Page 82 of Dirty Rock

It was like someone had injected my veins with inspiration, and I couldn’t stop.

Not even when it was time for us to hit the rehearsal studios and get back with the band. The cocoon we had created for ourselves was about to be broken open, and something about the real world meeting our hotel world made me nervous.

I wasn’t sure I could hide what I felt for her among our friends.

I wasn’t sure I could hide it from anyone.

Not even strangers in the street.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

We decided to turn up to the rehearsal studios separately.

I went ahead of Jules, arriving there an entire three hours before she would make her grand entrance. She left me to go back to her home on Mersea Island to pack properly. To make herself look like the publicist she needed to be, instead of the woman who’d been rolling around in my bedsheets.

Midnight Ultra Studios were situated in Camden. I arrived on time, waltzing into the place like it wasn’t a surprise to everyone that I was doing what I’d been told to do by Dicky.

I had a spring in my step.

I also had a wad of lyrics in my black rucksack that hung loosely off my shoulder as I wedged an unlit cigarette in my lips and greeted the boys. I walked over to Presley who was sitting on a well-used, black leather couch, one leg propped over the other knee as he looked up at me smugly.

With a chuck of my chin, I gave him a smile of greeting and held out my hand. “Pretty boy, I’ve missed you.”

He took it, slapping his palm to mine, and with a grunt, I helped him stand until he had me in some kind of man hug. A few slaps to my back, and he pushed his hand through his long, loose blonde hair.

“Who’d have thought a week away from you would be hard work, huh, Rhett?” He smirked, folding his muscly arms over his white T-shirt.He was like a living Ken Doll. A Kerrang! special edition model. “Missed your ugly face.”

“I always knew you loved me.”

Presley scanned me from head to toe, a look of suspicion in his eyes. Before he could say anything, I looked around the room.

“No Tess?”

“She’s busy.”

“Becoming an Instagram sensation.”

“Nope,” he said, his grin growing smugger. “She’s house hunting.”

“So, it’s serious then, this thing between you both?”

“The marriage proposal not give that away at all, buddy?”

“Oh, shit, yeah. Forgot about that.”

“Nice to know it matters.”

“Honestly couldn’t give a shit, mate,” I said, laughing and slapping him on the arm.

Presley took it in good humour for the most part until he leaned closer so the other guys in the room couldn’t hear him, and he whispered in my ear, “Don’t let Tess hear you say that. She’s got big plans for you. Despite what you think, you mean a lot to her. Let’s pretend you do give a shit when she asks a favour of you.”

He straightened himself up and headed towards Coops, D, and Hawk who were all tuning up their equipment, a bottle of beer not far from each of them already.

I had no idea what Presley meant, so I dumped my bag on the coffee table between the two black sofas, tucked my unused cigarette behind my ear, and I got involved in life among the band again. Big D had spent his time at a spa resort with some old friends of his, while Coops and Hawk decided to spend their week off hanging out together on some country fucking retreat where they got to shoot clay birds, wear wellies, and smoke pipes. Boring bastards.

Big D turned to me as we stood in a circle, gesturing my way with a lazy finger.

“You’re quiet,” he said in that deep voice of his.

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