Page 24 of The Interview
“Of course she did.” And there it is.
“Mac wasn’t interested, not even before, before him and G were a thing—officially a thing or whatever. He wasn’t interested. He didn’t like birds like that,” I recall. “She was a year or so older than us, aggressive in the way she flirted, overtly sexual if you like, and Maca? That just wasn’t his thing. He didn’t like birds like that.”
“Because he had taste,” G can’t help but add.
“In the end, she turned her attention to me. I knew what it was, what I was to her. She just wanted a way in, to be kept around. And I’m not gonna lie, she had a curvy little body, a pretty face, and she was funny.”
“Fucking hilarious,” Georgia quips, and I hear a snort from behind us.
As much as I don’t want them to, my lips twitch. “Anyway, I was young. She was never gonna be ‘the one’. I was never gonna take her home to meet the family, but she was up for it. The boys actually nicknamed her Martini. Any time, any place, anywhere. Blow jobs, a quick fuck, she was always willing, and I was happy to oblige.”
I pause as I think about how to phrase what I want to say next, hyperaware that my wife is in the room, right along with my brother and sister-in-law. The last thing in the world I would ever want to do is hurt Ash or cause tension between the four of us.
“Back then, Jimmie was always my goal,” I admit, not seeing, not feeling, but justknowingthat all eyes, except Georgia’s, are now on me. “It wasn’t that I was madly in love with her—love you, Jim, just not in that way,” I add for clarification. “I just assumed Sean would be with my sister, I’d end up with her best mate, and the four of us would live this mad, rock star life. When everything eventually came out that Jimmie and Len were a thing, I just felt this rage. I don’t know if it was borne of jealousy or what, but I was hurt, and I was angry. I felt like everyone thought of me as a joke, a fuck up, not worthy, and I’m not gonna lie, I became bitter.”
Realising my mouth is dry, I reach for the bottle of water strategically placed on the table in front of us to show off the label. It’s ours. Our brand. Because apparently now, amongst many other things, we produce bottled water.
Beforemyhand comes into contact with the bottle, another squeezes my shoulder. I know without looking, it’s Ash. I tilt my head up to look at her, and the most beautiful face in the world greets me with a smile as she hands me a glass of bourbon.
“I love you, Rock Star,” she says quietly.
“Love you, too, baby,” I reply.
Ash moves away, and the room remains silent. I take a sip of my drink, hold it in my mouth for a few seconds, tasting the smokiness, the sweetness, then swallow slowly as I savour the burn.
“I was a prick,” I state. “And the more money we made, the more accessible drugs and alcohol became, my level of prickish-ness grew.”
“Not a word,” George says from beside me. “Prickish-ness, it’s not a word.”
“Is now,” I reply, both hearing and feeling the little diva huff beside me. “We went from playing in the backrooms of pubs, charging a quid entry, selling demo tapes for a quid, barely making a hundred between the lot of us a week, to signing a two-album recording contract that offered a seventy/thirty split on profits and gave each of us a twenty-five-thousand-pound advance. Off the back of that, before we’d even released our first single, we were signed as support for the European leg of Kombat Rocks World Tour. When the first single released, we were catapulted into this whole new, insane world of stardom.”
I pause and take a sip of my drink as I recall how crazy life became when the single released. The screaming is what I remember most.
“We were on tour and had no concept of how big we’d blown up, apart from the way the crowds were reacting to us. More people were lining up and asking for photos and autographs at our soundchecks. The venues went from being half empty to almost full as soon as the doors opened, which isn’t usual for a support act. And the screaming… the screaming was fucking insane. Maca, he just took it in his stride. Billy and Tom as well. Me? I loved every fucking second. Lapped it up. It finally gave me purpose—validated my existence, if you like. It proved, to me anyway, that I was more than a piss take, more than a joke. All of this was fuelled by alcohol, cocaine, and a different bird wanting to ride my dick every fucking day. I thought I was king of the fucking world, until Rocco Taylor whispered a few words in my ear and blew that whole world apart.”
I feel my sister shift, tense maybe, beside me.
“What did he say?” Daniel asks.
“He started going on about Sean and Georgia’s relationship, saying it wasn’t good for the band’s image. It wasn’t what thepublic wanted to see. He went on about how young G was, that Maca would probably cheat, and all it would cause was agg.”
“Agg?” Dan questions.
“Agg. Agro. Trouble. Conflict between us,” I clarify. “He said that the sooner Mac realised he was better off letting her go, the better it’d be for the band. I didn’t really take much notice at first. He didn’t know them or how solid their relationship was. Then I fucked up a bit, missed a soundcheck. We played shit, Len was pissed off because the label was pissed off and told us to stay in our rooms, not drink, blah, blah, blah. Maca tried to call Georgia from our room, but the hotel staff refused to put his call through. They said they’d been ordered not to allow any calls. That was when Maca threatened to leave, to knock it all on the head and go home to Georgia. And that was when something Rocco said started playing on repeat in my head: ‘Your sister could be your band’s Yoko and fuck everything right up for you all’. Paranoia kicked in, and I started to listen to that slippery fucking weasel. I was angry at Len, cos fuck him for telling me what to do. Fuck him and his rules. I was the rock star. He’d be nothing without me, so fuck him and his bird, because obviously, I was still bitter about that. I’m not making excuses. I’m not blaming Len or Rocco. My actions were my actions, and I hold my hands up and take full responsibility for what happened in Paris. I was so fucking high, but I knew what I was encouraging Maca to do would break my sister’s heart. Right then, though, all I had was the band, and I wasn’t about to lose that for anyone.
“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry,” I say as I turn to my sister. “I had so many things bouncing around my brain, I thought if I could just get him to shag another bird, he’d see it my way and realise it’d be best to let you go. Let you finish school, go to college. In my head, I was thinking.They’ll be fine, they’ll just end it for a few years. George will finish college, we’ll be world famous, then they can get back together.”
I lick my lips and close my eyes in an attempt at ridding them of the tears the tingle in my nose is causing before looking back at Dan. “I had no idea how badly what happened next would destroy us all.”
“Which was?” he asks.
“They set us up.”
“They?”
“Rocco and Haley fucking White.” I pause, wondering how honest to be, then decide on that ol’ chestnut ‘in for a penny, in for a pound,’ and spew the words I’d been sitting on for too fucking long.
“He got us high as fuck—not sure how much of this will be usable, by the way,” I add. “Though most of it is public knowledge for anyone who wants to do some digging. Rocco wanted us off the tour. His aging ego couldn’t stand the fact that we were blowing up bigger than Kombat Rock. Our album and our single were at the top of the charts across the UK and Europe, and he hated that it wasusbeing invited on to every talk and radio show,uson the front of every newspaper. The problem was, my ego was even bigger than his, and I honestly thought he was just offering me some friendly advice when he started getting in my ear about Maca. I thought he was just being a mate when he supplied me with free drugs, when he encouraged me to invite Mac to the party. I thought we were living our best rock star life when he asked if we wanted to share his girlfriend.”
