Page 30 of Real Rocks
“Can’t believe she pulls that look off every night, even though she can’t stand Scott,” Darren said.
I let out a hard breath. Her acting skills were fucking fantastic then. “Are you sure there is nothing going on?”
He turned to face me. “Honestly, Tris. They went out together once. The rest of the time she’s been with us. Oh, and Rosie came to Birmingham after that stupid ass post went viral.” He pulled a face. “Do you really think I’d let her go out with that prick over you? Mate, you have absolutely nothing to worry about.”
Even though both Saff and Darren had reassured me, as I observed the scene unfolding on stage, I wasn’t so sure.
19
Saff
When Scott’s hand snaked up my back, I was conscious of the fact Tris was watching us. I’d got into character each night and sang the song with the passion and intensity it deserved. It seemed Scott was an expert at misreading the situation.
Awkwardly, I pulled away, aware of Tris and Darren whispering to each other as they watched.
Scott’s mouth curled up into a sneer as he finished the rest of the song. I could feel him glaring at me as I swayed along to the beat, slightly less enthusiastically than I would during a usual show.
“Wait, stop!” Scott held up his hand and the rest of the band stopped playing. He turned to me. “What the fuck was that?”
I wrinkled my nose. “What do you mean?”
“That shit show of a performance. We want people to enjoy the song, love, not want to slit their wrists. We need to do it again.”
I bit back the words I wanted to say. Every night we’d done the song, we’d done it exactly the same way. No different. No better. No worse. Why was he chewing me out this time? I caught him surreptitiously stealing a look in Tris’ direction.
Jealousy.
Biting my lip, I checked the time. “Not sure we can, Scott. We need to sound check, and the doors will open soon.”
“I don’t give a fuck about your sound check. If you can’t even get this right, you may as well not bother singing tonight,” spat Scott.
Even from this distance, I could tell Tris was tensing up, ready to step in. The last thing I needed was for him and Scott to get into some sort of fight. Trying to keep my own temper in check, I calmly turned back to Scott.
“Okay, let’s go again.” I inclined my chin to the drummer, and he counted us in.
The song sounded exactly the same as it had the first time, better even, but Scott still wasn’t happy. He made us play it a further three times before he decreed he was satisfied. Each time, he tried to get close to me, but I pulled back. I knew what he was trying to prove—that he was better than Tris—but I wasn’t going to let him get to me.
“Enough, Scott,” called the sound engineer. “It’s fine.”
“Fine? I don’t want fine. I want absolute fucking perfection.” Scott stood with his hands on his hips, crotch thrust forward, breathing hard.
He was a complete dick.
“I need Saff and the guys to do a quick run through. Doors will be open in fifteen minutes.” The sound engineer raised his shoulders. “Gotta be done, sorry.”
“Whatever.” Scott dropped his mic to the floor with a clatter and stalked off stage.
I hovered at the edge of the stage while the roadies quickly assembled TheSB’s kit around Trash Gun’s. We rushed through in about five minutes, only able to check two songs properly.
Scott’s behaviour was selfish. We had as much right to sound check as Trash Gun did. I hated that his macho posturing could potentially ruin what was an important gig for us too. Sure, this was Trash Gun’s homecoming show, but we were playing our part.
Tris found me just before I was going backstage. “You’re pretty impressive, you know?” He drew me in for a kiss, deep and comforting, almost enough to make me forget about Scott’s behaviour. When his fingers started to stroke the back of my neck, I tensed and pulled away.
“You knew already though, didn’t you?” I teased, pretending his actions hadn’t affected me.
He nodded his head but said, “No.”
I aimed a punch at his arm, grinning. “Are you going to watch from backstage?”
