Page 18 of Wish You Knew
“Do you think you’ll go back out on tour again?”
She contemplated the question. “Given the mess we got into with Trash Gun, I think we’ll be looking to do something low key, maybe on our own. I can’t see Jonas rushing us back into high profile stuff, let alone the record company. And I don’t need them freaking out again.”
“What about if Scott wanted you to support them?” I don’t know why I felt compelled to bring him up again. It was almost as if should I stop talking about him, he wouldn’t exist.
“Nah, I think that ship’s sailed. We got all the publicity aroundWasted By My Sidedone, it’s been released now. There’s nothing else to do now except watch the royalties roll in.” Saff laughed. “Ironic I’ll probably make as much from that collaboration as I would with TheSB.”
We decided to share a dessert and carried on chatting shit for another hour. It wasn’t often we got to have gossip filled, girlie nights out and I was grateful for the distraction.
It was shortly after midnight when I finally rolled into my house.
I flopped down onto the sofa and switched on the television, flipping through the music channels until I found something to hold my attention.
When the original version ofWasted By My Sidecame on, I was transfixed, unable to tear my eyes off the screen. A younger version of Scott filled the picture, his mouth forming the words of the song. I turned up the volume, his voice blowing up the room. Lost in the moment, I stared at him, wishing I knew where we really stood.
9
Scott
After the headliners had finished playing, they invited me to an afterparty, which began in the dressing room. Their rider was spectacularly loaded with beer, whisky, weed, coke. Whoever had sorted them out had done a great job.
I helped myself to whisky and a joint and then slumped down on one of the low sofas against the wall. Fishing a lighter from my pocket, I lit the joint and observed the activity around me, blowing a plume of smoke up into the air.
Trash Gun after parties had a tendency to get out of control, but this was another level. The band, much harder and with more metal bias than us, clearly had a different class of fan. Out of the corner of my eye, I clocked the lead singer with a Sharpie signing the enormous tits of a bleached blonde.
“You hanging around long?” A black-haired woman, all curves and excess make-up, sidled over to me and sat down beside me. And when I say next to me, I actually mean practically in my lap. She sipped seductively from a bottle of beer, watching me through hooded lids.
“Probably.” I shrugged. “Nowhere else to be.”
Her mouth curved into a smile. “Good to know. I saw your set earlier. Very impressive.” Her gaze moved between my legs, an eyebrow arching.
I sucked in a breath. Was this what I really wanted? A one nighter with someone who only seemed interested in one thing? I squeezed my eyes shut. It was my usual modus operandi, who was I to judge?
“Hey, Scott.” Mat’s voice broke through the white noise in the room.
My eyelids flew open to see his look of disapproval at my current state.
“We’re heading off. Are you coming?” His eyes flicked between me and the woman.
She gripped my thigh. Her fingers, topped with particularly dangerous looking nails, edged their way towards my crotch. I shifted uncomfortably, not wanting Mat to witness what might happen next. I grasped her wrist, stopping whatever she was about to do, not needing an audience.
“Nah, I think I’m going to stay here a bit longer.” I exhaled in his direction, watching his nose wrinkle at the smell. “Catch you later, yeah?”
“Be careful, Scott.” His tone had a hard edge. “Make sure you don’t end up in the gossip columns again.”
My hand grazed the base of the woman’s spine. “You got it. I’m sure I can find someone to keep me on the straight and narrow.”
The woman giggled and adjusted her position, almost straddling me.
Mat huffed, his eyes narrowing as the scene unfolded in front of him. “Whatever,” he sighed, before turning on his heel and stalking out of the room.
“Who was that? Your minder?”
If she really had watched the set earlier, she would have known Mat was the one dropping the bass lines to our songs. Unless, of course, she only had eyes for me. I laughed out loud.
“What’s your name?” I asked. If she was going to suck my dick at some point that night, I felt I ought to know.
“Talia.”
