Page 87 of Going Solo

In a surprise music drop, the Go Tos last night released their first album since Cole Kennedy’s unexpected exit.

The band announced the release of “Sunkissed and Barefoot” on social media at midnight U.K. time, causing a frenzy of excitement amongst the band’s loyal fans, the Extremes. By midnight West Coast U.S. time, the album had been streamed forty-nine million times.

It is the band’s ninth album, and the first in four years without any songs written by Kennedy.

Band member Yoshi Kawaguchi said on social media: “This album has been a real labour of love for the four of us. We’re so happy to share it with you. It might be our best work yet! If a Californian summer was a sound, ‘Sunkissed and Barefoot’ would be it. Peace out.”

The band’s label, Totally Records, said the album was recorded at the famous Sound City Studios in Los Angeles this spring and embraced “a more trans-Atlantic vibe” than previous musical outings.

The real question on every music fan’s lips now is, Will the Go Tos knock Cole Kennedy’s “The Flame” off the top of the charts?

Davinder Singh

ChapterThirty-Five

Something wet and slimy landed on my face, waking me from a deep and restful sleep. I slapped my hand to my cheek, wiping away some kind of goo. Confused, I opened my eyes slowly against the blistering white light of the morning.

“Holy shit, that’s a cow!” I said, scrambling across to the far end of the bed. The huge caramel-coloured animal had stuck its entire head through the open window above the bed and was stood there, chewing and drooling and having a good peek. Cole’s bare round arse, uncovered when I took the bedding with me, slowly disappeared underneath him as he rolled over. The splendid nakedness of him was breathtaking. You could have painted this scene, stuck it on the wall in the National Gallery, and claimed it was some obscure Greek myth.

“Morning, Genevieve,” Cole said, reaching a hand up and scratching the gigantic beast under its chin.

“Thisis Genevieve?”

“She most certainly is.” Cole stretched himself out, letting every muscle in his body tense, his plump morning cock rolling from side to side as he yawned.

“You wrote that whole song about acow?”

“I’ll have you know, she’s an incredibly special cow.”

“How?”

“For starters, she could have paid for the big house ten times over.” Cole reached a hand down to scoop up his underpants. “She’s the second-richest cow in England.”

“Second?”

“After Felicity.”

“Fair.”

“And I raised Genevieve myself,” he said, hooking the pants over his feet and sliding them up his legs. “Her mum died when she was born, and I bottle-fed her from day one.”

Cole tucked everything neatly away, then got up onto his knees and buried his face in the cow’s neck, scratching her all over her head. I don’t speak cow, but I knew exactly what it felt like to have Cole Kennedy’s hands all over your body. Genevieve’s head whipped around in ecstasy, her horns slicing through the air. I was well beyond their reach, but I crept further back. Cole didn’t seem bothered at all. Slobber flew everywhere. I grabbed my underpants from the floor and put them on before drool could land on them.

“Waking up to your sad brown eyes,” I said, recalling the lyrics to Cole’s biggest hit. “Making time for long goodbyes. Oh, Genevieve, you know I have to leave. Oh, Genevieve, you know I have to leave. Oh, Genevieve, I wish I could stay. But life don’t work that way.” I laughed. “I can’t believe you wrote that song about leaving your cow!”

“Don’t listen to him, Genevieve, he’s jealous.”

“How have you never told this story in public before? All those chat shows. This never came up.”

“I would never kiss and tell,” Cole said.

I shook my head. “Even Graham Norton didn’t get this story out of you.”

“That song means too much to too many people.”

I thought of Iona, in hospital in Glasgow, and wondered how she was doing.

“I’m going to make coffee now, Genevieve,” Cole said. “It’s lovely to see you. Thanks for coming to say hello. I love you!”

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