Page 61 of The Final Beat

“Please, Joey.”

As he took a deep breath and let his fingertips stroke my cheek, my heart stuttered. He watched me with a soft smile on his face and I wished that the moment could stretch to a lifetime but too much had gone before, and I shook my head. Joey’s hand dropped to his side, and he exhaled heavily, like he’d been holding it from the moment we’d stepped inside the room.

“You’d better go,” he whispered. “You’ve got stuff to do.”

I hesitated but eventually nodded. “Yeah, I do.”

My steps to the door were short and slow, not sure whether I truly wanted to leave, even though I knew it was for the best. Joey remained silent behind me, and I was sure he was finally giving up. That was why I jumped when I reached the door and felt his hand on my shoulder. I was shocked but didn’t turn back to face him. I couldn’t because if I did, I knew that I might never leave. I would end up letting myself be captured by his eyes.

“Just remember I’m not him, Daisy.” His mouth was close to my ear, his words sending shivers down my spine. “I would give you the world, not pain.”

Then he moved his hand to the door’s handle and opened it for me, and in silence I walked out of the room. There were only two sounds that I heard, the soft click of the door behind me and the cracking of my heart.

CHAPTER 27

JOEY

Watching your band from the side of the stage sucked great big, hairy, fucking balls. Watching someone else at your drumkit sucked great big, hairy, fucking balls in a wrinkly old nut sack. I had to do it for four performances. That was why I wasn’t watching the fifth one but playing pool, by myself, in the green room.

I liked Denny, he was a great drummer, and he’d picked everything up quickly. He wasn’t as good as me but had done himself proud. The shows were good but lacked the chemistry that the four of us together created. The chemistry that we’d had right from the start.

The other thing that pissed me off was that he was travelling on the road crew’s bus, withmyfucking Daisy. Our bus was full because Amber, Belle, Simone, and the kids were with us for a week. Denny was on the bus with her, and they were getting too fucking friendly for my liking. They’d even gone out for drinks together the night before. There were another twenty or so people with them but that didn’t matter. It had conjured up all sorts of crap in my head. Were they flirting? Was she attracted to him? Had she called him a cunt? Because if she had that would mean she wanted to have sex with him.

I could have gone with them but watching them would have been bloody torture. Besides which, we never went on the road crew night’s out. It was their opportunity to slag us off and complain about our demands to have perfectly tuned instruments and enough spare drumsticks to build a bonfire with. Which was another reason it felt dodgy that Denny had gone along.

“Oi,” a voice yelled from behind me.

I paused from taking my shot and stood up straight, turning to look over my shoulder. Ronnie was standing there rubbing a towel over his sweat-soaked hair.

“Shit, I hadn’t realised the time.” I placed the cue on the red baize and strode towards him. “How was it?”

I braced myself for him to tell me how fucking good Denny had been. Then I wanted to slap myself for being such a twat.

Ronnie shrugged. “Yeah, okay. He’s good but he’s not you.”

“Who?” I asked nonchalantly.

Ronnie laughed. “The guy selling the souvenir brochures.” He shook his head and walked towards me. “Denny, you dick, and you know it.”

“I can’t fucking help it,” I groaned. “I hate it.”

“Well, as long as your hand is alright you won’t have to worry about it again.” He nodded at my hand. “How is it?”

“Fine,” I replied, stretching my fingers. “No pain at all.” I wasn’t lying, there wasn’t any. It felt much better and there was only a small amount of yellowing bruising left.

“Good.” He leaned closer. “Got to be honest with you, I don’t think I could share the stage with him one more time.”

“You don’t have to say that, Ron.” I was laughing but nevertheless it was good to hear it. “But why?”

He grimaced. “I don’t know. There’s something about him. Bit of a big head.”

I didn’t know Denny well, but I did know he wasn’t a big head. Good old Ron trying to make me feel better.

“Good job that it’s his last gig, then. Anyway,” I said, slapping him on the shoulder. “Where’s everyone else?” I looked past him for the rest of the band and entourage.

“Elliot’s having a pee and Beau has rushed back to the hotel. Something he’s got to do.”

“What about the meet and greet? Are we doing it on our own?”

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