Yours Remotely

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 20

While I waited for autumn, I went out a lot and tried not to think about Gary. Although I managed to avoid gossip about his love life, there were gig reviews and some wild and some more credible stories from the band’s shows. There was speculation on how long the band would last and how well their next album would do. Alex’s short but passionate fling with a soap star made headlines, particularly when the relationship ended. After the album reached gold status in many European countries, the expectations for the band’s UK tour went up. There was a news piece about how Gary had turned into a diva when the plane chauffeuring them between Sweden and Germany had experienced a major delay, which had caused problems with the band’s festival slot. The Remotes’ press agent later explained that Gary had only been worried about their fans and that their set might have to be cut, but she also said that the band had played their intended setlist albeit three hours late. She added that Gary apologised for his behaviour although I found that hard to believe.

Soon after my long weekend in Venice with Sinead, I received an official-looking envelope in the post. It contained a concert ticket and a VIP pass with my name on it for a show in Mick’s hometown – my hometown. Handy, since it was a Thursday night.

* * *

I was the last to leave work. I said that I had some paperwork to do, but in reality, I only stayed behind to get changed and put some make-up on. The office was almost entirely in my use these days, except the odd visit from Keith checking in on us and those almost as rare occasions when someone popped in for more pens, till rolls or some of the phone accessories stored in the corner. I had organised it to suit me and had even hung a mirror on the wall. It had often come in handy when Linda and I headed out straight from work. The edges of the mirror were covered in notes, Post-Its and stickers, but it still showed a reflection; possibly the notes even falsified the image to suit me.

I got into a black, knee-length skirt and a turquoise top with black stars on it. The square neck revealed enough but not too much. I added some mascara and turquoise eyeshadow. I had recently been to the hairdresser, and my hair looked good in a dark-brown colour with a couple of blonde highlights.

The clock was ticking, and I had no time for further improvements. I rarely dressed up in my best clothes when going to gigs, but I rarely got to go backstage or spend a night with the band’s singer either. Gary had seen me in my pyjamas and without make-up before, but I wanted to look presentable.

When I arrived at the venue, there was a thick queue of excited fans snaking around the arena although the start of the show was at least two hours away. I had no idea what to do with my pass, so I asked the nearest security guard, who vaguely waved in the direction of the opposite side of the building. I ran into loads more young and teenage fans heading to the show, and at least one out of three already sported a The Remotes t-shirt. I had a distinct feeling of going in the wrong direction, but I was sure that I wasn’t supposed to walk in past the queues.

I finally found the back of the building, that – instead of a group of fans – was surrounded by a tall mesh fence. A few vehicles were parked in the yard, including an ambulance and a police car. Two serious-looking men stood behind the tightly shut gate and gave me suspicious stares as soon as I approached. They didn’t seem interested in anything I was saying, so I produced my VIP pass. They exchanged a bored look and with an inward sigh, opened the gate. One of them walked me to the door where he left me with a third man. He asked for my pass, my ticket and for a look inside my bag and then beckoned for a nearby female guard to come over. She gave me a quick patting, realising that my outfit could hide neither a knife nor a pistol or a bomb. Then the man who had checked my bag led me to yet another man who seemed a little more cheerful and escorted me inside and along the winding corridors until we got to a door guarded by another man. They exchanged a few words, and the man at the door pushed it open.

The room was full of people. Directly opposite me sat Jamie talking to two girls, and to the right of the door was a large group, on the edges of which I spotted Gary. He glanced towards the door and looked shocked upon seeing me.

I heard an annoyed voice next to me. “What’s she doing here?”

High above my head, I saw Biggo give the security men an unimpressed glare. They looked fearful and managed no reply. Biggo shook his head and lowered his voice further.

“She’s in the wrong place. She’s Gary’s…” Biggo glanced at me and then turned his annoyed glance back to the men. “Take her away from here.”

The man who had brought me in took my arm and practically pulled me back out of the room. When we continued down the corridor, I heard Biggo mutter some angry comments to the man who had stayed behind.

We reached a nervous-looking guard who opened yet another door to a much quieter room. On the table was a row of water and soft drink bottles next to a fruit basket and a pile of biscuits and crisps. In the right-hand corner stood a full clothes rack. I figured that I had arrived in the band’s dressing room, and I was amused by the band’s rider. Water and fruit were probably not on every rock band’s wish list.

I was more intrigued by the people in the room than by the rider. In the chair nearest to me sat a young bloke plucking a guitar. His short hair was dyed black, and he was dressed in black apart from a navy hoody hanging from his shoulders. He didn’t pay attention to my arrival but kept messing with his guitar. I found it hard not to stare at him. Apart from his dark and melancholy appearance, he reminded me of Gary. No, actually, his gloomy appearance made him more like Gary. Indifference was one of Gary’s most defining features.

In another chair sat a woman approximately my age. She had dark, shoulder-length hair that she twisted between her fingers while browsing through a magazine. She looked bored and uninterested in my arrival although she glanced up when the door opened.

The security guard left me to my own devices, and I sat down opposite the young man who reminded me of Gary. The only sound I could hear came from his guitar.

Perhaps 15 minutes passed. Nobody spoke, nobody came or went. I felt about as comfortable as in a dentist’s waiting room. That might actually have been preferable; I had been going to the same dentist for ten years.

Then, out of the blue, the door opened and Alex and Jamie walked in, laughing loudly. They waved a greeting at us but carried on towards the corner of the room where Alex pulled out his phone and showed something to Jamie. They laughed even more uproariously.

A few seconds later, Mick came in. He walked straight over to the woman reading the magazine and kissed her on the cheek. He sat down on the armrest and took her hand. The boredom left her face when she started quietly conversing with Mick.

After approximately another minute, loud voices approached the door. I recognised one of them as belonging to Gary. Although I couldn’t make out the words until he was right behind the door, I could tell that he was upset.

“Next time, check,” I heard him say just before he pushed the door open.

A silence descended when Gary arrived. Possibly it was a common reaction to his presence, but more than likely, nobody knew what to say when he was in bad form.

He wasn’t in bad form. He walked straight over to the guy sitting across from me and said something about his guitar playing that I wasn’t even close to understanding. Then he swung around and smiled at the sight of me.

“Lea. You look different.” He walked to the back of my chair and sunk his hands into my hair, which was shorter at the back and longer at the front. “Suits you.” He let his hand slide from my cheek to my neck before returning it to the backrest.

“Lea, this is my little brother, Steven. Steven, Lea.”

Steven nodded in my direction, barely looking up. The guitar he was holding was clearly more interesting than I was.

“I’ll be right back,” Gary said and left the room through another door.

Steven stopped playing, pulled the strap of the guitar over his head and put the instrument on the floor. Then he looked at me inquiringly. “Tell me, Lea, what a good-looking girl like you is doing with Gary.”

His blue-grey eyes seemed to drill right through me. For a moment, I didn’t know what to say. Gary had probably never mentioned me before. Of course Gary hadn’t mentioned me.

“The same as the rest of them,” I said, attempting a joke.

Steven grinned. “Well, that’s for sure.” He glanced at his hands and then looked back up at me. “You’re wasting your time.”

If he thought he had told me something new, he was very wrong; I knew Gary was a waste of my time.

“You could do so much better.”

I was about to ask if he meant himself but I didn’t get the chance.

“You mean yourself?” Gary said on my behalf.

Steven spread his arms.

“Find your own women, Steven.” Gary grabbed the nearest stool and sat down next to me. He noticed me looking at Mick and his lady friend.

“That’s Sheila. Mick and Sheila have been together for years. They met when they were 15. I can’t believe they’re still together even though it didn’t look good at one point.”

“Doesn’t this whole band thing bother her?” I asked. Could any woman be so trusting that it wouldn’t?

Gary shrugged. “She wants to be with Mick, so I suppose she doesn’t have a choice. Anyway, the way things are going, she’ll probably never have to work”.

Steven snorted. “I never see any of the money you make.”

“That’s because you’re young and need to learn how to manage money.”

Steven rolled his eyes. “You’re one to speak.” He turned to look at me. “Gary’s only two years older than me.”

“And at least five years smarter.”

“You never even learned a profession.”

“Neither did you.”

“Not yet, but I’m working on it.”

“I have a profession anyway,” Gary said and pointed at the guitar on the floor.

Steven looked dissatisfied. “Lea, tell him that being a rock star is not a profession.”

I looked to Gary for guidance.

“Lea, don’t say that it isn’t,” he said.

I laughed. “It’s not a profession with qualifications,” I said diplomatically. The brothers gave each other triumphant looks, not realising that neither of them had won.

There was a knock on the door that made everyone in the room jump. A competent-looking woman entered the room.

“The support act is about to go on stage in a few minutes. Time to start getting ready. You better go get your seats before it gets really busy,” she said with a glance at Steven, Sheila and me before vanishing back into the corridor.

Gary stood up, as did Mick after kissing Sheila goodbye. Jamie was eyeing the clothes rack with interest and picked up one item after another for a closer look.

“See you later,” Gary said and walked off towards the clothes. He didn’t even touch me, let alone kiss me.

“Let’s go,” Steven said and nudged me out the door.

Our seats were to the right of the stage in the second row. I had never heard of the support act before and hoped I never would again either. They got a lukewarm reception and a proper telling-off from Steven. Sheila was quiet.

The Remotes, on the other hand, made a dramatic entrance from somewhere underneath the stage, accompanied by a majestic intro, and started with an energetic rendition of ‘Liar’.

The show didn’t slow down for the next hour and a half. The Remotes didn’t waste time talking but went straight from one song to another. The highlight of the show was a medley of four cover songs. I marvelled at how well the songs gelled together and sounded so like The Remotes.

It was strange seeing Gary on stage. I had seen him perform before but not in front of a crowd this size. He belonged on stage. He looked relaxed and at peace, his unstable temperament mellowed out in its natural habitat. It worried me to see him that happy. Gary would never love any woman as much as he loved his audience. I swallowed the lump in my throat while waiting for the encore. It was no time or place to get emotional.

The band returned to play their biggest hit, ‘Rushing Forward’, as well as their latest single, ‘He Said She Said’. They left the stage to tremendous applause and shouts of ‘one more song’.

By the time Sheila, Steven and I escaped the throng and returned backstage, the band was already there and in laidback spirits. There were empty beer cans in the bin and on the floor, and Alex met us at the door with a can in one hand and a cigarette in the other hand. Drops of sweat glistened on his forehead, and he told us he was going out for a smoke and some fresh air.

Mick offered us a drink, but we all declined although for different reasons. Steven said he was driving, Sheila said she hated beer, and I said I had an early morning. Mick shrugged and took a good swig of his before wrapping his arm around Sheila’s shoulders.

Gary appeared from the corner of the room with a bottle of water in his hand. He was still in his stage clothes and smelled sweaty when he came over to me. I quickly realised that water wasn’t the only thing he had been drinking. He put his free hand on the hem of my skirt and raised it just enough to touch my bare skin. His other hand went to my shoulder, as if for support. He was clearly still wound-up after the gig.

“If only we were alone right now,” he whispered in my ear, “while the adrenaline is still running wild. You’ve no idea how much you’d enjoy it.”

He let go of me and moved over to his brother standing next to me. He put an arm around Steven’s shoulders and pretended to take him aside.

“Steven, take Lea to the hotel.” Then he said something so quietly that I couldn’t hear it. He let go of Steven and turned back to look at me.

“See you soon,” he said before going back to the corner of the room to his bandmates.

Steven sighed resignedly. “You heard the man. Come on.”

I followed Steven out the back door that I would never have found on my own. We were almost at the door when one of the security men ran after us, calling Steven.

“You’ll need this,” he said, holding out a key card for the Victoria Hotel. Steven grabbed it, barely said thanks and carried on towards the parked cars. He walked over to a silver Punto and opened the doors. I sat down and looked at Steven in surprise. Did the whole family drive Puntos?

“It’s Gary’s old one,” Steven said, guessing my thoughts. “Didn’t even bother getting me a new one although he spent a fortune on his Audi. Unbelievable.” He reversed his inherited vehicle swiftly out of its space and turned it towards the gate.

Once we joined up with the traffic leaving the arena and stopped at a roundabout, Steven glanced at me and my bare legs. I expected him to say something about the coolness of the night even though it hadn’t bothered me. He surprised me.

“You have beautiful legs.” He said it matter-of-factly, as if it was customary to give such compliments.

“Thank you,” I said with an embarrassed chuckle.

“You’re welcome.” He fitted the car into a gap in the traffic on the roundabout and shot towards the city centre. He drove like his brother.

“He should treat you better,” Steven continued while overtaking an old lady in her soap box. “You shouldn’t be sitting in this old car on your way back to the hotel. Gary can afford a limo, or at least a taxi. Or why not use his own ride?” Steven paused. “Gary is selfish. When I said you’re wasting your time, I meant it. My brother’s an i***t for not appreciating a good woman.” He glanced at me again. “Someone should just tell him that.”