Page 53 of Marley
“Marley, just shut the fuck up and listen before I slap ya,” he snapped.
“Just you try it, motherfucker. I’m not twelve anymore.”
“Dudes, where’s the love? We’re all brothers here, so let’s play nice.” Maca interrupted. “Len, get the fuck on with it, will ya? And you, shut it.”
“Kombat Rock are done—washed up old junkies that nobody wants to listen to anymore. The label’s plan was to get them supporting you on this four-city tour of the US you’resupposedto be doing.” Len looked at me as he emphasised the word ‘supposed.’
“That would hopefully bring them the publicity that they need to relaunch their careers. Apparently, Rocco is fresh out of rehab and has been writing again. Anyway, the idea was put to him and he’s thrown a hissy fit, saying that he wants double headlining act for KR, alongside Carnage. Obviously, I’ve said no way is that happening, and used it as my excuse to pull youfromthe tour.” He looked at me again, driving his statement home.
“I’m gonna knock you the fuck out you keep on.” I told him.
“Please, little brother, we all know that’ll never happen.”
“Get on with it.” Maca jumped in, wanting to hear the rest.
“Anyway, Jim’s been on the phone with Alix from the KR’s management team all week and she’s telling Jim that no one likes Rocco, and she can’t believe the label would even consider putting them alongside Carnage after what he did to you two boys.”
Maca and I turned and looked at each other at the exact same moment. We shrugged and turned back to Len.
“He set you up, boys, the whole thing with Haley White. He deliberately gave you the gear to get you off your nuts, plotted with her to get you back to your room, and for her to cry rape. The fact that you allowed him in the room with a camera was just an added bonus for him.”
What the fuck?
My mouth opened and closed a few times, but no words came out as I looked at Maca.
“Well, we always knew it was his photos that ended up in the papers.” Maca said before draining his glass.
“But why the rape allegations? What was that all about?” I asked.
“He thought it’d get you kicked off the tour.” Len admitted.
“Fucker,” Maca said through gritted teeth.
Len tops up our glasses again.
“Is there no way we can use this to bring charges against the pair of them?” I was curious.
“No. No fucking way am I having all of that dragged through the courts.” Maca jumped in, guns blazing.
“What they did...” He took a few deep breaths, trying to compose himself. “That pair of cunts ruined mine and your sister’s lives. I’ll find a way to make them pay, but it won’t be done publicly. There’s no way I’m having all the details of what went on that day dragged through the courts and made public. G’s been through enough—I’ve been through enough. No more. No fucking more.”
I throw myself back in my chair like a sulky child, but frustration was my driving force, not sulkiness.
“I mean it, Marls. We’ll get that fucker, but not in a way that’s gonna hurt Georgia.” Maca reiterated to me.
“Yes, Mac, I fucking heard you the first time.”
“We’ll get him. Don’t you worry, boys. We’ll find a way and we’ll get him.” Len reassured us. “I’ll call in every favour that I can and he won’t see it coming.”
Not long after that, we left, leaving Len with a video of an advert we’d just filmed in Japan for an energy drink. We headed home, and I was feeling a little less pissed off, thanks to the bottle and half of bourbon we’d consumed.
Within the month, Kombat Rock had been dropped by our label. A plagiarism charge had been brought against them for some song they’d claimed to have written in the early eighties and Rocco Taylor’s Hollywood mansion had been raided, where an ‘undisclosed’ quantity of class A drugs had been discovered.
Did I mention that I loved my big brother Lennon?
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
1988 / 1989
