Page 58 of The Final Beat

“Yes,” Laura replied. “Unbelievably, he was in Cork visiting family. He couldn’t have been happier when I called him, said his sister was ‘doing his fucking fruit in’.”

“Thank god she is, otherwise, he might have told us to get stuffed.”

Laura snorted a laugh. “Not with the amount we’re offering him.”

“Did you tell him it might be for longer than one night?” I asked, glancing at Joey who was wincing. The stupid idiot had refused pain relief from the triage nurse and had been grimacing for the last hour since we’d seen her. She wasn’t sure if it was broken, so he had to have it x-rayed but in the last ten minutes he’d been able to move two of his fingers which was promising.

“I did, and he can give us the rest of the tour if necessary.”

Hopefully, Joey hadn’t broken anything and would only be out of action for the Irish leg of the tour; three gigs including tonight. He was a pain in the bloody arse, but he had a massive chunk of the Warrior Creek following. Besides which, he was more talented than any other drummer I had ever seen or heard, and Warrior Creek wouldn’t sound the same without him. His beats were the glue that bound everything together. Not that I’d ever tell him that.

“That’s good. Get the contract drawn up and get legal to add a retainer section,” I glanced over at Joey, “in case dick head does himself more damage.”

“How did he do it, anyway?”

“No idea,” I lied because it wasn’t my place to tell her about his issues with his mum. I’d got that much out of him on the way to A&E. I don’t know why he didn’t just end the call as soon as she mentioned his dad. He knew those conversations never ended well. “He can move a couple of fingers so I’m hopeful he hasn’t broken it at least.”

“Oh well, keep me informed and Ryan will stand in for you at sound check, so don’t worry if you’re not back.”

“What did Ali say?” I asked, wondering how the others had taken the news.

“Not happy but she understands these things happen. Ronnie wanted to follow you down there. You know what he’s like. Worries about everything.”

As far as Joey went, he was right to be worried. I was bloody worried about him. All the business with his dad was too much for him. Then of course there was the huge row that we’d had—were having.

“Okay,” I said with a sigh. “I’ll keep you posted.”

Once Laura ended the call, I turned back to Joey. He had his head back, eyes closed, and legs stretched out in front of him. The personification of relaxed, yet he didn’t fool me. He was like an elastic band, stretched to the point of snapping.

“How’s the pain now?” I asked.

“Fine,” he muttered, keeping his eyes closed and wrapping his arms over his chest. “You find a drummer?”

“Yeah, we did. Denny Roberts.”

Joey nodded slowly. “Good choice. He’ll pick up the songs quickly.”

“We’re putting him on retainer from the rest of the tour, just in case.”

Joey’s eyes snapped open. “Is that necessary?”

I gave him an arched eyebrow. “It wouldn’t be if you hadn’t punched the fucking hotel wall, which you’re going to have to pay for by the way.”

“I explained why.” In one fluid motion he sat up and rested his elbows on his knees and turned his head to face me. “And I’ll be okay. We’ll only need him for tonight.”

“Let’s get your hand x-rayed first.” I shook my head in disbelief. “You really are a stupid prick.”

“No, I’m not. I was emotional.”

“You’re an emotional stupid prick.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Mr Bean.”

We both swivelled around to see a nurse with a clipboard, glancing around the waiting room. Joey stood up and nodded to her.

“That’s me.”

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