Page 21 of Marley
Fucker.
“You’re spoiling your image as the dark and brooding member of the band, Maca. Fuck off, and stop trying to be funny.” I told him. He flipped me his middle finger and blew me a kiss.
I turn to Siobhan. “No, darling. In answer to your question, we don’t fuck each other. What you saw just then was us putting on a show. The girls love it. You loved it, right?” I asked.
“Fuck yeah.”
“Well, let’s move things along then. “You up for DP?”
“I just asked for the KY, didn’t I?” I liked this girl ... woman, actually. I kept forgetting that she’s was eight, nine years older than us. She knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to ask. Why couldn’t all women be like that? It’d leave them satisfied more often and make blokes lives so much easier.
“You fuck her, Marls, I’m happy with a blow job.” Maca said.
“You’ve not got a dose of anything, have you? I just had your dicks in my mouth, if there’s any chance you have, I need to know.”
“Sweetheart, despite what you might read about me, I’ve had just one girlfriend in the past few years.” He admits with a pissed off edge to his tone.
“Don’t mean you weren’t fucking other people.”
“I was only fucking her and she’s never fucked anyone but me.”
Okay, la, la, la. I didn’t need to be hearing this.
“So what? Me and what happened at the hotel in Paris, they’re just one-offs, are they?”
Maca reached out and grabbed her by the hair, pulling her face towards his. “I never fucked anyone in Paris, but because of the bullshit you and your mates printed about me and supposedly what happened, we’re no longer together. I’m now single, so whatever goes on here now, between us, it’s of no consequence to anyone.” He threw me a condom. “Now, you gonna suck my dick or what, Siobhan with a B?” He laid down on the bed as he asked.
We’re all silent just the sound of Annie Lennox, singing about angels, in the background.
I fought with Ash over giving our daughter that name because I didn’t want it tainted with the memory of that night, but if you’d ever tried to argue with Ashley about anything, then you’d understand why I always lose.
I watched as Maca started to stoke himself and I did the same before sliding the condom over my dick.
Siobhan leaned forward and wrapped her hand around his dick, while I reached around her body and with my middle finger, started rubbing circles over her clit.
“Move closer to him,” I said into her ear. I was kissing, licking, and dragging my teeth over the curve of her neck and across her shoulder. “Open your legs wider and lean forward.” She turned her head towards me. Her porcelain skin was flushed and her blue eyes were shining.
“I want you in my cunt.”
For a boy who was only nineteen, hearing those words caused me to nearly come all over her back, but instead, I pushed her face first onto Maca’s dick and rammed inside her from behind.
We saw Siobhan on a regular basis after that. Sometimes it’d just be me and her, sometimes just her and Maca. She brought her friend Julia along occasionally and all four of us would end up in bed together. Jules was a budding photographer, so as a thank you to them both for the no strings sex, we did an exclusive interview and photo shoot on our last day of recording at the studios. Jules went on to become one of the world’s biggest rock photographers, and Siobhan an editor of a celebrity magazine. Our paths crossed many times over the years, but our arrangement never lasted beyond that year and our meetings after that were always friendly and professional. Siobhan sadly died of ovarian cancer in 2010, and it’s the reason the UK’s biggest ovarian cancer charity receives a large donation from the Triple M event every year. Maca liked Siobhan, and I know he would’ve wanted money raised in his name to be sent in that direction.
Despite the album and a single from it being the UK’s Christmas number one, the actual day that year was horrible. I asked my parents if Maca could still come for dinner, same as he’d been doing since he was about fourteen, but they’d said no. My mum actually seemed surprised that he even wanted to because by that time, unknown to all of us, Haley the whore had already started to weave her web of deception and my mum truly believed he had moved on.
Maca refused to spend the day with his mum and her husband so instead, stayed alone at our flat, writing songs.
He gave me a gift for George before I left to go to my parents. It was odd, not waking up at their house on Christmas morning, but I just couldn’t face the atmosphere. The less time I spent around my sister, the less guilt I felt. The last time I’d seen George, she was painfully thin and looked almost drained of life. She spoke when spoken to, but treated me like I was invisible.
I slipped the present under the tree when I got there, not wanting to make a big deal of it in front of my parents. Later, when Jimmie, Len, and Bailey arrived, the last of the presents were given out but it wasn’t there. I found out years later. My mum had removed it and hidden it from George in case it would upset her. It was a silver bracelet with a G hanging from it, matching the necklace he’d bought her a few years before. When it came out that my mum had played a hand in keeping them apart all those years, she admitted that like the letters and everything else Maca had sent, she’d returned it with a note, once again asking him not to send her gifts or attempt to make contact. He finally took notice after that. My mum returning his Christmas gift was what made him stop sending the letters and parcels, but it didn’t stop him from buying her things or writing her letters, he just never sent them.
Georgia has a huge crate somewhere, full of Maca’s letters to her that were either never sent, or returned. It also contains his diaries that he always kept, the notepads he always had with him, and old video cassette tapes of interviews and performances where he either directly or indirectly mentioned her. There were music tapes of songs that we’d never heard, and songs that he wrote but never allowed anyone else to read or see.
Ash told me that after a few previous attempts, George has finally decide to start working through and cataloguing the contents of the old packing crate. I’m hoping that one day soon, she’ll want to share anything that’s relevant, but at the same time, I’ll totally respect her decision if she wants to keep it all private.
I sometimes wonder how Cam copes with it all. My sister is obviously head over heels in love with the bloke, but at the same time, we all know that nothing or no one would ever be able to replace Maca and what they had together. I think her and Cam work because he’s never tried to do that. Their love is different, much easier to be around, where George and Maca’s love was intense, bordering on obsessive. It was like they needed each other more than air. I don’t know how to describe it, really, but that’s how it came across as an outsider looking in.
All of this is probably going to get deleted from the book. It’s just my thoughts and really fuck all to do with anyone else. I’m writing it because it helps me sort shit out in my head. It helps me make sense of thoughts and feelings I had about certain situations back then, all these years later.
