Trust Me (Beggar's Choice #2) (12 page)

“No,” I say coldly and he goes
back to shake hands with the boys and then makes his way off the bus without
bothering to shake mine.

Charlie comes up beside me. “Is anyone
helping Nell?” he asks, giving me a searching look.

“No need,” I say coldly, turning
away. “She can stay on the other bus. It’s better that way.”

“Are you sure?” He sounds
confused.

“Oh yes,” I say in a dead voice.
“It’s better all-round if she’s not with us.”

Nell

A week later I lie in my little
bunk feeling my body sway with the movement of the bus as we speed through the
night on the way to Hamburg to play the next gig. We’ve just played Berlin and
like all the gigs so far it’s been brilliant with an amazing atmosphere. All
the venues that we’ve played have been great, and we’ve played in some
fantastically over the top theatres and old clubs so Scott is definitely
earning his money. The tour has been sold out for ages and the fans have been
going mad over the new stuff. The album is riding at number one for the second
week, and the first single is also at number one.

The only blot on my horizon is
Sid, and he makes my heart hurt despite my best efforts. I suppose he’s kept to
his agreement to be civil, but it’s only in the broadest sense of the word
because what he is, is cold. He’s completely shut off from me, and no
conversational overture that I try manages to thaw him. He replies when I talk
to him and speaks to me about the gigs and arrangements, but that’s it and it
hurts. It makes his previous distance look like over the top niceness.

The other boys are as welcoming
and funny as ever and our bond gets stronger all the time, but even they seem
puzzled by him. All except Charlie, and he just seems watchful. Mind you, he’s
been a bit distracted himself because Mabe hasn’t been here. She flies back and
forwards to see him but doesn’t stay all the time and when she’s gone he seems
a bit lost for such a big character. I like it when she’s here too, not just
because she’s become a good friend and it’s lovely to have another girl, but
also because I love to see Sid’s face around her. He’s open and warm with her,
and he loses the guarded hostility that he shows me and becomes the man that
I’m sure he really is.

I shiver violently bringing me
back to my senses. Tour buses are terrible to sleep on at night. The air
conditioning is always on and it’s always freezing. I brought warm sleepwear
with me and a hot water bottle, but nothing seems to warm me up on this bus. I
wonder if it might be due to the fact that I’m very thin now compared to when I
last toured. There’s hardly anything on me and I always feel cold anyway. I
nestle deeper into the duvet but suddenly the bus slows down and I brace myself
as it begins to turn. Giving up on sleep I thrust my feet out of my bunk
searching for my Converse, and then make my way down the bus allowing my body
to sway with the movement rather than trying to fight it. Coming up to Dave the
driver I pat him on the shoulder. “What’s happening?” I call above the noise of
the engine and he chuckles.

“We’ve got to go back to the
service station that we stopped at for petrol.”

“Why?”

He starts laughing. “The boys’
bus left Bram behind.”

I laugh out loud. “How is that
even possible? He’s so
loud
.”

“The twat got off the bus to get
cigarettes and forgot to tell Pete so of course he just set off.” This is said
very affectionately. I’ve noticed that all the men on this tour get on really
well with the band. The boys treat everyone who works with them like they’re
mates rather than employees.

“Why are
we
going back
though?”

“The other bus is quite far ahead
of us and Bram’s on his own with no security.”

“Are they worried?” I ask,
surprised. “Is he in any danger?”

“Nah, Bram can handle himself.
It’s just Paul fretting.” Paul is the head of security and a lovely bloke but
very intense about his job, which thinking about it must be a total nightmare
because all the boys do exactly what they want regardless of any consequences.

We pull into the brightly lit
forecourt of the service station but there’s no sign of Bram, and Dave
hesitates. “Do you want me to look for him?” I ask, seeing his dilemma because
as a coach we’re not supposed to park here.

He looks uneasy. “I don’t know
about that Nell. It’s late at night and there’s no one around. I don’t like the
idea of you wandering around on your own.”

“There’s always someone around in
service stations.” I bend down to tie the laces on my Converse. “I’ll be fine.
I’ve been in too many of these places in the middle of the night to be
bothered. Shall we meet you back at the coach park?” He nods and releases the
lock on the door which opens with a pneumatic wheeze. Stepping out into the
frigid coldness I shiver and walk quickly to the doors. Once inside I cast my
eyes around. Typically there are a few people around – tired looking truckers
dosing up on caffeine and even a family, the children’s faces creased with
sleep, but no Bram. I work my way around to the toilets with still no sign of
him, and then I spot the back entrance which must lead to the coach park.

Taking a chance I stick my head
around the door wincing at the coldness and then smile triumphantly as I see
his unmistakable figure leaning against the wall sheltering from the wind. He’s
tapping away on his phone his face very serious, and I hesitate because he
looks troubled and completely unlike his normal self. However, the squeak of
the door alerts him to my presence and looking up he smiles and shoves his
phone back in his pocket. He’s wearing a pair of plaid pyjama shorts teamed
with a bulky hoody and a pair of disreputable looking Converse.

“Nelly!” he exclaims in delight
and I sigh.

“Really?”

“Yes really.” He swings me around
before dropping me and ruffling my hair. We seem to have settled into a brother
and sister relationship and he enjoys playing the irritating sibling. I love it
because it reminds me of the way that Sam and I used to be.

“You are a twat,” I say
affectionately. “Why didn’t you tell Pete where you were going? Isn’t that the
number one rule in the book of tour bus etiquette?”

“There’s a fucking book on it?
Can you buy a Cliffs Notes version?” he asks mockingly.

I shiver. “Come on, it’s bloody
cold.”

He smirks at me, running his eyes
slowly down my body. “Yet how can you
possibly
be cold?” I look down my
body and laugh. I’m wearing a bulky, old Stone Roses hoody of Sam’s, black
tights and over them my denim cut off shorts, their hems ragged with age. My
Converse boots and a bright red beanie complete the look.

“Don’t you know I’m a daydream
dressed as a nightmare?” I say lightly.

“Did you just misquote Taylor
Swift at me?” he asks, distracted at once.

I smile. “I think I did but I’m
more interested in the fact that you recognised this.” He laughs and then as if
synchronised we both shout out. “Because you know I love the players and you
love the game.” Bram punches the air and does an alarming falsetto impression
of the lady, dancing around and singing about being young and reckless and taking
things too far while I laugh, holding my side. We’re interrupted by an icy
voice.

“Did we need to bother turning
the fucking bus around and coming back to get you Bram? You look fucking happy
enough.”

I gasp and turn around to find
Sid glaring at us, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He’s dressed in an
outfit similar to Bram, although his shorts are red plaid, his hoody has an old
Pink Floyd emblem on it, and he’s wearing a pair of Nikes, their laces undone.
He looks pissed off and incredibly sexy, his hair tousled and hanging in his
eyes.

Bram smirks and throws his arm
around my shoulders pulling me closer to him, and it’s noticeable that Sid’s
lips thin dramatically at this. “I am having fun mate actually. Nelly’s a lot
better tempered than you are at the moment.” He pauses and laughs. “She’s so
sartorially put together as well don’t you think?” and then bends over as I
punch him in the side.

“Don’t criticise my fashion
choices,” I laugh. “It’s bloody freezing on that bus. I’m wearing most of my wardrobe
at night at the moment.” Bram laughs but Sid shoots me an undecipherable look
seeming to be composed of one part concern to two parts irritation. But then
the irritation wins and he shrugs.

“Come the fuck on you two. Let’s
get back to the buses.” I trudge behind them feeling dismissed like a little
schoolgirl called to the head’s office, and I scuff my boots along to irritate
him. He shoots me a look but then ignores me resolutely. Once we’re on board we
set off again and I manage to fall back to sleep wearing another hoody and
cursing Sid.

However, the next afternoon when
I come back to the bus to change I find a parcel sitting on my bunk. There’s no
label on it but it’s wrapped in expensive looking gold tissue paper and tied
with a large, black silk bow. Opening the paper I gasp. Inside is a set of
black cashmere blankets, and a comforter which is incredibly thick and soft and
in a beautiful sand colour with cream and black flowers on it. Catching sight
of a label I gasp as I see the Ralph Lauren logo. Clutching it to my chest I
run the fabric against my face. It will be incredibly warm at night and it
feels terribly expensive. It’s only when I hold it near to my face that I smell
the faint trace of citrus and spice that clings to the blanket, and I smile
hugging it to my chest. I don’t need a label to know who bought this for me.

Hours later I sit in the late
afternoon playing poker with Rob and some of the other boys. All the men are
very nice and have settled easily into having a rogue woman amongst them. They
give me first dibs in the bathroom and look after me, and in return I cook
occasionally and clean up after them. Most of them are married and I’ve been
treated to endless photos of their wives and children and grandchildren so it feels
a bit like a big, extended, travelling family.

We’re currently in Hamburg
waiting to play the gig. I’m changed and ready, dressed in a very short,
flippy, black lace skirt teamed with a black and white pinstriped vest top and
boots provided by Vanessa, who follows us in a big van fitted out with rails of
clothes and everything that she needs to keep them ready. She tends to stop in
motels rather than sleep on the bus which I have to say is a welcome relief. I
know she doesn’t like me because of Sid which is silly because she
really
doesn’t have to worry about him. She’s also been very temperamental, especially
since the other night when she put me in a red and white striped t-shirt with
tight black capri trousers, and Bram asked her if she’d got a string of onions
and a beret to go with the outfit.

Becoming aware that the other men
are waiting for my hand and that I’m once again thinking about Sid I throw my
cards down. “I’m going to walk across,” I say. It’s nearly time anyway for the
openers to go on. There’s a round of agreement and ten minutes later we all
tumble out of the bus and start the walk across the car park. Normally, the bus
drops us off outside the gig and then parks some way off. The drivers pick us
up afterwards and then we either travel to the hotel for the night, or they
drive through the night taking us to the next destination on the itinerary.
Tonight it’s the latter.

The coach park that we’re in has
been scrutinized thoroughly before being deemed to be suitable by security.
They’re stringent but then they have to be because the amount of groupies
surrounding these boys is extreme. They wait everywhere - outside the doors of
the gigs, near the tour buses. They haunt the hotels and everywhere on the
itinerary including service stations and public toilets. The boys seem to take
it in their stride and humour them without going too far, although from some of
the tales that the guys who’ve been with them for a few years tell, they
haven’t always been angels and have had more than their fair share of groupies.

Now however, Seth and Charlie are
taken, Charlie more than Seth I think, and that leaves Bram and Sid as the
single ones. Bram is a total player but a selective one, and his conquests seem
to be comprised of models and actresses to the extent that Seth reckons that
he’s making his way through the books of the European modelling agencies. Sid
doesn’t seem to bother but I’m bracing myself for the day that he does because
I know that it’s going to hurt like fuck when he does. I know this because the
girls only have to put their arms round him and I get a tense sick feeling. I
watch him all the time, but so far he’s more concentrated on the music than
anything else. Shrugging my thoughts off I huddle into my coat and make my way
towards our venue.

Two
hours later

We’re playing in a crazy old
rococo theatre with acres of red velvet and gold trimmings and it’s been a
brilliant night. The crowd has been fantastic, full of a huge energy and the
boys have been brilliant and on top of their game. Charlie prowls the front of
the stage like a blonde god holding everyone’s eyes as he exchanges banter with
the audience and his voice seems to fill the theatre with its gravelly,
powerful sound. He’s much happier tonight because Mabe and Mick got here a few
hours ago and she’s staying for a few days. 

It’s Sid as normal though that
captures my eyes. He took his shirt off a few songs back and stuffed it in the
back of his jeans to the accompaniment of much female screaming to which he
responded with a bow and a smirk. He’s not moving much unlike Bram, who wanders
around the stage joking with whoever he’s standing next to like a very hot
social butterfly. Sid though, well Sid just stands still staring out at the
audience with a half-smile playing around the edges of his full lips as his
long fingers move over the strings fluidly. His tattoos glisten with sweat on
his olive skin and his hair is a sweaty mess standing on end from where he’s
pushed his hands through it to get it out of his eyes.

He looks like nothing more than
that he’s crawled out of some woman’s bed in the middle of the night, and I
can’t help it anymore because I want that woman to be me. I want it so badly I
have to clench my inner thighs together which seems to make the throbbing
worse. He must sense something of what I’m feeling because his head suddenly
shoots up and his eyes seem to spear me. They clear rapidly of the hazy
enjoyment that they are always filled with when he’s on stage, and instead they
darken with a visceral response. Our stares tangle and that distance that’s
been between us abruptly vanishes and everything else suddenly becomes just
background noise. I see him gasp and wet his lips and I can’t help but show
everything that’s in my mind, and almost as if he’s moving through treacle he
starts to come towards me.

It’s at this point that the night
takes a bad turn. We’ve just been getting ready to sing the encore which is
going to be The Cranberries’ ‘Linger’ and have just started the intro to a wave
of applause, when Charlie who has been shooting his normal sidelong glances to
where Mabe stands off stage, suddenly gasps and drops his microphone with an
appalling screech before darting off stage. I look up just in time to see Mabe
collapsed in a heap, her dress billowing around her. Charlie moves so fast that
he’s on her before I can blink, pushing Mick out of the way and cradling her
head in his lap frantically.

It all happens in slow motion and
at first the boys don’t realise what’s happened, and they carry on playing for
a few seconds before it dawns on them that something is wrong. Sid turns just
in time to see Charlie get to his feet carrying Mabe in his arms, and he makes
a choked noise and starts to take off his guitar and go to them. Charlie shakes
his head and motions to carry on but Sid stands stock still as if he doesn’t
know what to do.

I edge towards him and then Seth,
Adam and Bram descend on us pushing us into a tight huddle at the side. We’re
out of view but in the background I can hear the unsettled shouts of the crowd.
They’re going to get really agitated soon if we don’t take control of the
moment. Bram is muttering to Sid and I can hear snatches of what he’s saying,
urging him to get it together and that Mabe will be fine, but it’s obviously
not going well and he gives me a helpless look which doesn’t sit well on his
normally confident face. “Tell him Nell,” he urges. “We’ve got to get back on
and quickly.”

It dimly occurs to me that it’s
odd that he looks to me to look after Sid but the moment is too urgent, and I
do what I always want to do whenever I see that worried look cross his face. I
go on tiptoe and curve my palms around his high, broad cheekbones. His eyes are
worried and focused on the side of the stage where Charlie disappeared, but at
my touch he seems to come to and he focuses on me. “Get it together
sweetheart,” I urge him and he blinks. “Mabe will be fine and we need to finish
up so that Charlie doesn’t feel that he has to come back on and leave her.”
It’s this that gets through to him and he nods determinedly and the other men
breathe a sigh of relief. “Can you sing?” I ask him but Seth interrupts us.

“You’ll have to do it
Nell.” 

“
What
?” I ask in
disbelief, and a fair amount of panic. “I can’t do that. I’m just the backing
singer, they’ll never accept me doing it. Sid can do it.”

“He can’t sing like you
sweetheart,” Seth says gently. “You’re it honey and you know it. You’re no more
a backing singer than I’m Ginger Rogers.” I smile slightly at that image and
look uncertainly at Sid who surprises me by sliding his arm around my waist and
drawing me to him. Feeling him touch me after the last week of Cold War makes
me shiver.

“Only do this if you’re okay with
it,” he says intently. “I don’t want you feeling uncomfortable about anything,
ever.”

“What do you think?”

“I know you can do it.” He has
absolute certainty in his eyes and I feel strength seep back into me along with
a dose of high adrenaline energy. I know that I can do it and I know it’ll feel
so good to be front stage again. Something of what I am feeling must get
through to him because he rubs my shoulders briskly and steps back. “What are
we going to sing?” he asks, looking at the other three.

“Not ‘Linger’,” Bram says staring
into space thoughtfully. “That sounded different with Charlie singing it, but
Nell’s got a similar voice to Dolores so we need something else.”

“Elbow’s ‘One Day Like This’,”
Seth offers and Sid grins.

“That’s it. Nell sounded fucking
fantastic doing that during rehearsals. Imagine what it’ll sound like on
stage.”

“What about the violin?” Adam
queries.

“Sid can do it,” I say turning to
him and he grimaces.

“I’m not sure about that
sweetheart. You’ve only given me a few lessons.”

“Sid, you played it through
perfectly the other day.” I pause and then swallow hard and reach for my violin
from behind him. “Take it,” I say holding it out to him.

Sid looks startled. “I can’t
sweetheart, your brother bought you that. You don’t let anyone else touch it.”

“I can when it’s you. I trust
you.” I push the instrument into his hand gratified to see him cradling the
violin like it’s his baby and with reverence. “You’re brilliant with
instruments.”

Bram breaks the moment when he
makes gagging noises. “Fuck off, don’t say that Nell. He’ll be going on about
his looking after your instrument for the rest of the night.” Sid laughs
outright at that, pushing him playfully and then the four men snap into place
and focus. “So we’re decided? I’ll introduce you?”

I gulp. “Yes go for it,” I say
firmly, moving towards the front of the stage as if I’m in a dream.

Sid

Bram adjusts Charlie’s microphone
stand for Nell’s height and then grabs his own. “You might have noticed that
we’ve misplaced our singer,” he drawls to the accompaniment of a lot of
shouting and I’m worried to hear a few boos. Fuck, I don’t want the crowd
turning on her because I’ll go apeshit if anyone upsets her. I sling my arm
around her and hug her in a show of solidarity while the back of my mind is
focusing incessantly on Mabe. Fuck, is she okay? I don’t think Charlie could
survive it if anything happened to her. Is that what love is, being hostage to
someone else? I shudder slightly but I notice that I’m not as adamant about the
horror as I normally am. I don’t want to think about why that is.

It’s at this point that I catch
movement out of the corner of my eye and I turn to see Mick gesturing. Catching
my eye he gives a big grin and a double thumbs up and I relax so suddenly I
almost feel weak. Nell catches my slight movement immediately. Sometimes I
swear it’s like we’re attached by some invisible string which is what has made
the last week so hard. I’ve opened my mouth so many times to tell her stuff and
had to forcibly turn away from her instead.

She brings me back to myself when
she smiles at Mick and then hugs me close. “Well that’s alright then,” she says
calmly and I almost laugh because she sounds like she’s getting ready to have a
cup of tea, not sing in front of over 5000 people, and once again I wonder at
the anomaly of her.

 Bram is winding up now and
I’m pleased to see that the audience looks a little more receptive. He must
have guilt tripped them while I was behaving like a total pussy at the back.
“So you’ve seen a little of her tonight but let me tell you there’s a lot more
to be seen. Let’s have a shout out for Nelly Slater.” Cheers erupt and Nell
stirs and I almost tighten my grip for a second. I honestly feel like one of my
children is going to school for the first time and I don’t know what the fuck
is wrong with me. I want to do everything for this girl, lay myself at her feet
and take every piece of shit that life’s going to throw at her, but she’s a
strong woman and I have to let her do this. My hands release and she steps
forward into the spotlight as Bram moves back shaking his head at me for being
the obviously pathetic motherfucker that I am.

Our attention instantly shifts to
Nell because in the process of moving forwards it’s like she has a body
transplant. Gone are the slightly hesitant steps, and instead she strides
forward in a lazy, measured pace almost as if she’s stalking the audience. When
she reaches the front she rests one of her feet on the light in front of her
and leans forward, and at the sight of her with those long, fucking bare legs
clad in battered, old biker boots I shoot hard as a rock quicker than I ever
have before. I hold the violin in front of me shocked because nothing ever
disturbs my concentration on stage. However, she’s not nothing, she’s
everything and I know that she’s about to prove it.

 She leans forward and
smiles at the front row and already most of the men are looking entranced.
“Well hello there,” she purrs. “Thanks for putting up with me.”

Just then some fuckwit shouts out
loudly, “Never mind the foreplay, show us your tits love!” I step forward and I
swear there’s a red haze over my eyes. I’m going to find that fucker and beat
the shit out of him. Bram steps in front of me.

“Don’t be stupid,” he shouts.
“Look at her,” and I turn and my mouth gapes open. Nell’s standing there and
looks like she’s going to pull off her blouse to the accompaniment of a lot of
cheering, but then she stops and shakes a finger at the bloke chidingly making
a tsk tsk noise.