Page 36 of Refrain
“No.”
Having rocked forward, he claimed the new bottle from the hearth. “Nice. Bit peaty. Tried it yet?”
Spook gave a nod towards his abandoned glass. “You never gave me the chance.”
“Well, assuming you’ve another clean glass—”
Spook pulled one from the ancient dresser and gave it a polish with the hem of his T-shirt.
Xane did the honours. “Hellfest was shit without you. I had to drag Ric off his island and all the way to France. Reckon he’ll still be cursing me in 2050.”
They clinked their glasses together.
“You got Ric to play for Black Halo?” Ric had been part of the band in its infancy, before it became the entity that had scored a recording contract. Ric, Xane, Steve Matlock, and his sister Jilly.
Xane briefly hitched his shoulders. “We were kind of stuck. There didn’t seem to be any alternative. Having already pulled out of Download, we didn’t want to have to… You get it. Anyway” —he wrinkled his nose— “it felt all wrong. Ronnie stepped in to play keys, but…” He shook his head.
Spook nodded and mumbled another apology.
“We’re still courting him,” Xane continued. “I’m not sure if he’ll bite. His solo album’s already gone platinum. I reckon it’ll hit double platinum by the end of the year.”
“Wow!” Spook found a smile for Captain Bubblebutt, who he liked well enough. His music was more pop orientated than his usual preference, but there was no disputing the man had some cracking tunes. On the flip side, Ronnie had contributed to the drama that led to him retreating to the Highlands.
It hadn’t really been Ronnie’s fault though. Marhsall Hutton had been the interviewer, and that bastard had had a specific agenda.
“Are he and Paul still pally?”
Xane downed his whisky and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Held his glass out for a refill. Spook downed the contents of his own glass, then topped them both up.
“Oh, yeah. They have major musical boners for one another or something… There’s someone else you know who’s been on that tour too.”
He knew exactly who Xane meant and was infinitely grateful that he hadn’t said her name. He wasn’t ready to hear it. The shock of Xane’s appearance and talk of the band was still abrading him. Yet, he was also straining towards him, eager for more titbits of gossip from his former life. He’d been so fanatically avoiding thinking about the band since he’d washed up in this land of mountains and shadows that he hadn’t realised how starved he was for news of them. They’d been his world for nigh on a decade. When he’d severed the ties between them, he’d striven not to look back. What good would come of doing so? It was over. There was no reset button. It was madness to even contemplate the possibility.
“Have you started recording the new album yet?”
That query sparked a massive grin. Xane flicked his lip piercing with his tongue, causing it to rotate. “Have we, hell? I ain’t doing it without you, Spook. We have a system, you know that. I’m not sure the magic’s going to work if we try and mix it up.”
“It could be the best thing—”
“There is no thing. Not without you.”
“Don’t,” he warned.Don’t make me want it.Like he’d ever stopped. “Is that why you’re here? If it is, you’ve wasted your time.” The pair of them had often written together. Sure, Xane was responsible for the majority of the lyrics, but when it came to the music, that was a collaborative affair, an open dialogue. They’d go back and forth refining the initial form Xane heard in his mind and pinning it down on paper, resolving it into its separate parts, adding flourishes so that they had a solid demo before they took it to the rest of the guys for them to add in their own signature quirks. “Xane, I can’t be part of Black Halo anymore. You know that. It’s why I sent my resignation. It just won’t work if I’m involved.”
He’d done his best to stay clear of the internet or any form of news outlet, but that didn’t mean the occasional piece hadn’t slid before his eyeballs. He’d seen the headlines on the Metro on his train ride north. Foolishly allowed himself to read more. “Spook Mortensen: sadist, psychopath, serial rapist, formerly of goth rock masters, Black Halo,” he quoted. “There’s no coming back from that.” He was barely one step up from that absolutely twisted bastard from the Lost Prophets. “If I’m with you, you’ll never sell another fucking record.”
“You’re wrong. You’re so fucking wrong it hurts.” Xane rocked forward and held the chair at the top of its arc. “Bang!owes us three million.”
“What?” He was obliged to shake his head in order to clear his ears, certain he couldn’t have heard Xane correctly.
“Did you really think I was going to sit back and let those bastards sink us? The world knows the truth, Spook. Matter of fact, they knew it within days of the damn bullshit article. The difference now is that a judge has confirmed it. I hope the sleazy buggers are choking over the hit to their profits. The stakeholders sure as hell won’t like it. I imagine we’ll see some layoffs in the coming weeks, a bit of a pivot in direction.”
“You went to court?”
“Defamation’s a serious matter.”
Sometimes he forgot Xane’s family background. That he sometimes existed in a parallel universe to the one Black Halo occupied, in which he was every bit the posh boy diplomat’s son, capable, articulate… ruthless.
“When did this happen?”
