Page 29 of Fake Rocks
Instead of worrying any more about it, I turned my attention to Saff’s question.
“You and Jonas have an interesting relationship,” I began. “How did he get to be your manager?” I took a bite of the chicken sandwich. It was disappointing. The chicken was rather dry and there was barely any mayo, meaning it was practically tasteless.
Saff bit her lip. “He’s looked after me since I was twelve.”
“Really? You’ve been in the music business since then?”
She shook her head. “No. I mean he’s actually looked after me since then. My mother died, and I didn’t know my dad. To be honest, I’m not sure she did either. I think I was the product of a one-night stand she never saw again. Jonas is all the family I’ve ever had.”
Saff had lost her mother at the exact same age as I had.
The connection wasn’t lost on me.
An air of sadness and vulnerability fell over her as she wrapped her arms around her chest. It took me all of my willpower not to move over to her side of the table and gather her up.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to drag that up. You don’t have to say anything else.”
“It’s fine, I’m okay about it.” Her tone was light, but her eyes belied it. “And it’s only fair I tell you.”
“I get it, I really do.” Thinking of my own mum made me long to be eleven years old again. Back to a time when life had been carefree and innocent and I didn’t know anything of the shit time that was to come. “My mum passed away when I was twelve too.”
“Oh, Tris, I’m so sorry.” Saff’s hand snaked across the table again, gently touching mine and I was both comforted and turned on by her touch. “Was it sudden?”
“Car accident,” I managed, suddenly choking up. “She went out one night and didn’t come home.” The memories of that night came back to me with startling clarity. I remembered how my dad had broken the news to me with his usual care and tact. Was it any wonder I didn’t hold any respect for him?
Saff’s eyes filled with tears. “I think I might have preferred that to watching my mother get progressively sicker and weaker. Basically becoming a shell of the woman she once was.” She blinked hard. “Cancer’s a bitch.”
I gripped her hand a little bit tighter as we became lost in our own thoughts, no doubt thinking similar things. Sad though the connection was, it made me feel closer to Saff.
“How did you get into music then?” I asked, steering us away from our painful thoughts.
“It was my escape. I think my mum loved to sing too. Jonas showed me some pictures of her when they were teenagers, at open mic nights and in competitions before she got sick. Coming up with lyrics and tunes made me forget about what happened.”
I nodded. There had been times in the recent past where I would have given anything to be able to escape. But I didn’t sing or write, or create. I wished I could, it would certainly have helped with the excruciating boredom. Saff took a bite of her own sandwich and made a face, making me think her opinion of the food was the same as mine. “Jonas always worked in music. Even when he was a teenager, he was always scouting out bands in pubs and approaching record labels on their behalf. And I really did meet Darren and Barney at university and we formed a band. With Jonas’ contacts and our obvious talent.” She flung her hands in the air. “We were destined for amazing things. Here we are, three years after being signed and trying to work on the difficult second album.” She pushed her phone over to me. “You can listen to the stuff Darren and I were working on the other day if you like.”
I pulled out the jack of her headphones and put mine in its place. Firing up the app she’d used to record, Saff pressed play.
The quality of the recording wasn’t great, and I could barely make out her voice, but the song had definite potential. Her tone was spot on and Darren’s guitar playing didn’t overwhelm it.
“It’s pretty rough.” She played it down, although I could tell she was keen to hear my thoughts.
“It’s good.” I met her eyes. She was staring at me expectantly as if my opinion was important to her, like it mattered. I’d known her four days and already I was critiquing her new work. “And I like rough.”
Her mouth curled up into a smile. I couldn’t help staring at her lips, plump and glossy. For a fleeting moment I wondered what they would taste like. I had to stop thinking like that. This was simply a relationship of convenience. Nothing else.
The rest of the journey passed quickly. We exchanged tales about university, friends, other hobbies; real stories to find out more about each other. It was easy to talk about the past with Saff, but I was wary of bringing too much of my recent history into the conversation and deliberately kept it vague. She didn’t seem to notice when I batted things off or turned the questions on her.
Before long, we were walking up to the hotel. As we walked in, I felt the immediate disapproval of the receptionist who gave a cold glance in Saff’s direction. I realised she probably got treated badly by people who judged her on appearance alone. In the sleek, elegant, sophisticated lobby of the hotel, I’d say she stood out delightfully with her pink hair, leather jacket and biker boots. I’d put money on the fact if a reality TV star appeared in the same outfit, they’d be welcomed with open arms, not suspicion.
“Can I help you?” Her tone was as Arctic as her stare as she directed the question to me.
Saff took charge. “Yeah, hi. We’ve got a room booked in the name of Barnes. Two nights.”
The receptionist’s perfectly manicured fingernails tapped on her keyboard as she found the booking. As she read the information on the screen, her demeanour changed instantly.
“Ah, yes, Miss Barnes. You have one of the penthouse suites; let me get your key card for you.” She turned away for a moment, flicking through a box on the desk behind her.
“Money talks,” Saff whispered. “I knew Jonas’ PA had booked us something pretty special.” She gestured to the woman with her chin. “And that confirms it.”
