Page 34 of Crazy Love
“Cool it,” I warn him. None of us can afford to pay damages for broken hotel property.
“Cool it! Dammit, Nate, why the fuck is he still part of this band? And don’t you dare say you promised his mum. You did not fucking promise his mum. Watching out for him, isn’t the same as taping his arse to a bass guitar and hoping he’ll make sweet music. We can’t keep dealing with his screw ups.”
“It’s one screw up.”
“Of epic proportions. If he’s not with it…If we don’t play, that’s it. You realise that, don’t you. We have one shot with Graham Callahan. Just one.” He draws his fingers across his eyes to squeeze the bridge of his nose. “Why didn’t you come and find me when you realised he was like this?”
“Couldn’t exactly leave him, could I?”
“But you could have phoned, left a message. I’d have read a message.”
“Guess the one I sent saying, ‘I require your fucking assistance pronto,’ wasn’t explicit enough? Or didn’t you read that one?”
Joel turns away sheepishly for a couple of seconds. “If you’d put Knox is fucked, I’d have come.”
“Yeah, in your pants because you’re just looking for an excuse to get rid of him.”
“Damn right,” he shoots back at me. “You know why, Nate?” He shoves me into the brightly lit bathroom, and then tears back the shower curtain, tugging the rail right off the wall in the process. “This is why. This.” He points at Knox, who is currently a not too dissimilar shade of off-white to the toilet bowl. “He’s fuck all use to anyone. The only function he serves is to hold us all back. So I say fuck him.” He kicks the bath panel. “He’s about to cost us all our tickets to the big leagues. We had this. This tour was a cert, now because of him we’re going nowhere.”
I let Joel rant. There’s no sense in interrupting him. It’s not like I can refute what he’s saying.
“One of us ought to have kept a proper eye on him,” I say when he finally quietens a little.
Joel just shakes his head. “A babysitter isn’t the answer. The guy needs a brain transplant and some functioning balls.” He jabs Knox in the shoulder. “Wake up, dick brain.” The poke garners no response, prompting him to make the second jab a lot harder. “I said get up. Get the fuck up, Knox, you fucking wanker.” He tries to manhandle him out of the tub, by hooking his hands under Knox’s arms.
“Joel, stop it. Just stop it.” A damp, naked Knox splattered all over the floor isn’t going to improve the current situation.
I try and insert myself into the space between them, which earns me a smack in the face.
“Bastard,” I curse, staggering backwards, clutching my nose. I don’t think Joel’s done any real damage, but it still smarts. I blink, as multi-coloured blobs float before my eyes and my ears pound as if there’s a monkey pummelling the drums inside them. “For God’s sake, will you just leave him be? Mauling him isn’t going to fix anything.”
Joel curses some more, and his fists remain tightened.
“Really?” I say, raising my fists. “Do we need to duke this out?”
He looks at me, standing there stark bollock naked and gives a short dry laugh. “We are so screwed.” He sinks down on the spot and puts his head in his hands.
I sit too, with my back against vanity unit.
Today ought to have marked the biggest highlight in Paradise Kiss’s career. Instead, it’s likely to be the date of our demise.
“I should have known,” Joel mumbles into his palms. “The whole fame thing, touring, it was never actually going to happen. I don’t even know why I let myself believe.” The despair and resentment that bleeds into his words, makes me realise exactly how much hope he had riding on us making it. Knox has blown that for him and by association so have I. Joel and I might have been on opposing sides most of the night, but we’re still mates, and I hate seeing how torn up this is making him.
Of the four of us, Joel has the most outwardly normal background. Two parents, two and a half siblings, a nice family home in the suburbs. It’s just they’re all stark raving bonkers. His mum’s losing her mind to dementia, his dad’s lost a leg to diabetes and forgets to take his meds on a regular basis, and his older siblings both have Multiple Personality Disorders. The youngest, his step-sister, fled the country two years ago to traverse the Amazon basin. I know he wants this gig because he needs the money to buy in additional help, and move his parents to sheltered accommodation, but it’s not reason enough to destroy Knox.
The band is the only thing keeping him vaguely together.
“You could have solved everything, Nate. All you had to do was ask her. I mean explain it to me, how is it OK to shove your dick into her, but not to hand her a passport to success?”
I pull my knees up before me and rest my chin on them. “Maybe I don’t want to drag her into our shit.” I don’t have a sensible explanation. Nothing that’s happened tonight between me and Loveday has made the remotest bit of sense. I’m not sure I want it to.
“We don’t have anything to offer her, Joel. She doesn’t need to ride our coat tails, she’s talent by the bucket load, and Graham Callahan has offered Bitch Slap the exact same opportunity that he’s offered us. There’s no reason for her to band hop, and I won’t ask it of her, regardless of the situation with Knox.”
Joel shakes his head, over and over, as if he can’t actually stop. “That’s not true. What you’re saying about her having the same deal on the table that we do—it’s not. It might seem that way, but it really isn’t. I’ve been talking to one of Callahan’s assistants. He really wants us. He’s not even remotely serious about signing Bitch Slap, hell they’re not even a serious band. They only exist to piss your brother off. Anyway, this whole perform your best song at six thing is just a gimmick to test us.”
“Really?”
He nods.
