Trust Me (Beggar's Choice #2) (6 page)

Charlie wanders back in slapping
his brother on the back in greeting. “Is she okay?” I mouth and he smiles and
gives me the thumbs up.

“She’s asleep already. Has that
prick answered yet?” I hush him frantically and he grins.

At this point Mabe’s boss comes
back onto the phone abruptly. “So Mrs Hudson, what can I do for you?” he asks
somewhat snidely. “What appears to be the problem?”

“I’m so sorry,” I say quickly and
trying hard to find my inner, poorly voice. “I won’t be in to work today. I’ve
been very sick and I feel absolutely terrible.”

“Well, I rather gathered that you
weren’t coming in seeing as you should be at your desk right at this moment.” I
open my mouth to apologise but he cuts me off. “Hold please,” he says again and
I sigh long sufferingly and then look up to find Bram laughing at me.

“What?” I ask.

“You do know that in order to
actually play hooky and pull a sicky properly you can’t ring in sick when we,
your employers, are actually in the same room Nell.”

“Oh fuck right off you bloody
twat,” I say but as he breaks into laughter I become horribly aware that the
music has stopped again and I can hear agitated breathing on the line now.

“
What
did you say Mrs
Hudson?” comes the scandalised voice.

 “Oh my God. No Mr Mason, I
wasn’t telling you to fuck off,” I say horror struck. “I was just …” and here I
flounder badly. “I was just telling …” Inspiration strikes. “I was just telling
the doctor to fuck off.” Sid spits out a mouthful of coffee over the table, and
Bram actually slides underneath it clutching his side while Charlie bites his
knuckles. I’m slightly at a loss now but I rally and finish brightly. “Yes, I’m
telling him to do that Mr Mason because he’s ordering me not to go to work and
you know me, I really, really love my work.” I trail off slightly at the end
and finish faintly. Sid is now bright red in the face and Bram is making a
noise like a donkey. I somehow manage to bring the conversation to a close and
then sink into my chair. “I’m knackered,” I say feebly to a fresh wave of
hysterical laughter from the men.

“Nell from the bottom of my heart
I thank you.” Charlie grabs my cheeks and smooches me.

“Ugh Charlie!” I protest, wiping
my face and catching Sid’s smile. “Why are you thanking me?” I ask suspiciously
because even I know that that was the cock up to end all cock ups.

He shrugs. “I’ve been on at her
to quit for years. I think you’ve just managed it in five minutes.”

“Oh no don’t!” I cover my face
with my hands while Bram who had been climbing back onto his chair subsides
under the table again.

Ten minutes later order is
resumed and the men are heaping their plates with food. “Nell, this is
Vanessa,” Sid says gesturing to the sourpuss with his knife.

She smiles at me faintly and
gives me a limp hand to shake. “Pleased to meet you.”

“And you,” I say and a slightly
awkward silence is broken by her turning back to the boys and involving them in
a conversation about tour clothes.

“Vanessa, you know this. We have
the same conversation every time. Jeans and fucking t-shirts. As long as
they’re clean and ironed we really don’t give a shit sweetheart. We’re not
fucking Madonna!” Charlie is polite but obviously getting exasperated and I
detect a distinct coolness towards her which is puzzling because the way she
speaks to them implies a long standing relationship.

Sid is usually the diplomat of
the two and he doesn’t fail this time. “Van,” he says charmingly and she
visibly melts at his use of the diminutive of her name. “Charlie’s right babe.
We’re easy to please and you remember Adam. He’ll need the same as us so speak
to him about getting his measurements. Nell’s the one that needs to be sorted
so perhaps you could do that today.” She sighs visibly but then grudgingly
agrees which is why we find ourselves in a little boutique off the King’s Road
a couple of hours later.

The shop is just up my street
with clothes that are fashion forward but still different enough to be quirky,
and it’s such a rare treat to be looking at clothes that are so new they almost
shine. There’s no second hand smell to them and none of the having to make do
that has characterised the last few years. However, having to shop with someone
who seems to dislike me already is wearing and taking the shine off what Sid
obviously thought would be a treat for me. For a second I wish fervently that I
was here with Mark my best friend from school, because that would just have
made my day, but he’s off styling a fashion shoot in Mauritius that his
boyfriend is also working on. Flipping through the racks of clothes I look at
Vanessa. She’s been fairly quiet so far and my nixing a few clothes because
they were too fussy didn’t improve her disposition, and although I’ve tried
hard to be friendly I’m starting to give up and the conversation is
languishing. I decide to have one last go. “So have you known the boys long?”

“Since the early days,” she says
proudly, instantly perking up. Unwittingly I’ve obviously hit the jackpot of
conversation for her – Beggar’s Choice and her association with them.

“Wow! Have you always done
wardrobe?”

“Yeah. At first I was just
hanging around with them but one night I helped them get their stuff together
and it went from there.” She shoots a look at me and I tense because I know
something’s coming. She looks far too happy. “I actually got to know them through
my best friend – Leah. Do you know her?”

I rack my brain. “The name sounds
familiar,” I settle for saying, and I’m sure I have heard someone mention Leah.
It’s just that I don’t think it was complimentary.

She smiles cattily. “I’m sure you
would have, especially if you’ve been working with Sid. He’s always talking
about her.”

“Sid?” I ask trying not to appear
bothered. From the pleased smile on her face I know I haven’t been entirely
successful.

“Yes. Leah’s the love of Sid’s
life. They’ve been together for years on and off.”

“They’re not together now though
are they?” I feel slightly sick.

“Not at the moment but you can’t
tell with that pair. Every so often they split up for a while, usually because
Leah wants a bit of freedom, and although he’s shagged a lot of other women
during the breaks they’re faceless to him because he’s always just really
waiting for her. He’s waiting for her to get her shit together like he has, but
no matter what happens he can’t seem to let her go and she’s the same with him.
They’ll be together forever in the end - it’s meant to be. Other people come
and go,” she finishes, looking at me, and the implication is obvious. “But they
still keep going.”

I wonder what shit she has to get
together but I think I can make an educated guess and my heart feels sick. If
she’s involved with drugs which Vanessa has just implied, then she’s no good
for him. “Is she better?” I ask tentatively and she gives a strained smile.

“She will be,” she says with
great certainty. “She just needs Sid, but Charlie’s being a complete bastard as
usual and won’t help her.”

I swallow hard. I can’t say that
I blame him. If Sid were mine I wouldn’t want him anywhere near any addicts
from his past, particularly one that he’s had an emotional connection with. A little
voice inside me asks whether I’m more bothered about the fact that she’s his
on/off girlfriend than I am the addict bit, but I push it aside. I open my
mouth to ask Vanessa more but then stop myself. This isn’t anything to do with
me. I might be working with the boys but it’s just a temporary thing and I
can’t let myself get attached. I know I am though - I can feel it. Who could
resist a group of such decent, warm people who’ve shown me such kindness, and
I’m repaying them by gossiping. Hoping to distract her I pull an absolutely
horrific dress full of flounces and ruffles and with an asymmetrical hem off
the rail.

“What do you think to this?” I
ask, showing her. “How about that?”

Instantly distracted she exclaims
in horror. “No that’s not right at all. Why don’t you try these on?” She hands
me the armful of clothing that she’s gathered together and much as I want to
hate them I can’t. She obviously knows her stuff and everything she’s picked I
know will suit me. “The silhouette’s very 60’s again this year.” She looks at
me consideringly. “How would you feel about cutting your hair in a crop?” she
asks. “Think Mia Farrow – your face would suit that perfectly because it’s so
thin and it would set the clothes off so well.”

“I’m not sure,” I reply slowly. Having
my hair that short brings back bad memories of the night that I fell apart and
cut it off myself. I’d been drunk and Mark my friend had been so worried that
he’d slept next to me for a week. Shaking off the memories like smoke from my
skin I realize I’ve been silent for too long and she’s staring at me
thoughtfully. “No,” I say more decisively this time. “I like it this length.”

“Pity,” she mutters and then
darts to the side and comes back with more clothes. Gesturing to the sales
assistant to put them in the changing room she goes over to the shoes. “I’d
like to put you in short flirty dresses and I’ll keep the colours darker
because otherwise you’re going to stand out too much from the boys. You’re thin
so we can go for little shorts and skirts with tops and team everything with
bare legs. We’ll put some instant tan on your legs.” She holds up some heels
and then shakes her head when she sees my face. “Ballet pumps then,” she muses
rifling through a shelf of flats in jewel colours.

“What about my boots?” I ask
gesturing to the lace up biker boots that Sam bought for me years ago in New
York. She smiles suddenly, making me wish that she did it more because she
instantly looks softer and more approachable

“They’re perfect,” she laughs.
“Very quirky.”

For a second she looks almost
friendly and I forget that she’s actually a barracuda who seems determined to
hate me. “Yes Sid said that,” I laugh and her expression sours instantly.

“Just be careful with those boys
Nell,” she says in a patronising voice. “They’re heartbreakers all of them.”

“Charlie’s happy,” I venture but
she sniffs dismissively.

“At the moment, but she won’t
keep him. He needs more than some nonentity that he’s got fond childhood
memories of. He’s a rock star, not the boy next door.”

“I think they’re very much in
love,” I say hotly and perhaps she remembers that I’m working with the boys and
if this gets back to Charlie he’ll sack her without question. Nobody criticizes
Mabe and gets away with it. Whatever the reason the subject is changed as I
hoped for, but I can’t get her words out of my mind and as I get changed into
outfit after outfit I dwell on them like pressing on a sore tooth. I know she’s
a bitch but her words have too much of a ring of truth about them and I force
myself to remember his words of a few weeks ago and his actions. Time after
time his phone has chimed and he’ll always drop whatever he’s doing and he’s
usually got a fond expression on his face. I don’t know why it never occurred
to me that he might have a girlfriend but this is the final straw with me. We
seem to have a push and pull thing developing between us where we get close but
then he will dance away and distance himself and I wonder to myself how long
it’ll be before I learn my lesson and realise that the intense attraction that
I’m starting to feel for him is not and cannot be reciprocated.

After this the days start to go
faster and faster and before I know it, it’s December and the day before our
first gig. We’re playing in an old theatre in Camden. It’s full of history,
with loads of the greats like The Rolling Stones and Jimi Hendrix having played
there in the 1960’s and 1970’s. Since then it had fallen on hard times,
becoming a nightclub and then a bingo hall, before it closed and fell into disrepair.
Matt, a close friend of Sid’s from school, bought it and restored it five years
ago with the aim of making it into a sought after venue again. It’s in a great
location, central with parking nearby, and I know the boys picked it to kick
off the tour to do him a favour. It should well and truly put him on the map in
that case because the buzz surrounding the tour which they’ve titled ‘The Back
to Basics Tour’, is huge. The boys have been doing masses of publicity and the
idea of such a big band going back to their roots has really caught the
imagination.

The tickets have been very
restricted. They’re not going to be available through the normal avenues
because the boys wanted to keep the ticket touts out of it, so instead they
announced that they’d go on sale as a lightning sale for only a few hours at a
mysterious location that would be revealed on the morning by local radio
stations. The tickets for this gig went on sale at a local HMV and the queues
went round the block several times over. I’d wandered over to have a look with
Mick, one of the boys’ best friends, and we’d seen loads of teenagers waiting
huddled up in masses of layers, their breaths a startling white on the cold
air. A palpable air of excitement hung in the air and it took me back to being
a teenager again, queuing to see my favourite bands, full of hopes and dreams
about making it big myself.

“Good to see kids doing this
again,” Mick said echoing my thoughts.

“What? Playing hooky because
those girls probably aren’t even sixteen?”

“Still won’t stop them chucking
their knickers at Sid,” he laughed.

I’d smiled because I like Mick.
He’s a very funny man with a big beer belly and a heart as large as the ocean.
He loves the boys like his own family, and from what I’ve gathered about them
they’ve all had circumstances in their childhoods that have made them opt to
choose their own family the second time around. Beggar’s Choice isn’t just a
band, it’s more the representation of this family ethic and it warms me to be
close to them. However, it’s the warmth of standing near a fire with the backs
of your legs feeling the encroaching cold air behind you, because I know that
in a few short months I’ll be out of their lives. I’ve grown close to them all
over the weeks, but surprisingly the one I feel closest to is Sid, which has
definitely happened since I started teaching him how to play the violin.

At first he stuck rigidly to the
one hour that he’d stipulated in the morning and he maintained his distance.
However, gradually the lessons started getting longer and he dropped his
distance and let me in a little bit. After a bit we started to just sit
together, sometimes not even looking at the violin, but just talking and
laughing about anything and everything, and we found that we share similar tastes
in music and films and books and seem to laugh at all the same things. Often
I’ve had tears running down my face as he’s told me stories about their early
days. I would say that he is well on the way to becoming a close friend, but
underneath everything like a dark thread runs an attraction to each other.
Sometimes his eyes will catch on my lips while I’m talking. Other times I will
have to make an effort to breathe steadily when I’m bent over him altering the
placement of his hands and I’ve noticed that his own breathing will pick up.
I’m not going to delude myself though. Attraction is a basic need which nobody
can control and at the back of my mind there is always the mysterious Leah. He
too seems prepared to fight it, because as soon as anything happens he shuts
down and moves away. I’m therefore resigned to just being friend zoned, if I
can even be called that.

Shaking off my thoughts I look
around. I’m sitting on the edge of the stage looking out at the theatre and
swinging my legs idly over the side. It’s very cold in here and I’m glad that I
put on my skinny jeans and oversize cream sweater this morning. I’ve teamed
them with an old, navy, military jacket and my boots and wrapped a long navy
and white scarf around my neck, but I’m still freezing. We’ve just done our
sound check and as normal Sid is tinkering with the sound, his face hard and
concentrated. He’s an absolute perfectionist to the extent that the others have
now wandered off to have a cigarette, take a phone call or get a drink, or in Bram’s
case all three. He catches my eye as I look at him and ambles over, lowering
his long, hard frame to sit beside me and stretching his long legs out in front
of him. Catching my gaze he stares at Sid for a second and then laughs. “Poor
Rob,” he says, pointing his finger at the beleaguered roadie who is holding up
some wires with a questioning look on his face while Sid points and talks low.
“Don’t think he knows what to do with Sid this time round.”

I look at him questioningly and
he shrugs while a sad expression crosses his face. “Rob’s toured with us for a
few years but he never knew Sid before the drugs. On the last tour Sid didn’t
even bother to turn up for sound checks. He was so wasted most of the time it
was a waste of time trying to talk to him, and when he did talk he was so
unpredictable it was like putting a collar on a tornado.”

I smile sadly because Sam was
just like that, and Bram’s gaze sharpens because he must read all over my face
that I understand what he’s saying. I lower my eyes instantly breaking the
conversation, and he pauses for a second obviously wanting to question me, but
then he gives up and looks back at Sid again.

“He looks okay now though Bram?”

“Yeah I’m just fucking praying
that he keeps this way,” he says grimly. “This tour will be a big test.” I nod
because being on the road is a dangerous place for an addict – the erratic
hours and being on the road constantly with no familiarity or routine to cling
to because no day is the same, make it hard to keep order. “Still he’s totally
different now,” Bram adds, shaking off his dark mood. I’ve noticed that he
finds it difficult to stay dark. He’s a people pleaser and a real charmer.
“It’s almost like getting to know a completely different person now.”

“In what way?” I’m interested in
a bittersweet way because I never got this chance with Sam.

“Well the last time he was clean
we were at college. Everyone changes when they grow up anyway so Sid just took
a detour for a while that’s all. It’s like meeting him again after not seeing him
for a few years, because make no mistake the Sid I’ve known for the last few
years was a stranger to me. Now I’m seeing him again as an adult and I have to
say I like it. He’s still a good laugh but I can talk to him again now, you
know?” I nod because the two of them are really close. They always roomed
together in the past when on tour, and they’re forever chatting together or
arguing in that way that only real friends do. Charlie and Seth are a couple of
years older and they tend to gravitate towards each other, but mostly they’re
all together. Bram carries on swigging from his water, his strong throat
working. “I like the way he is with the music again as well. We’ve got him back
and we’re not losing him again,” he adds firmly, and his voice is suddenly
harsh and his expression forbidding.

I smile at him and stroke his
tanned forearm which has gone tight at some thought. Suddenly feeling a gaze on
me I look up to find Sid staring at me while Rob talks to him and gesticulates.
Instead of focusing like before, his eyes are now on Bram and I and they seem
to darken as he takes in our sitting so closely together with my hand on his
arm. He stares for a second and I know Bram is still talking but it’s become
background noise as Sid and I lock eyes. I breathe in sharply and it breaks the
spell and I turn back to Bram, aware that Sid has broken away from Rob who is
still talking, with a pat on his back, and is now making his way to us. He
comes to a stop and I raise my eyes up his long, long legs clad in old faded
jeans to his lean torso clad in a grey shirt with the sleeves rolled up showing
off his tanned forearms, and then up to catch in his blue eyes which look
darker now with what looks like anger as he stares down at us.

“What the fuck are you two
doing?” he asks quite rudely I think, and I wait for Bram to retaliate but he
just looks at Sid consideringly before leaning back and almost challengingly
throwing his arm around my shoulders, dragging me to him. Sid’s jaw tenses and
fascinated, I notice a tic beginning to throb there.

“We’re just relaxing together,”
Bram says smoothly.

 “Well don’t,” comes the
terse retort. “Rob needs a hand with that lead. Something’s cutting out.”

“Am I an electrician now?”

“No, but as it’s for your bass
perhaps you should bother to take a fucking look.”

Bram stares at him for a second
and his arm tightens around me and then suddenly he lets go so quickly I almost
fall back, and it’s only Sid stooping and catching my arm that stops me
tumbling backwards as Bram bounds to his feet. “Careful,” Sid says crossly but
Bram just smirks and ruffles my hair before making his way over to the patient
Rob who is grinning at this piece of byplay.

“Come on then Rob,” Bram
announces in a voice intended to carry. “Let the men sort the problem out and
leave the boys alone.” I smile but it fades as I look up and catch Sid’s
glower. He’s still stooped over me holding my arm but he lets it go when I pull
on it.

“What?” I ask defensively.

“Be careful of Bram,” he mutters.
“You’ll get hurt if you take him at all seriously.”

“For Christ’s sake.” I’m
irritated now. “What is it with you people? If one isn’t warning me off you,
you’re warning me off another.”

“What? Who warned you off me?” He
grips my arm in agitation but when I wince he instantly lets go and muttering
an apology he begins a gentle rubbing of the sore part. Raising his eyebrows at
me he lowers himself into a gentle crouch next to me. “Who warned you off me?”
he asks again and his voice is deeper now. I know this because suddenly all I
can feel is his hand rubbing my arm and the sparks that seem to fly from that
point of contact to between my legs. His eyelids lower and his touch becomes
more caressing as he reaches my hand and twines our fingers together. I gasp
slightly and he instantly lets me go, but with the vague air of a man coming
out of a dream. For a second there’s silence and then like a bloodhound he’s
straight back on course. “Well?” he asks raising his eyebrows.

“Vanessa,” I say slowly, giving
in because he isn’t going to.

“What the fuck?” he hisses,
pushing his hand through the silky strands of his hair and gifting me a scent
of sweet shampoo.

“She just wanted me not to get
hurt.” I hope she isn’t in trouble now but really she couldn’t give two shits
about me, and his wry glance tells me that he knows this. Settling down beside
me with one of his lightning changes of mood he stretches out his legs
meditatively and then playfully knocks one of his feet against my leg.

“How did it go with Cruella the
Stylist anyway?” he asks, referencing another shopping trip that she and I had
been on and I burst out laughing. Sometimes his humour catches me by surprise.

“It was okay I guess. Thank you
for the clothes by the way. They’re beautiful. I think they’ll look good on the
stage.”

“You could wear a sack and still
look good.” The matter of fact way that he says this touches me.

“Not sure about cutting my hair
though,” I muse and he jerks.

“Cutting your hair? What fuckwit
suggested that?” he asks angrily.

“Well Vanessa thought a crop might
suit the style better.”

“Then let Vanessa crop her own
fucking hair and while she’s at it she can crop her fucking mouth. Cutting your
fucking hair! I’ve never heard such a stupid idea.”

“Okay,” I say peaceably. “It
doesn’t matter. I won’t do it.”

“No, don’t.” His voice is firm,
and almost unwillingly he raises his hand and tangles it in the curls over my
right ear. “It’s beautiful,” he mutters. He runs his hand through the strands
letting them fall like fire over his fingers, and there’s something so sensual
about his sheer enjoyment of this sensory stimulus that I’m wet instantly, and
almost as if he knows it he looks up and our eyes tangle. He parts his mouth to
let an uneven breath escape, but then we hear a shout from Seth and the spell
is broken just like that. He lets his hand fall and blows out a long breath
before jumping to his feet and extending his arm to pull me up. “Back to work,”
he says briskly, and pulling away from me he walks away to the side of the
stage where Seth waits. It’s only a few feet away but it might as well be in
Siberia, the distance between us again is so vast.

We spend the next few hours
making sure that everything is running properly and to Sid’s satisfaction, and
then another hour finalizing the set list. I think this had the potential to go
on for longer because there’s a lot of good natured arguing as everyone wants
to play their own favourites, and as we’ve been joined by Mick, Viv, Mabe and
Lucy it gets very loud. The only thing they totally agree on is that for the
encore we’ll do a cover in a very different way like they always do, and the
song has to be something unexpected – ‘No X Factor shit’ as Charlie puts it.

Finally, we’re finished and we
gather together for a Chinese takeaway at the three big tables that Matt has
dragged together in the bar area. Candles are dotted about amongst cartons and
cartons of food. My stomach rumbles loudly and Seth who is standing next to me
gives one of his deep laughs. “You can say that again honey,” he says and moves
to sit down next to Viv. He’s forestalled by Lucy who slips neatly into the
chair leaving him to sit on her other side next to Adam. He shoots her a look
but refrains from saying anything. I don’t think he’s a pushover, but he’s kind
and he won’t embarrass her in public. I look at Viv but she’s staring
stalwartly ahead ignoring Lucy who now that she has her own way is resting her
head prettily on Seth’s shoulder. The more I see of her the more I’m starting
to dislike her. I can’t see why Seth is with her because he’d be so much
happier with Viv. Their personalities seem to match so perfectly and sometimes
when they talk together it’s like no one else exists, but those moments are few
and far between and mostly there’s a weird distance between them. From what
Mabe says this is a relatively new thing, and no one knows why because they
used to be really good friends. Both she and Charlie have tried to find out
what happened but neither of them have been forthcoming.