Page 49 of Marley
He drained his drink and tilted his bottle towards me.
“Let’s crack open the Bolli. Looks like we’ve got a wedding to go to, dude.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
1987 / 1988
The Christmas of 1987 turned out to be a bit of a disaster. We had an album and a single sitting at the number one spot on both sides of the Atlantic, and in seven other countries around the world.
Maca and I celebrated all night on Christmas Eve, and I turned up at my mum’s in a taxi, ten minutes after dinner was served. I was high as a kite, stinking of booze and perfume, and my family were far from impressed.
Any attempts at talking to George were blown out the window when she heard me telling Bailey about mine and Maca’s exploits from the night before.
My parents had moved from the house we were raised in and were now living in a beautiful barn conversion. My dad had added a soundproofed room out to the side of the property and I’d headed in there with Bails for a sneaky joint after our almost silent dinner. He had recently split up with Deb, his long term bitch of a girlfriend, and was living back at home with Mum and Dad.
The conversation started off innocently enough, with me asking Bailey how he was handling living back at home with the ‘rents at twenty-six.’
“It’s actually not as bad as you think. You know mum; clothes are washed, ironed, and hanging in my wardrobe a day after I leave them on my bathroom floor. Cooked breakfast ready for when I get up and my dinner’s waiting on the table every night when I get home from work. I’ve put on about five pounds since I’ve been here.” He rubbed his belly as he talked.
I was lying with my back pushed into a bean bag on the floor, my legs stretched out in front of me, crossed at the ankles. My back was to the door as I faced Bailey, who was lying up on the old leather chesterfield that had been in our family forever.
“But what about when you bring a bird back? What’s the ol’ dear have to say about that?” I asked him.
“Yeah, not gone there yet. It’s either been back to their place, or a quickie in the car. Why did ya think I drive a Land Rover?” He asked with a wink.
“Fuck that. I ain’t had a shag in a car since I was about sixteen.”
“Well, we’ve not all been lucky enough to have tits and arse handed to us on a plate like you have, Mr. Rock God,” he said with a smile.
I shrug my shoulders and laugh as I think about last night.
“Yeah, it’s fucked sometimes, mate. I’ll tell ya, women just don’t give a shit when you’re famous. They’re up for anything.”
“Like what?” He asked, passing me back the joint.
“Fucking hell, where do I start? We went to a club last night and got to chatting with these girls. Bought them a few drinks and next thing I know, they’re dragging me and Maca off to the toilets. One had her skirt up and was bending over the sink with her arse in the air as soon as we got in there. I didn’t even bother to take her knickers off, just pulled them to one side and fucked her from behind.”
“Hope you wrapped it up first?”
“Always, man, always.” I reassured him.
“Anyway, this leaves Maca with three other girls all over him. One drops to her knees and starts sucking him off while he sticks his fingers inside the other two...” I trailed off as Bailey looked wide-eyed over my shoulder.
My skin prickled as I turned my head. I already knew what I’d find.
Georgia was standing with the door held ajar. Her eyes were wide, her moth opened and closed, as if she was going to say something.
“George...” I called to her but before I could say anymore, she was gone.
“Fuck, fuck!” I repeat to anyone that wants to listen.
“I don’t think she heard what you were saying.” Bails tried to reassure me.
“Then why the fuck did she run away?” I questioned.
“Coz that’s what she does, Marls. She’s got a screw loose. Trying to get a word out of her these days is fucking impossible. She’s changed so much from how she used to be. It’s fucking heartbreaking to watch, mate, I’ll tell ya.”
I stood up and paced, unsure of what to do.
