Page 7 of Wish You Knew
There was another guy waiting to be served. I stood next to him and patiently waited my turn. When the barman brought over his drinks - a pint and some kind of spirit with tonic - he handed over his card and slipped a hand in his pocket, pulling something out.
“What can I get you?” The second server appeared in front of me and all my attention transferred to her.
“Four beers, please.” I passed her my credit card. “Can we start a tab? Table 14?”
She glanced at my name, then up at me. “Sure thing, Mr Lincoln. Do you want anything to eat?”
I bit back a comment about eating her out. She was new and far too young for me, possibly college age. “Not tonight, thanks.” I smiled.
The guy next to me finally finished faffing with his drinks and pushed past me to get to his table. My gaze followed his path, landing on Rosie waiting at a table for him. I fought back the urge to go over to her. Now wasn’t the time. The Ken doll must have been the guy from the shoot. My heart burned at the thought of him being so close to her. Especially when she had been wearing next to nothing. Jealousy was a bitch and I wasn’t used to it.
“Here you go.” The server slid the glasses towards me. “If you want any more, give me a wave and I can provide table service.”
My dirty mind took her offer in completely the wrong way and I imagined her doing a table dance. I shook myself back to the present, politely said thank you and joined the others.
“Been a hell of a few weeks,” said Declan, draining a large portion of his beer.
“Great tour, though,” agreed Mat.
“If you don’t count the arrest,” added Bobby.
“Nothing to do with us. Total shit storm for Saff. She’s been through a lot.” I wasn’t proud of my behaviour. Pretending we were an item when she was totally loved up with Tris hadn’t been my best hour. I’d practically ruined their relationship. She had every right to hate me, yet despite everything which had happened between us, we had a strong friendship growing. Getting her to sing on the track had been a stroke of genius. Now we’d recorded it, it wouldn’t be long before the song soared up the charts.
“What’s next?” Mat leaned back in his chair. “There’sWasted By My Side, but that’s it. No new material. We’ve toured this album to death.”
We signed a three-album deal with Numb Records and had the first album out and selling ridiculously well, but so far, we had nothing set in stone for the second. We did have some studio time booked, but currently nothing concrete to play in it. In the current climate, having a long break between album releases wouldn’t be a good idea.
“We’ll have new material,” I said, confidently. “I’m going to my Mum’s house after the Brixton gig. No stress, no pressure, see what inspo hits.”
Mat sank a few mouthfuls of his pint. “And what about the rest of us?”
I shrugged. “Nothing stopping you working on stuff in preparation for our glorious return to the studio. I could do with a bit of a break, mate.” I swirled the last of my pint around in my glass. “Caned it a bit hard on tour.” It was only a slight understatement. Alcohol and cannabis were my main vices, although I’d also overindulged in coke. It was too easy to get hold of, and too effective at helping me maintain the high-intensity energy levels I needed to get through a gig.
Bobby and Declan nodded.
“Last thing we need is for you to end up in rehab. Didn’t do Richey Mason any harm, though. Blood Stone Riot’s new material is smoking.” Declan made a gun gesture with his hand.
Our label mates were indeed making an impression, in the same way as us. We hadn’t toured or played on the same bill as them, but maybe one day we would. Or maybe they could support us. It didn’t hurt to think big.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the guy Rosie was with approaching the bar again. Despite the server’s extremely kind offer to provide waitress service, I leaped up.
“Another round?” I gathered the empty glasses up. “Shots?”
“Thought you were toning it down, Scott?” laughed Mat.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” By the time I’d got to the bar, the guy had already been served and was putting the tonic into what I guessed was Rosie’s glass. She didn’t drink pints. I watched him slip a hand into his pocket and pull out a small bottle. Trying to mask his movements, he carefully shook a few drops into the glass and swished around the straw to mix it in.
“You okay, buddy?” he asked, finally noticing me observing him.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I hissed, my tone low.
The little prick was about to give a spiked drink to Rosie.
“Sometimes they need a little encouragement.” He winked. “Although you probably don’t need any help with women, right, Scott?”
How dare he use my name like we were friends. I would never do what he was about to do. Not ever.
I nearly punched him. A reactive response. But, having seen what had happened to Saff’s boyfriend recently, I didn’t need the trouble violence would bring. Instead, I swiped the glass from the bar onto the floor. It landed with a crash, shattering on the tiled floor and spilling the contents in a puddle around the smashed glass.
