Page 43 of Fake Rocks
There were some things I really didn’t want to share with my cousin. Like exactly how good Tris was in bed. I felt a flush creep over my skin.
“I like him, Jonas. We had a lot of fun. It was a nice, normal weekend.”
“Ah, music to my ears.” Jonas whirled around in his seat to face me, a big smile on his face. He wasn’t one to be happy about something—anything—so I wondered what had happened.Oh, the dating site was for him!
“Does that mean we still have a recording contract?”
“There’s still some concern because you don’t have any new music…”
“We will! You know I’m heading out to see the guys now.” I fumbled in my bag for my phone. “And you can listen to what Darren and I came up with last week. It’s raw, but I’m sure it will turn out okay.”
Jonas held up his hand. “It’s fine. I believe you, Saff. For once.” He paused. “I’ve got you a gig at The Windmill in Brixton Hill in a couple of weeks. One of the other bands on the label was meant to play there, but apparently, they’re taking a break or have split up or something. We didn’t want to lose the booking, so I suggested TheSB.”
My eyes widened.Two weeks to sort out new music? He had to be kidding.“Really? That soon?”
He held out his hands, palms open to me. “You know the alternative. Don’t let me down, Saff.”
The hustle and bustle of the Tube was the perfect backdrop for my muddled thoughts as I headed across town to meet the others. We’d booked Dean Street Studios in Soho for two weeks, again thanks to another band breaking up. It really did help to have a cousin in the business. There weren’t going to be any engineers there this week, but we knew we had to get several tracks in shape for at least an EP, so it would be all about creating the music and the lyrics. I felt like Darren and I had made a good start and hopefully the others would be on board too.
“You’re late,” the others chorused as I made my entrance.
They were lounging around on the sofas in the live room. Darren had already nabbed the guitar he wanted to use and was strumming a riff, which I recognised as the track we’d been working on.
“Ah, but I have news which is the reason I’m late.” I dropped to the floor and sat, cross-legged in front of them.
The three of them fixed me with expectant looks.
“We’ve got a gig in a couple of weeks.”
Each of their faces dropped at the realisation of the timeframe I’d given them.
“What? Where?”
“Tommo will never learn everything in that time!”
“When do we sleep?”
Their barrage of comments flew at me all at the same time.
I took a moment to think and reached into my bag for my tobacco tin. The focus of rolling a joint calmed me as each of them came up with reasons why we couldn’t do it. When their voices died down, I spoke. “Tommo doesn’t have to learn everything. We need new material. And we can put in a couple of covers too. It’ll be a half hour set, tops.
“Where is it?” asked Barney.
“The Windmill, Brixton.”
Darren let out a whistle through his teeth. “Could you find somewhere a little more, I don’t know, glamorous?”
I laughed. It was an odd venue, looking something like a cross between a pub and a community centre. But it had a good following and if Jonas had booked it for one of his other bands, it had to be decent. “Come on, a Tuesday night there? We’ll have the audience eating out of our hand.”
“Good point.”
It seemed like they were coming around to the idea.
Darren grabbed the joint from me and lit it. He inhaled deeply before passing it on to Barney. “We’d better start work then.”
24
Tris
