Page 14 of The Final Beat

“I have another one but it’s in the city centre. There’s no parking and it’s a shared building, so it’s not ideal.”

“I like the idea of the farm.” I peered closer at the pictures. “Especially Ronnie's idea of rehearsal space.”

“We could build our own,” Beau suggested. “I met Luke Mahoney from Dirty Riches at a charity do last night and he was telling me that they did that.”

“Theirs is in the city centre isn’t it?” Ronnie asked.

“Yeah, but he said they managed to find an old office building with staff parking.” He shrugged. “He did say it cost them a huge amount of money to renovate it, but it meant they got exactly what they wanted. All top spec.”

“You think he’d let us go and have a look around?”

“Good, idea,” Ali said, smiling at golden balls Elliot.

“I have his number.” Beau tapped his phone which was on the table. “I’ll give him a call later.”

Everyone started to chat about the possibility of building our own studio, and I tried hard to feel excited about it. Unwanted thoughts about my dad kept invading my head, though. Emotions that I didn’t want were suffocating me. Trying to ignore my mum’s calls was bloody exhausting and I was almost ready to give in.

Then, as if to add to my misery, the door swung open and Destiny marched in. Underneath the black faux fur coat, which flowed in behind her, she was wearing shorts, a white vest that showed her black bra underneath, black lace tights and red Dr Martens. Bright red lips were pursed as she pushed up her huge black sunglasses.

“Can we make this quick,” she snapped, shrugging off her coat. “I’ve got a date.”

Instantly my spine stiffened. It had lengthened the moment she set foot through the door but at the mention of a date, it felt like it might snap.

“Dressed like that?” I asked and cocked my head on one side. “Interesting date.”

“No doubt,” she spat back. “Seeing as it won’t be with you.”

“I think you look lovely, Destiny,” Beau responded with a smirk, always the fucking creep.

“And I think you’re a fucking arse licker,” she replied and pulled out a chair.

I hid my amusement by taking a drink of water from the bottle in front of me. Brutal honesty was one of her better qualities.

Ali cleared her throat and raised an eyebrow. “Let’s get started and then Destiny can get on her date.”

There was that pinch again, but I chose to ignore it and relaxed back in my chair. I hooked my arm over the back and rested my ankle on the opposite knee. I was the epitome of cool and unaffected. On the outside at least. Just looking at Destiny, with her own air of ‘I don’t give a fuck’, created a storm of rage in the pit of my stomach.

As we discussed our short tour and whether we wanted to change the staging from the one we’d recently completed, my mind began wandering again. Mainly to Italy with my gaze occasionally wandering across the table. The anger was buildingwith each thought and as it did, I grew more and more desperate to leave. My input was minimal, and I couldn’t even get excited when Elliot suggested moving my kit to downstage right.

By the time we got to the set list, I’d really lost all interest. I needed to speak to my mum and find out more about my dad. I hated that I needed that. He didn’t deserve my attention, but it was pecking at my head. A constant tap, tap, tap.

“So, you’re happy with The First Chord?” Elliot asked Ronnie about the song he’d written.

He grinned. “It’s great. Amber loves it.”

Shit, another soppy love song about someone I knew but had no romantic connection with. You want to try looking a platonic female friend in the eye after you’ve harmonised about her beautiful eyes and amazing hair.

“What are you sneering at?” Destiny asked, curling her lip as she looked at me.

“Me?” I pointed at my chest with my thumb.

“He hates love songs that are about one of our girlfriends.” Beau chuckled. “It makes him uncomfortable.”

“Why, because he’s a narcissistic dick?” She pointedly turned to Ali. “Have you thought of doing all the girlfriend songs together. You could morph them into each other and then put a spotlight onto each singer.” She looked around the table at each of them in turn. “I assume that you’re each singing your own song.”

I scoffed. “You know what assuming does, Destiny.”

Ronnie snorted like a little kid because he knew I normally avoided any confrontation with her.

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