You know how musicians can be?” says Lexi, turning to look at his profile for the first time. He has a slight bump on the bridge of his nose that she hasn’t noticed before. A lot has changed since they last saw each other, but not her urge to reach out to him. To touch him.

“Absolutely. Best to steer well clear of them,” says George.

“I guess he was really disappointed when he found out that one of his best friends was sleeping with his girlfriend. You must have read about it?” asks Lexi conspiratorially. “It turns out the baby wasn’t even his.”

“I did hear something about that,” says George, playing along, “but maybe we were reading different articles. I read that she
wasn’t
his girlfriend. She never had been. The big disappointment came when he discovered the woman he was falling in love with was actually planning to get married to another man, but had conveniently neglected to tell him. I heard the poor sod didn’t eat for weeks.”

Lexi swallows hard so she can keep speaking. “Juicy! But you must have missed the second instalment. That woman was never engaged.”

“She wasn’t?”

“She was asked. But she said no.”

George reaches over and takes Lexi’s hand. He laces his fingers into hers.

“She said no?” he says with a smile in his voice.

“Yes, she did. She was falling in love with the lead singer as well.” Just hearing herself speak the words fills her with nervous anticipation.

“Other people’s lives, huh?” says George, finally turning to Lexi. He lifts her hand and presses the back of it to his lips, planting a cluster of delicate kisses all the way to her wrist, sending a ripple of shivers down her spine. Her skin is smooth against his mouth. Without letting go of her hand he leans in and touches his lips to hers and the memory of their first kiss is eclipsed within seconds. This second kiss, under the stars, all the more precious because both of them had imagined it might never happen again, is sweet and warm and urgent. George cups his free hand to Lexi’s cheek and when they separate, they immediately are drawn back together again, kissing each other with a slowness and passion that is an entirely new sensation for them both.

One of the roadies on the stage wolf whistles and Lexi and George pull apart laughing. George waves.

“What d’ya reckon?” he says. “These idiots have kept us waiting long enough. Shall we go and get a drink? I think we could do with getting to know each other. Properly.” He holds tightly to Lexi’s hand. This time around he has no intention of allowing her to slip away.

“I think you might be right,” says Lexi, who is more than prepared to live with the mess, and with the sparkling spirals, leaping back to life above her head. “I can catch their show another time.”

“Don’t bother,” says George, pulling her up from the seat and towards him. “I bet they’re totally overrated.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” says Lexi, quietly confident that her verdict is already in.

GEORGE
4
^th
September, 2010
Backstage Hollywood Bowl, Los Angeles

Singing “Third Row” to a stadium full of thousands has left George hovering in a state somewhere between exhausted and elated. There is always a loss when they perform a new song for the first time. Like a painter selling a treasured canvas, they are giving up a piece of themselves to the audience and it never truly belongs just to them again.

He had dreamt of that moment. Dreamt of giving “Third Row” to Lexi. Releasing it into the atmosphere like an unexpected gift. He cannot avoid feeling deflated, despite the celebrations sparking off around him. The backstage after party is revving up as he walks into the room. A small group of LA girls in skinny jeans and tight tank tops with breasts that put the Grapefruit girls to shame, are crowded around Duncan,
oohhing
and
ahhhing
over a video of Sabine that Fanny has sent to his iPhone. He has already insisted George watch it four times that day. Duncan’s grin is contagious, but George wishes he were still under the cool stream of the shower—his refuge directly after a show.

Of all the people he doesn’t want to see, Stacey is suddenly next to him holding a bottle of beer.

“You’re not drinking, George?”

“Not yet.”

“The show was awesome tonight.”

“Even though you don’t approve of our outfits?”

“I’m working on it. I’ve got my sights set on the next tour,” quips Stacey, who is wearing a Thesis t-shirt bedazzled with red sequins.

“I wish you were joking.”

“You know me, I like a project. You’ll come around eventually.”