Loneliness Trilogy Bundle Boxset (3 page)

“Let’s take ten,” Tim orders.

After a short break, The Lonely Lovers resume practice. And we practice every day. Each day becomes a routine of learning songs and helping Laslow to fit into The Lonely Lovers. He takes his music home and seemingly puts in many hours of practice at home, because he makes fast progress on learning each song and even adds his own feel as well. Also, his brother, Marcus, never misses a practice. He’s soon as much a member of the group as any of us. While he doesn’t play an instrument or sing, he loves music just as passionately as we do. Oftentimes, he’ll bring a laptop with him and work while he listens to us practicing. A new routine develops between Marcus and me: we begin to chat with each other after practices - something I grow to look forward to. Still, I find that I have to force myself to restrict our interactions to those after-practice chats. Our group has an unwritten policy that we will not date anyone affiliated with the band. It could cause too much tension and endanger our group’s cohesiveness, especially should couples break up. It’s a good policy - one I appreciate - but, right now, it is damned difficult sticking to that! My desire to see the group stay as strong as possible helps me to honor our policy.

“So, what kind of work do you do?” I ask Marcus. I am curious about the laptop and notes he often brings with him.

“I’m a technical writer - engineering and math papers. I earned my degree in engineering and in supplemental maths. I was laid off from a large engineering firm after the writing department was scuttled. Then I decided to strike out on my own and start my own small business. I do freelance work for several private clients - mostly small companies. It’s portable and I can adjust to conditions and write as much or as little as I need. Right now, there’s a big demand for instructional documents, so I’m staying pretty busy. Have you always been involved with music?” he asks me.

We sit in silence for a moment before I realize my mouth is hanging open. I have no clue what he just said, but his intelligence only makes him sexier.

He clears his throat. “Erm, Johanna?”

“Oh sorry, what was your question? I didn’t hear that last part.”

He lets out a small chuckle. “Your music - you’ve been doing it for a while, now, right?”

“Oh! You can tell, can’t you?” I giggle. “I’ve always loved music, even when I was a just a tot. My parents noticed that I had a natural aptitude for all things musical, so, when I was still in primary school, I asked them if I could go to music school. They made some calls and found some excellent schools. I attended the Queen’s Public School of Music up until I graduated, then I attended university, where I found a music program. A little bit of networking and here I am now.”

“Okay, all, let’s get back to practicing! I want to see how we sound because I’m thinking we should record some of our old songs with Laslow before we decide if we’re ready to do some concerts to introduce Laslow to our fans,” Tim says.

“Woo-hoo!” I say. This is actually the fastest we’ve been able to prepare a new group member to our fans - that’s a testament to his tremendous musical talent and work ethic. After practicing, I collapse on the couch between Tim and Laslow and slug down a bottle of water.

Tim sighs. “I think we’re ready to record a practice demo. If that sounds good, I’ll have our manager start setting up some concerts at smaller venues,” he decides.

“I feel like I’m getting there, Tim, but playing at smaller venues are probably ideal. I’d rather be in front of a smaller crowd if I muff something,” says Laslow.

“Laslow, you won’t muff anything. You’ve got the music down cold and proper - every different set we have. You just need to learn the signals Tim gives for impromptu changes,” I tell him.

“Agreed. We can work on those signals and build them into a few dress rehearsals,” says Tim. “Meantime, let’s go to the Royal Crown and get sloshed - we’ve worked damned hard and we all deserve that. Marcus, join us, please.”

“Glad to, I’ve finished up my work enough, I reckon,” says Marcus. He loads his laptop into the messenger bag and tucks it under the seat of his car.

I ride with Tim and Linny to the Royal Crown. Inside the red brick building, we commandeer a large, circular table and order our beers. We’ve been going to the Royal Crown Pub since The Lonely Lovers first formed in the academy. It’s a hole-in-the-wall joint located conveniently right down the street from the High Street Recording Studio we call home. The cracked walls are covered with pictures of us with the bartenders, fans and other musicians. Linny tells me there’s even a photo of Gemma’s breasts in the men’s loo. I laugh and tell him to leave it. We order beer after beer and wolf down wave after wave of chips. Several hours later, we are still there, laughing and talking as we make plans for the next week’s dress rehearsals and set recording.

It’s nearly eleven p.m. when Tim and Linny drop me at my flat. I’m absolutely plastered, so when I get inside, I collapse onto my cloud of a bed. My mind runs over the night. We’re getting there! Laslow is nearly ready and we’re going to be able to start setting up concert gigs again. In bed, my uninhibited brain lets loose on a wild, raunchy dream featuring Marcus and me - in that dream, we are kissing, touching each other and just before he undresses I awake. Once up, I notice I am perspiring and my heart is pounding. “Okay, it’s time for my remedy,” I tell the empty room. I slide my hand into my panties. Fingering myself, I come to an explosive and loud climax. As I cum, my eyes are closed and I see Marcus on my eyelids.

Chapter 3

F
rom that time on, I feel a special thrill in my spirit when Marcus shows up at our practice sessions. Regardless of how long practice is, he is there, sitting a short distance away, writing, nodding occasionally and always listening.

I glance over at him, trying to hide my interest in him. Given our band’s rule, that would only cause discomfort and controversy - even though he’s not a member of the band. His familial relationship to Laslow makes him off-limits to me.

After one practice session, Tim smiles with satisfaction. “Okay, lads, I think we’re ready to ask Nigel - that’s our manager, Laslow - to start booking concerts for us throughout this part of England, at the very least. I’ll talk to him and see what he thinks. He may want us to book throughout the entire country,” he says. Laslow, Linny and I give a loud cheer. Looking over at Marcus, I see him grinning broadly. His eyes shift over to me and he gives me a quick wink.

After that practice, it’s late, so I decide to pick up some food at the pub rather than make my dinner. I’m waiting for my take-away order when I feel a tap on my shoulder. Turning around, I see Marcus looking down at me and grinning.

“Well, hello! Looks like we had the same idea,” he says.

“I thought you would have gone home with Laslow!” I say, confused.

“Well, yeah, except I had to deliver several articles to a client in this area, so we drove in separately this morning. Laslow’s going home to his wife. He’s tired, so he just wants to get home quickly. I, on the other hand, am wide awake after that session,” he tells me.

“And? What did you think?” I ask. I admit it - I’m asking for good news for our band.

“I’m no pro, but you sounded damn good. I liked the transitions. And how the instruments all blended and took the music into new sections. It all sounded…what’s the word I want? Seamless?”

“Well, thank you!” I preen happily as I inch toward the front of the line. Five minutes later, I order my meal - a burger and chips. I’ll drink some wine at home to wind down. When the server quotes my total, I pull my wallet from my purse. Marcus stays me with a large hand on my shoulder.

“Miss, I’ll pay for my friend,” he tells her.

“Marcus, that’s a good three quid there! I’ll pay for that!” I tell him, trying to hand my money to the waitress.

“No worry. You worked…you worked hard today,” he tells me.

Feeling unsettled, I nod my agreement slowly. Several minutes later, my bag of hot food comes out from the kitchen.

“Well, thank you, Marcus. I do appreciate it,” I tell him.

“Wait while I order my meal,” he asks me.

Nodding, I do so, standing to the side, with my bag of hot food warming the side of my leg. He pays for his meal and we walk out slowly, chatting.

“So, your freelance work makes a good living for you?” I ask him.

“Some months are better than others, frankly. Right now business is good, so I try to set apart what I don’t use on bills for those lean months when client work is hard to find,” he tells me.

“Hmmm. Seems that three quid you spend on my take-away could have gone toward the ‘famine’ till,” I tell him, only partly joking.

“Yeah. But I felt like buying your food. No offense taken, I hope?” he asks me.

“None taken, Marcus. But you do need to save for your future, you know,” I tell him. “Playing in a band is the same way - some months, we do very well and others, we’re chasing after jobs that don’t want to be caught. I’ve learned to bank what’s left over, because I never know when I’ll need it to cover a bill.” It is then I realize that I actually care about him. We’ve only ever made small talk but I actually care. There is not a chance I’ll be letting him know that though. The uproar that would ensue! After Gemma, there’s no way I’m even thinking of going there.

The next few weeks pass quickly as we continue working on existing songs and learn a couple new songs that Tim, Linny and Laslow have written. I’m working on a song built around the keyboard, but I want to make sure that the bass part is right and that Laslow can sing what I have in mind for him before I ask Tim to introduce it to the band. He’s been given a short vocal solo and I listen closely to his voice so I can learn his vocal range. Once I know what that is, I make some changes to the music I have at home.

“Johanna wrote a song that she wants the band to learn,” Tim says a few days later. I’ve been looking at it and, Laslow, it looks like she pegged your voice pretty well.”

He hands out copies of my song, called Ode to the Littlest Angels. It’s a bluesy piece, one I wrote in honor of the youth killed by street violence around the world. Because we can all sight-read, we catch onto the basics pretty quickly. From there, it’s zeroing in on our parts and refining what we’re learning. I sing my parts as the band plays; Tim and Laslow both sing their parts. All four of us sing the refrain.

“Wow. Whew! Johanna, this is a hard-hitting song. I think the lyrics will have our audiences crying,” says Tim. “I think we should plan to insert this into the middle of one of our sets to break up the tempo.” He wipes a couple tears away, as do the rest of us..

“Johanna, whatever the inspiration, you have hit on a song that’s going to touch the hearts of your audiences,” says Marcus.

“I just want to see senseless killings stopped,” I tell him and the band. Our practice ends on a quiet note. I load my sheet music into my messenger bag and get ready to go home and clean. I look up and see Marcus looking straight at me. He signals with his eyes and I follow him out.

We go to a different pub - one that’s a little out of our neighborhood, The Salty Saloon. Inside, I sit down, completely exhausted from the practice and the emotion of the final piece.

Marcus brings our beers and food over.

“You feel things very deeply, don’t you?” he asks me.

“Oh, so you can tell?,” I ask with a hint of sarcasm.

We chat for several hours, ordering more dark ales. He takes me home when dark has fallen.

“I don’t want to see you walking by yourself,” he tells me.

I wave at him, clutching my messenger bag over my shoulder.

“Thanks, Marcus. I appreciate the dinner and the talk. That last piece really brought out some…stuff,” I say.

At the end of that week, Tim and I hold back. I want to tell him that I’m developing growing feelings for Marcus - not that I expect a blessing from him. But I trust Tim and I feel like he might understand - not that I expect his blessing.

“Tim, I know he’s not a member of the group. But…I like Marcus. I mean I really like him - if you know what I mean,” I say. My heart is hammering.