Chapter Four
Jem
Two Blue Phoenix guys are harder to hide than one. The Camden venue is bigger than the last place I saw Ruby Riot, and jammed with students. Most pretend not to notice us, if anyone thinks Blue Phoenix are old school, it’s these guys. This both suits and amuses me. On my way through, I check out some of the chicks and none of them responds. I’m long overdue getting laid and judging by their indifference, this could be fun. A challenge could be the thing to take my mind off obsessing about sex with scarlet-haired rock chicks.
The venue owner gives Bryn and me one of the back rooms to hang out in. The chipped wall is decorated with band posters dating back years and it doesn’t take long to locate a tatty Blue Phoenix one near the top. I remember playing here. And I’m pretty sure I remember getting an awesome blowjob in this very room.
“What you thinking about?” asks Bryn.
“Old times.” I indicate the poster with my bottle of water.
“Reckon this band could be the next Phoenix?” he asks.
I choke a laugh. “Come on, nobody can be the next Phoenix. It’s like saying, ‘can Phoenix be the next Stones’. Close but not close enough.”
Bryn shakes his head with a small smile. “Such humility, Jem.”
“Have you listened to them? Ruby Riot?”
Now he fixes me with a half-disparaging look, lips pouting slightly. “I not only heard but saw them, too, on YouTube. I can see one of the attractions for you.”
“The chick? I wouldn’t rate a band based on how hot the singer is!”
Bryn gives me a disparaging look. “If only I could believe that.”
“But you heard them? You can see this is beyond my dick’s opinion?”
“I’m winding you up. Yeah. Be interesting to see them live.”
Five minutes into their set and I can see Bryn agrees. He doesn’t have to say anything for me to know the sound gets under his skin too. Again, Ruby’s voice travels to my soul, to the place we share that I don’t want to be. The crowd, a sweaty sea of black, is as spellbound as the last time I saw them play, and again I hover near the bar. Wearing a tank top and short skirt with knee high striped socks and kick-ass boots, she’s sexy as hell. I have a thing for huge ass boots wrapping half of a girl’s leg. I really, really shouldn’t picture them wrapped around me. Too late. I shift against my hardening reaction to her; one I bet a few other guys are having.
I doubt Ruby can see me from here, but I want her to look at me. Instead, she spends a lot of tonight singing to the floor or the ceiling, hair flying around her as she moves around the stage. Oblivious. Despite the synchronicity of the band, she’s on the edge in her own space. It’s as if Ruby’s something rare the guys have captured and she won’t allow herself to be part of them. Not completely.
A girl with long, dark hair sits on a stool nearby, facing the band. She’s petite, dressed in a short black dress that barely covers her ass and tits, and red and black striped leggings. Is this a thing? Chicks with stripy legs? She side glances me and her mouth makes an ‘o’ of recognition, so I nod.
She smiles. I smile back.
Awesome.
Bryn’s halfway into the crowd, partly blended in although his height sets him head and shoulders above the others. Nobody notices. A lot of the guys are fixated on the vision of sexual fantasies incarnated in the girl who’d eat them alive. I can’t equate this girl with the ballsy voice and the meek girl held against the wall by her dickhead boyfriend or whatever he is. I can only hope she uses some of that strength to kick his backside, and soon.
“You’re Jem Jones, aren’t you?” calls the girl over the music, as I approach her.
“I guess I don’t need a lame chat-up line for you then.”
“Try one if you like.”
“No, sweetheart, I don’t need to.”
She licks her bottom lip slowly, and trains her eyes on me. “I came here tonight because I heard you’d be here.”
Aha. I move closer and lean against the wooden bar next to her. “Oh? And why would that be?”
“I have fantasies about sex with rock stars.”
“You don’t mess around do you?” I say with a laugh.
“Why play games? I bet you don’t.”
“Oh, I do, interesting games…”
The music fades as the band pauses, set finished and the encore cheered for.
The girl sips from her glass. Seriously, did this chick come here tonight to f-uck Jem Jones? Girls as forward as this set off my ‘media alarm’. Will our night be a double-page spread in the daily newspaper? Night? Huh. She’ll be lucky. I consider all this as I weigh up whether I’ll indulge her fantasies.
Groupies come in several categories, some less pleasant than others, but this kind I enjoy. Wide-eyed and breathless, she introduces herself as Sara and tells me stories of her relationship with Blue Phoenix - you know, first heard us, first gig, blah, blah, and apparently tried to get backstage a few times, but never succeeded. I apologise and slide my hand underneath her dress. This kind of girl is my favourite type, pretends to be brazen, but melts into star-struck the moment I touch them.
“I see you made a friend, Jem.” Nice timing, Bryn.
“Sara.” I gesture between the pair by way of introduction.
Her star-struck look grows. “Hey, Bryn.”
Bryn picks up my coke from the bar and drinks. I bristle. “It’s f-ucking coke!”
“Yeah, okay.” He sets the glass back down.
“Don’t big brother me!”
Before our exchange cools any further, I’m alerted by a familiar sound. The opening bars of “Rising”, Blue Phoenix’s first hit. I look over to the stage and Ruby is staring straight at me, one hand gripping the mic, the other on the stand. I count the beats before the lyrics start and every single one pushes another person around us out of my awareness.
Usually when I hear a cover version of “Rising,” I cringe at how badly the lead guitarist fails to reach my expectation. This time I’ve no idea whether this guitarist does or not, because I’m waiting. Waiting to hear Ruby’s vocals, how she interprets the song I wrote with Dylan about getting through the fire and coming out the other side burnt but alive. Nobody ever sang the words with the same understanding Dylan has.
Ruby? She’s almost there but she should stick to her own songs. Harsh? Yeah, but these tracks are my babies. This is a song you need to sing like you mean it and not pretend you do. This isn’t a song you can perform to the crowd and hope they get sucked in.
Realisation rips through me. Ruby-who-isn’t-really-Ruby is playing a role and her whole self isn’t in the performance. She’s still in the fire and until she pushes through the other side, she won’t sing this convincingly.
Bryn nudges me and gives the thumbs up. Seems the cover is good enough for him, but the band killed the mood for me the moment they covered one of my songs. Ruby Riot is phenomenal and don’t need to play other people’s work.
I turn back to the girl with the long dark hair. The band is halfway through the set and I’ve heard enough for now. Bryn can stay and let me know what he thinks.
****
The door opens and I snap my eyes open to see Bryn’s tall figure fill the doorway.
“f-uck, Jem…” He pulls a face and turns, blocking the way for the people behind him.
The girl with her mouth around my dick pulls away. Nice f-ucking timing, Bryn. Again.
Worse than that, I catch a glimpse of a girl with bright red hair next to Bryn. Our gazes lock briefly and she pulls a look of disgust and turns away. Guess I chose the wrong room, the bags dumped around must be Ruby Riot’s stuff.
The door closes and I sigh. Well, it’s not the first time I’ve been caught with my dick out. Kneeling on the floor in front of me, Sara evidently isn’t used to the situation because she has her head in her hands.
“Oh, my God, who was it?” she asks the floor.
I stand and shuffle my jeans back up. “Bryn.” I zip them. “He’s seen it all before, don’t stress.”
“Don’t want to finish then?” She looks up at me and giggles, pushing her dark hair out of her face. She’s drunk, of course. Sober girls in my experience don’t go down on random guys. Occasionally me, but that’s because of who I am, perk of the job.
“Kinda killed the mood, getting spectators.” And seeing Ruby. Why the f-uck does that matter though?
Sara’s shoulders slump slightly. “Is that it? You want me to go?” The girl pulls herself from the floor and perches on the edge of the sofa.
She’s cute. Definitely not innocent and judging by the skill of her blowjob, she’d be worth a go in bed. She no doubt knows the score too; nobody expects more than a night with me. Harmless fun.
Someone hammers on the door. “You done, Jeremy?”
Jesus, Bryn. “No, but come in.”
“I hope you’ve got your jeans on. I’m scarred, man. Nightmares for life.”
“Like you haven’t seen it before,” I call back.
Sara looks at me in confusion and in the brighter light of the room; I catch sight of her pupils. f-uck. She’s not just drunk; she’s high. I catch myself from asking what she’s on, as if it’s my business.
I pull the handle and yank the door open. Bryn’s leaning against the frame. “Not all the addictions are dealt with, then?”
The girl whose lipstick is probably decorating my genitalia now slumps back against the sofa, head against the plump cushions examining the ceiling. Something weird twinges, I didn’t deliberately take advantage of this girl but, crap, I’m glad I didn’t f-uck her.
Ruby barrels past, the real reason I’m glad I didn’t. She refuses to look at me, grabs her bag from the floor, and storms out again. The lead guitarist cranes his head around Bryn and spots the two of us.
“Oh. Hey, Sara. I see you met Jem,” he says with a knowing smirk. “I told you I’d introduce you, looks like he beat me to it.”
Sara giggles. Her giggling is really starting to irritate me. “Yeah.”
“I want to talk to you guys,” I say gruffly, then look at Sara. “Not you. The band. Sorry.”
Sara blows air into her cheeks and exhales. “‘Kay.” Staggering slightly, she stands. “Nice to meet you, Jem.”
“Yeah. Same.”
“I hang around with the guys,” she informs me and I rub my head trying to figure out why she’s telling me this. “So, might see you later.”
“Maybe.” She steps toward me and I back away.
Sara huffs and heads to the door. “Catch you later, Jax?” She strokes his cheek.
“Umm. No. Sara, get someone to take you home.”
I tip my head at Jax as she leaves the room. “Close friend?”
“Once-over.” He winks.
Great. At least I don’t have to worry about upsetting Sara if she’s a free spirit kind of girl. I don’t judge, nothing about what she does makes her worse than me because she’s a chick. I don’t get the impression she’d let people use her. I reckon she gets what she wants. If you don’t do relationships, what else can you do? Become celibate? I don’t think so.
“I’ll be with the guys,” says Jax, indicating the bar. “Leave you to chat.” He backs out of the door and closes it.
Bryn watches him go then turns to me. “You’re right about the band. We should definitely let Steve hear them.”
“Apart from them murdering “Rising”…” I mutter.
“Nobody’s ever good enough for you.”
“No, nobody plays my music like I do.”
Bryn shakes his head at me. “I reckon they’ve a lot going for them, don’t judge them because you’re in a bad mood about not getting laid.”
“That’s nothing to do with it. Yeah, I’ll talk to them.”
The venue empties, a few stragglers hang around the band and one guy in particular hangs around Ruby. He’s taller and slimmer than the dickhead she dates and she’s not impressed at his attention. I recognise the stance as the same the day I tried to hit on her - sour face, tightly crossed arms. This guy likes a challenge.
I approach. “Ruby, I want to talk to the band. Together.”
“Right.” She doesn’t look at me, staring over the shoulder of the guy she’s with. “In the Green Room?”
“Here’s fine, once everyone else has left.”
The guy looks around. “Hey! Jem Jones!” His interest in Ruby fades. “Dude!”
Dude? “Yeah, but don’t ask me for my f-ucking autograph.”
“Blue Phoenix, man…” As the longhaired kid launches into reverential stories about the band, Ruby smirks into her drink, catching my eye briefly. Her smile disappears as she does.
Then Ruby walks away from me.
I unsubtly tell the kid to get fucked, irritated by the events of the last hour, and leave him open-mouthed as I pursue Ruby. She’s settled into a leather booth seat in the corner, and chats to Bryn. I don’t know what he says to her, but she laughs a sound that tears jealousy through me. f-ucking Bryn and his sense of humour that everyone loves, even uptight red-haired chicks. The brothers, Will and Nate, look over expectantly when I approach. They remind me of the cartoon animals in that kids’ film - the two hyper, over-eager brothers. Harmless and excitable. I guess they don’t do aloof, rock star.
“Where’s Jax?” I ask, pulling out a stool.
“Smoke,” replies Bryn. His response kicks in my nicotine craving.
“No, I’m here!” says Jax, appearing on the stool next to me, the smell of cigarette smoke on his clothes not helping my resolve. A week now since I had a smoke, go Jem. “Hope you didn’t start without me.”
This guy is going to rock the star status. He has the tousled blonde-haired, blue-eyed thing going on with just the right amount of edge and cockiness. Jax isn’t along for the ride though; he drives the band. That I know from the constant hassle he gives me for an answer as to what I intend to do. I admire him for that; I did the same with every talent scout I came across in the early Phoenix days.
Ruby picks up a beer mat and taps it onto the table, edge by edge. “So? You got an answer for us yet?”
“I got a question.”
“What?” asks Jax.
“Whose idea was it to play “Rising” tonight?”
Jax rubs his mouth and chin. “Mine. Why?”
“I told you we shouldn’t have f-ucking played it!” snaps Ruby.
“We know it though! Always played it in the early days,” says Will, darting a look between the two hostile band members.
“I said we should’ve played all our own stuff.” Ruby fixes her darkened eyes on me. “Right?”
“Correct,” I say.
“f-uck!” Ruby drops the mat onto the table and grabs her bottle. “He hated it! Nice one, Jaxon.”
“I’ve heard you play a few times now, one shit cover of my song isn’t a deal breaker. Just don’t play my songs around me again.”
“He’s very protective of his children,” says Bryn. “If he had his way, nobody but Blue Phoenix would play them.”
“Sorry, man,” mutters Jax, glancing at the furious Ruby.
“Have I heard all your work?” I ask.
“Think so,” replies Jax.
“When’s your next gig?”
Everyone looks at Ruby who shifts in her seat, avoiding looking at anyone.
“We have one booked in a couple of weeks, Ruby needs to check if she can get time off work,” Jax says.
“How long since you booked the gig?”
“Couple of weeks,” says Jax.
The brothers have gone quiet and the atmosphere shifted to unease.
“How long does it take you to book time off work?” I ask Ruby. “What do you do?”
“Work at a coffee shop.” She takes a swig from her bottle.
“So you can’t plan your shifts a few weeks before?”
Jax stiffens next to me. “Things are complicated for Ruby.”
She shoots him a death stare. “Shut the f-uck up, Jax.”
“It’s true. We have issues planning gigs because of your complicated lifestyle.”
“So find another f-ucking singer!” She stands.
Shit, this girl’s fuse is short. “No, you’re the singer,” I say quietly. “I’m interested in you guys as a group and how you are now.”
Until this point, Ruby has avoided my eyes; but at my comment, she turns to me. Again, the weird something that’s causing problems reaches between us. Truthfully, if the singer wasn’t Ruby, this would be easier. There’d be no temptation to touch her, no need to get any closer to the girl who not only triggered off the dreams about Liv; but who also reminds me too much of myself. But in reality, if the singer wasn’t Ruby, the band would be a different creature and I wouldn’t be interested.
“So you’re keen?” pipes up Nate.
“Yeah. I’ll give you guys a go, help you get some more gigs and watch how you cope.”
“Whoa! Really?” Will rubs a hand through his spiky black hair and practically bounces out of his seat.
“Yeah, but if I’m gonna commit some of my time to you, you need to be a hundred per cent committed, too. I haven’t got time or patience for wannabe kids.”
“f-uck, yeah!” enthuses Nate, and he and Will high-five each other.
But all I see is the stress on Ruby’s face. Her phone beeps and she jumps, checking the screen. “Dan’s here. I have to go.”
Without another word to anyone, Ruby picks up her bag and heads to the door at the back of the bar.
“That’s the complication, isn’t it?” I ask Jax.
Jax doesn’t look at me. “Yeah, in more ways than one. Two secs.” He jumps up and follows. “Hey, Ruby!”
She pauses and they talk quietly for a couple of minutes, Ruby picking at the strap of her bag.
“Everything okay?” I ask Jax when he returns.
“Yeah, reminding her about the party at ours tonight.” He smiles slowly. “Wanna come?”
“Sure,” I say and Bryn pulls a sour face. “What?”
“Is that a good move?” he asks.
“I’m sure with you to hold my hand, I’ll be fine.”
Besides, sober amongst a drunk group of college kids sounds like an amusing alternative to going home and fighting the nightmares about Liv.
****
Sara comes with us to the party. Great. Hopefully, some other guy will pick up the slack once Sara realises she was a mistake.
We bundle the group into a couple of taxis and arrive at the old Victorian terraced house in Mile End, where the guys in the band live. Ruby leaves the club with the dickhead I saw pushing her about the other night and they follow us in his car. If she doesn’t live with the guys, does she live with him?
Not my problem.
Déjà vu hits me when I step into the narrow hallway of the house. In the tatty lounge room, a strong smell of cigarettes from the finished beer bottles full of fag ends, and the unmistakable scent of weed emanates through the smoky room. Bryn is aware too and glances at me. Test of my strength right here. Sara hangs onto my arm; Jem Jones is her prize for tonight. There are a few single guys here checking the chicks out. If I’m lucky, and leave her long enough, she might hook up with one of them.
Will appears and slings his arm around my shoulder in an over-familiar way.
“Jem! Wow! Love that you came here!”
I peel his arm off and he holds his hands up in apology. I’m not into people touching me and tonight I’m smothered.
“Yeah, okay.” I bump my rear onto the dilapidated green velour sofa and question my logic in coming here. Bryn flops besides me and rests his feet on the scratched wooden coffee table. “Time warp, huh?” he asks, as we watch the kids around.
“I feel f-ucking old, man.”
“Y’ know, I love it,” says Bryn. “They don’t give a shit who we are.”
A small part of me hates that. What if Steve’s right? What if Blue Phoenix out of the spotlight, equals Blue Phoenix disappearing down the drain? Here I am creator of some of the biggest f-ucking songs in recent history and nobody cares; apart from Sara attached to my lap.
“Bryn, get me a beer,” I say.
“Nice try.”
“One?”
“I’ll get you one!” pipes up Sara.
“Don’t you f-ucking dare,” growls Bryn
Sara doesn’t look fazed. “Okay. I’ll get myself one.” She detaches herself and wanders out of the room.
“Why the hell is she still hanging around you?” Bryn asks.
“She’s a friend of the band’s, I think. Not sure, we didn’t talk much.”
“Mmm. Guess that’s a bit tricky when she’s got her mouth full.”
“Whatever, man.”
Before anyone comes over to me, or Sara gets back, I head to the back of the lounge room and squeeze through the tiny kitchen full of bodies toward the garden. Outside, white plastic chairs rest on the cracked pavers and I pull one into the shadows to sit on, trying to figure out why I came here tonight.
The cool summer evening chills my bare arms and I curse the fact I left my leather jacket back at the venue. Will it be there if I go back or is my jacket now the prized possession of a souvenir hunter? The smell of cigarette smoke drifts toward me from a couple in the corner of the garden. Out of all my addictions, this one proves the hardest to kick.
I stare at my combat boots, obsessing about asking for a smoke when the door to the house opens and someone slams it closed. Ruby flops herself against the wall of the house and drags a pack of cigarettes from her pocket.
“Can you move?” I ask her.
She peers through the darkness and pauses in her lighting of the cigarette. “Jem?”
“Yeah. Can you move away? You’re too tempting.”
“I am?” Her voice is quieter than usual, hand shaking as she lights, the orange glow of her cigarette indicating where she is.
“The smokes.” I indicate what I mean. Did Ruby again think I was hitting on her?
“Oh. Right. Weirdo.” A breath full of smoke heads my way.
“For f-uck’s sake,” I mutter.
“Where’s Sara?” she asks.
“Haven’t got a clue. Hopefully she’s found a new friend.”
Ruby snorts softly to herself. “I’ve lost a bet then.”
“What?”
“I bet Sara you’d f-uck her.”
“Why the hell do that?”
“No reason.”
I’m pissed off, wish I’d never touched the girl. “Do you think I’m some kind of man whore?”
“You tell me.”
“Think what you like, most people do.”
“I will.”
I’m tempted to walk away but this is the first time I’ve been alone with Ruby since the first night I saw the band. She’s not moving either.
“Where’s Dan?” I ask.
“Inside.”
“Wow, he let you out of his sight?”
“What the f-uck does that mean?”
So much. I want to tell her to get the hell away from him, that I’ve seen this too many times but I can’t get involved. Not again. My involvement is helping Ruby Riot on the path to success, then she might see the light and kick the guy to one side.
“I mean he’s possessive.”
We both know what I mean. I saw what he was doing and she continues to pretend I didn’t. “He loves me,” she says quietly.
This softly spoken girl in the dark is different to Ruby. Hidden in the shadows, she could be someone else. The girl beneath the persona.
“Can I ask you something?”
She blows smoke in my direction and I laugh at her attempt to get me to move. “Yeah, I might not answer though.”
“You said Ruby wasn’t your real name. What is it?”
The couple finishes smoking and head back into the house, door closing behind. She jerks her head round in alarm, but nobody else appears. We’re alone with the plastic chairs and rusting metal and glass table.
“Tuesday.”
“Your name is Tuesday?” I can’t help my incredulous tone.
“Yeah, but nobody calls me it and that includes you.”
“Your parents had some weird ideas then.”
She scoffs. “My mum. Ironic thing, I was born on a Thursday.”
I laugh and hear her giggle, too. “Sit with me?”
She drops the cigarette butt and hesitates. “I should go inside.”
“Why? Because of Dan?”
In response, Ruby drags a chair and sits opposite me, crossing her skinny legs. The light from the house casts across her face, her red-painted mouth, and the eyes that are the window to a place of hurt we share. She chews one of her short, black-painted nails and meets my scrutiny.
“You’re not what I expected,” she says. “Or you weren’t until you fucked Sara.”
“I didn’t, remember?”
“Only because Bryn interrupted.”
“What did you expect me to be, Ruby?”
“A condescending dick who’d have his hand up my skirt at the first opportunity.”
“I like the band. If I piss you off, I have to start looking all over again.”
“So this isn’t your natural respect for me?”
“Nope. I’m a condescending dick who preys on women.”
“You’re not.”
“Recently.” The turn of the conversation disturbs me and I shift in my chair. Two can play at this. “You’re not what I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
“A strong girl who wouldn’t let a dickhead screw her around.”
Ruby jumps to her feet and the light plastic chair falls over. “f-uck you!” she hisses.
“Wow. Okay. Sorry.” That escalated f-ucking quickly.
“You don’t know a thing about me!” she continues. “Don’t judge!”
And she’s back, the girl from the shadows gone. I stand too, blown away by the split second shift in mood. “Sure, whatever. But you can’t hide from what’s happening. Not forever.”
Ruby steps closer me, her height in the thick-soled boots places her close to my eye level. “None of your f-ucking business, Jem Jones.”
I want to grab Ruby’s shoulders and shake common sense in, pull her off the destructive path she’s on. Ruby’s glare softens to confusion and she briefly glances at my mouth before stepping back.
“Leave me alone,” she says quietly, and then heads back to the house.
As she opens the door and the light shines on her, Ruby’s frailty hits me. In her Ruby persona, the weakness is masked behind the attitude. I heave in a breath. I walked the destructive path and I know nobody can pull you off the road you’re destined to take; changing direction is a decision only she can make. I wish I knew who put Ruby on the path she’s on.
“Goodbye, Ruby Tuesday,” I sing softly to myself and laugh.