Page 2 of Fake Rocks
“What do you mean?” My brows knitted together, increasing the pressure headache I already had.
“You need new music. TheSB can’t survive on the basis of one album. Oneoldalbum. And the reputation of its lead singer needs a little,refreshing, shall we say?”
I twisted a strand of my pink hair around my finger at his statement. “Dye my hair, change my clothes, cover my tats? Tone it down. That sort of thing?” I fluttered my eyelashes at him, hoping I’d misunderstood.
“It would be a start.”
The sombre tone accompanying his words stopped me in my tracks. “You’re kidding? You really want me to do all of that?”
Jonas placed his paper down on the table and let out a hard breath. “Maybe not all of it. The music would be a start though. As would not going out every night, partying and ending up on the front page of theInformer,” he paused, “Maybe you could get a steady boyfriend?”
The laugh came out of my mouth before I could stop it. “Jonas, you’ve got to be joking. I don’t do relationships.”
“More’s the pity.”
“And you’re one to talk. When was the last time you had sex?”
“We’re not talking about me; we’re talking about you.” A flush crept up the side of Jonas’ neck and instantly, I knew it had been recently.
Jonas’ relationships were almost as sporadic as mine, although we both enjoyed the physical side. One of his most recent conquests had been one of the interns at the record company. I’d come downstairs one morning to find a guy closer to my age than Jonas’ standing at the cooker hob, naked except for an apron, cooking breakfast. It wasn’t the first time I’d found someone in the kitchen and I’m sure it wouldn’t be the last. As a thirteen-year-old, I’d bunked off school to go shopping with a friend and had come home earlier than I usually would. I’d found Jonas lying on the sofa while another man licked his penis. I can’t remember now which of us was the most shocked, but I hadn’t seen the guy since. From that point on, there seemed little point Jonas shielding me from his choice of lifestyle.
It had certainly been an education growing up with Jonas.
I pulled my legs up onto the chair and crossed them, examining the chipped nail polish on my toenails. It reminded me to message Rosie to get us a pedicure at the new salon she had been banging on about.
“Okay, I guess I could try.” I screwed up my face. “Although I have no idea where I’m going to meet aniceboy.”
“Why don’t you get Rosie to set you up with one of her friends?”
Rosie, my best friend and a model, moved in some seriously wealthy circles. Any of her male friends would be freaked out by the sight of me: pink hair growing out to dark roots, a nose ring, a smattering of tattoos, and clothes not by any designer or even any high street store. How the hell Rosie Tatton and I were still friends was a mystery to everyone but us. We still hung out, although less so these days. We were due to do an interview and shoot together in the next week or so. One of those ‘opposites attract’ kind of features which really highlighted the differences between us, but still showed us off to be inseparable besties. I knew Jonas really didn’t want me to fuck that one up.
“Yeah, I guess I’ll ask her when I see her next,” I conceded.
“And you’ll contact Darren and Barney about new TheSB music?” Jonas’ expression was hopeful. “Even if it’s just to jam some of the old stuff? Maybe audition for a permanent drummer?”
The thought of making new music was appealing.
The thought of an army of builders traipsing through my house for the next few weeks, not so much.
Maybe music was the excuse I needed to get out of the house.
2
Tris
When the alarm went off shortly after six am on Monday morning, I woke with a jolt. For a moment, I almost forgot where I was as I lay in the comfortable bed with the smell of burned toast wafting up the stairs. It was blissfully quiet. Calm, subdued silence, bar the birdsong from outside. It was a total one eighty from how I’d woken up each morning over the past three months.
Sneaking a hand under the covers, I pinched my upper arm to be sure. The sore spot I managed to give myself confirmed it. I definitely wasn’t dreaming.
“Tris? You awake yet? Your aunt’s making us a full English to set us up for the day.” Uncle Col called out. “We’ll need to get going soon.”
“I’ll grab a quick shower, then I’ll be down,” I called back. “Gimme five minutes.”
“Don’t be long. I don’t want to fight the traffic.”
I threw back the duvet and jumped out of bed, enthusiasm running through my veins. The novelty of not having to wait for a shower hadn’t quite worn off, but I was an expert in getting ready quick. In less than the five minutes I’d told my uncle; I was clean, dressed and in the kitchen inhaling the aroma of a good fried breakfast.
“You look nice.” Aunt Annie shovelled bacon, eggs, sausages, tomatoes, mushrooms and even a hash brown onto my plate.
