Page 33 of Marley
“Dude,” I shout as the smell hits me. “You have puke in your pubes. Not a good look man.Not. A. Good. Look.”
Milo shook his head as he left the bathroom. Len paced the confined space, raking his fingers through his dark hair while Maca continued to dry-heave. He and Maca were gonna have one fucked up day, that was for sure.
The photo shoot was being done in Lennon’s room and by the time I got Maca organised, we were twenty minutes late. Billy, Tom, the photographer, and two make-up artists, as well as a hairdresser, were already there, waiting impatiently.
Len had gone off to the airport to collect Jim, which was probably a good thing. It meant he didn’t get to witness our lead singer vomiting into a waste paper bin whilst having his make-up done.
We were only five minutes into the shoot when Maca has to vomit again. He looked like shit and probably felt worse. The snapper followed him into the bathroom and I panicked, afraid that he’s was going to call off the shoot. Instead, he pulled out a bag of coke and offered him some to help liven him up.
After borrowing Len’s toothbrush and downing a glass of water, along with a line up each nostril, we got our singer back. He still looked like shit, but at least he could keep his eyes open.
By the time the photographer wrapped things up, the TV crew was there, along with the two presenters, waiting to interview us for some U.S. afternoon chat show.
The presenters were called Gary and Lisa, who had a talk with us first about the way they’d like the interview to go. I personally didn’t give a fuck what they asked, but the label and Len had pretty strict guidelines, and what happened in Europe the previous summer was a definite off limits subject for any interviews. Luckily, Len got back before we went to air and made it clear that that topic would not be discussed.
Maca had spent most of the previous half hour in the toilet, and I had a feeling that he bought the rest of the coke the photographer had from him.
I caught Len turning to look at me, eyes wide and once again, looking like they were about to bulge out of his head. He twitched his nose like he was sniffing the air, just as the smell hit me.
“Fuck!” Billy and I said in unison.
I shook my head at Len and headed into his bedroom, banging on the door of the bathroom. Maca opened it and in an instant, the smell of weed almost knocked me down. He stood in the doorway with a shit-eating grin on his face.
“What the fuck, Maca? The people are here for this interview. You seriously need to get your shit together.” Even my patience was wearing thin at that point. Len must’ve been about to have a coronary and if he’d seen Maca’s glassy eyed expression, he probably would have.
I sprayed some of Lennon’s aftershave over Maca and lead him back out to the living area of the suite where everyone was set up and waiting for us.
We were directed to sit on the sofa; Tom on one end, Billy in the middle, Maca and I in the middle.
The interviewers started by introducing the show and talking through the day’s topics. The camera turned to us as they announced that we would be interviewed shortly.
The whole thing was a pain as we had to sit quietly while they talked to the camera, but were allowed to speak when the show cut and ran a pre-recorded piece to air.
I had to nudge Maca a couple of times when I saw his eyes start to close. He’s barely spoken a word the entire day, and I knew that he was not in a good place. Fuck if I knew how I was going to get him through rehearsals and show.
Lisa and Gary finally started their interview with us and asked the usual questions to start: How did we meet? How long had we been together? Then she asked us about our musical influences and what made us want to become musicians ourselves.
As usual, Billy and Tom kept their answers short, both explaining that it was all they’d ever wanted to do.
“And you, Marley. I understand your Dad’s a big music fan, and you, your brothers and sister, all have music related names. Can you tell me about that?” Lisa asked.
I was a little taken aback at first because we weren’t usually asked about our families. All anybody wanted to know about us was who we were dating, and when was the next song gonna be released. I suppose because the show went out to an older audience, they’d mixed it up a little to what we’re used to. I cleared my throat.
“Yeah, my dad’s a massive music fan. He loves all music and plays the guitar and piano pretty well himself. He always encouraged us as kids.”
“There’s four of you, right?” Gary asked next.
“Yeah. Bailey’s the eldest. He was named after some bloke that makes or designs guitars. I think my dad met him at some folk music festival or something back in the sixties, and I’m pretty sure that Bailey was his surname. Bails can play guitar, but doesn’t often. He runs the family building firm back in England with my dad. Lennon, my other brother, is our manager and I think his name, and mine, are both pretty self-explanatory.” I stop there, my eyes darting to Len’s, who was standing behind Lisa off camera.
“And you have a sister too, right?” Lisa continued.
Fuck.
“Yeah, my sister’s the youngest. She’s named after one of my dad’s favourite songs and singers.” I swallowed hard, hoping that I’d given them enough.
“Which is?” Gary asked, looking amused.
Lisa was leaning back in her seat, looking smug and I got goose bumps. Call it sixth sense or just an acute awareness of arseholes, but my guard went up with where this interview was going. I’d not looked at Maca once during their line of questioning. I could feel the heat radiating from him as he sat next to me, but other than that, he sat so still and quiet that I wouldn’t have known he was there.
