-17-

 

Ash couldn’t recall the last time he’d felt this nervous. Maybe the day he met his adoptive parents. Nah, his guts had never chewed themselves into knots like these, not even right before his degree finals.

When they reached the studio, he drew out unfolding the staff paper and lyrics sheet and separating them from one another in order to place them on the music stand for so long that Xane started grinning at him and shaking his head.

“You didn’t miss out on anything, while we were away.”

“Is that right?”

“Australia’s a bloody long way to go for an interview. Paul and Spook didn’t even get a look in. They got introduced and that was it. The rest was all trash talk about the line-up changes. Willows, my relationship—” He drew air commas. “—with Steve and Elspeth, and how they both left the band. Honestly, the way the interviewer talked, you’d think Steve planned to check out on us, yet no one has gathered that was Elspeth’s actual exit strategy.”

Thank God slitting her wrists hadn’t actually worked. Ash might not have been her biggest fan, but she wasn’t nearly high enough on his shit list to want her dead. Iain Willows on the other hand… That two faced bastard had come close to destroying him. He’d gladly tie him a noose, or load him a pistol.

“What is the official line then, re: Elspeth?” he asked, seizing the opportunity to delay his performance a bit longer. His limbs were quaking so much, he had to hang onto one of the stools for support.

Xane scratched his head. “She’s taking a break. Plenty of bands shake up their line-up every six to eighteen months. I guess we left it open.”

“As long as we’re not actually contemplating welcoming her back. I’m up to here with drama.” Ash raised his hand to his eyebrow. It only shook a little.

Xane made a disgusted face that twisted his lips into a scowl. “Not happening. I’m not sure Paul would even get behind that idea at this stage. She’s barking, from what he’s said about his visits. Look, are you set, or what, ’cause I’m dead on my feet after that flight. Soon as I’ve heard this masterpiece, I’m hitting the sack.”

Bile welled up Ash’s throat, leaving an acrid taste in his mouth. It wasn’t a masterpiece, and he was half tempted to send Xane to bed now without hearing it. Except, he wasn’t a chicken. “We need a guitar.”

Xane fetched Ash’s new Les Paul.

“You realise I’m still rusty as fuck,” Ash warned. He flexed his fingers a couple of times to ensure he got his point across. Although he wasn’t suffering any cramps at the moment, the last nerve flare-ups in his arm were still recent enough for him to expect it to happen at any point. Also, playing this was a major step up from teaching Ginny the intro to Smoke on the Water.

Xane settled himself on the sofa, while Ash perched on the stool he’d been hanging on to, only to change his mind and stand. He always performed standing, guitar low in what Ginny described as his Mr. Tickle pose.

All right, enough delaying. “It’s called Lockdown.”

He played the opening notes, stopped, then began again.

“You know I can’t sing.”

Xane raised his hands and lifted his chin so that his gaze was towards the ceiling. His mouth opened around a groan. “Ash, just play the fucking thing. I don’t care if you screech like a cat. Trust me to be able to see past that. Come on, just give me it.”

That was his cue to stop farting about. Ash rubbed the lucky stocking he had in his pocket. Yes, he was a sad bastard, and he’d stolen one. Then he went for it. His voice was about as pleasing as listening to someone gargle gravel, but he lost himself in the emotion of what he was saying. Allowed the frustrations that had weighed him down for months to flow. Not once did he look at Xane, but kept his focus firmly on the strings. And at least his fingers cooperated and saw him through to the end.

He got a single clap at the end. That was it. He raised his head, convinced he was going to find Xane all pursed lipped and chewing over methods of being tactful. Instead, he discovered Xane was already out of his seat and hurrying towards him. His friend snatched the score off the stand and peered at it like a myopic professor.

“You wrote this?”

“Just say so if you think it’s shit.”

A laugh burst from Xane’s throat. “It’s fucking awesome, dipshit!” He fanned the pages in front of Ash’s face. “We need to get Spook over here to listen to this. Do you have rhythm and drums written, to go with the melody?”

“I’ve not really had practice with those things.”

“But you can hear them, right?” Xane tapped his fingers against the side of Ash’s head. “Please tell me you can.”

“I’m… Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess.”

Xane pounded him across the back. “It’s good, Ash. Better than that. It’s bloody brilliant. I love…love that second verse. By God, they’re not easy lyrics, but you’ve nailed the emotions.” He kept hitting his palm against his fist to emphasise his point. “All the feels are there, the angst, the heartbreak. All with such dynamic precision.”

Ash scratched at his neck again, as he gave way to a goofy grin. “I have no idea what you’re saying.” But, whatever it was, sounded very much like approval.

“A shit load of bollocks probably, but this,” Xane replied. He tightened his grip on the score again. “This is good and needs to be heard.” He passed the pages back to Ash. “Stay here. I’m going to get Spook. I’ll be right back as soon as I’ve dragged his sleepy arse out of bed. You, make copies.”

Ash had dutifully stuck the crumpled pages into the photocopier and produced enough duplicates for the whole band by the time Xane returned with Spook. The latter looked more ghost-like than ever, as he alternated between yawning into his palm and rubbing his red-rimmed eyes.

“Jet lag,” he complained, when he noticed Ash staring.

By the time the rest of the band joined them at around four o’clock, the rhythm, bass, and drums had been added, along with a few piano chords. The chorus got a do over too, in that the end became the middle, and the beginning the end. Everyone was all smiles and enthusiasm, but it wasn’t until Ash heard Xane sing his words that he accepted that his squalling offspring really was something precious.

“How in fucking hell have you written a classic?” Paul asked, six times over.

“No need to vote over what should be the lead track for the new album,” Spook said.

“It’s gonna be massive,” Xane added.

“Christmas release,” Paul piped up again.

Ash shook his head. “It’s not Christmassy,” and he didn’t want to add any sort of hideous seasonal jangle.

“Valentine’s.” The new guy nailed it.

“Yeah, definitely.” Xane wrapped his arm around his lover, and leaned in to smack a kiss upon his cheek, only for Luthor to turn to meet him so they ended up snogging. The rest of them averted their gazes, Dani included.

“So, how soon are you going to be up to recording this?” Rock Giant asked, freeing them from the awkwardness of attempting to ignore Xane and Luthor getting slurpy.

“Paul.” Spook shot a warning at the big guy, followed by an apologetic one at Ash. It made Ash realise exactly how much tiptoeing around him his band mates had been doing in case he had a meltdown.

“It’s okay. It’s a reasonable question. I don’t know that I have the answer. Soon hopefully, if I stick with Ginny’s rehabilitation program.” They exchanged smiles from across the room. She really had made all the difference.

“It’d be good to get this and the album done before we have to hit the road again. It’ll be murder if we have to squeeze things in between tour dates,” Spook remarked.

“Actually, about that,” Xane finally disentangled himself from Luthor. “I spoke to Graham yesterday. He’s booked us into Rockfield Studios for six weeks starting in November. We’ll be recording and then heading straight into the video shoot for the launch single.”

The buzz of a half dozen voices began at once, each with their own questions.

“I thought you were recording here.” Ginny managed to make herself heard over everyone else, citing the same thought that had immediately occurred to him. Wasn’t the fact that Spook had a state-of-the-art studio the reason they were all holed up here together in the first place?

“The label feels our needs will be better served at Rockfield,” Spook replied, cutting Xane off as he started to answer. “Also, they have the technical wizardry available on site, whereas we’re struggling with convincing anyone to travel, and there isn’t exactly room to accommodate them anyway.”

“Rockfield,” Rock Giant managed to make himself heard over everyone else. “Cool, but what happened to the woman you had lined up?” He swung his bass back onto its stand.

“She got busy,” Spook replied, turning his head away from all of them to occupy himself with some non-existent issue with the various leads running across the carpets.

“Bummer. She was good.”

“Yeah, but it’s not going to work out,” Spook mumbled.

“Mm, Ash,” Xane said, drifting towards him as the others chattered. “There was one other thing, Graham’s booked you in for a medical. Apparently, the insurers for the tour have insisted on it. It’s on the 17th.”

“Of October?” Ash gagged as if he’d been punched in the guts.

Xane got close enough to give him a one-armed hug. “I know, right? Sucky choice, but you’re going to ace it.”

“What if he doesn’t?” Ginny demanded, crossing the room to inveigle her way between him and Xane. “Does he then get locked out of the tour?”

Ash wrapped his arms around his precious lady from behind, as they waited on Xane to provide an answer.

“The impression I got was that it was more about establishing his level of fitness. There’s no question that he’s coming with us, more about what’s a reasonable work load. If you can’t do a full set, then I’m going to have to pick up the slack.”

“Reckon you can multi-task that well?” Ash asked with a laugh. Xane had always complained that he hated playing guitar on stage when he had to sing too, as he couldn’t then concentrate on one thing over the other.

“Also, being good for one show isn’t the same as being fit enough for a whole tour,” Rock Giant pointed out.

Also true. And even supposing Ash continued to progress at the rate he had been the last few days, he was unlikely to be wholly back to normal by December.

Xane sighed and rubbed his hands down the front of his shirt. “I guess I’m going to have to put in some practice. I’m sure we can work things out between us.”

A week ago, Ash knew he’d have been put out by the remark, now he was relieved to know there was someone there willing to help out. Being fit and well to tour was a huge ask, but knowing Xane was there and ready to pick up a guitar, even if it was only for a song or two during each set, lifted a huge burden from his shoulders.

“Does this mean we have a genuine action plan figured out?” Rock Giant yawned into his fist. “’Cause if so, can we call it quits for the day? I don’t know about the rest of you buggers, but I’m dead on my feet here.”

“I’m with you on that one.” Spook started herding people towards the stairs.

Ash looked around at their tired faces. They did all look about ready to drop. Spook couldn’t stop rubbing his eyes, and Dani almost had her thumb in mouth. Luthor gave a huge baying yawn over the top of his snare as he rose from behind the drum kit. Only Xane lingered as the rest of the band trooped away.

“You and Ginny don’t party too hard while we’re all flaked out.”

Ha! Fat chance of that. Some celebratory bonking was definitely in order. Well, unless Ginny said otherwise, and that would depend on whether she thought he’d accomplished enough to earn his reward today, bearing in mind they’d already made out twice.

A glow of longing glinted across the surface of Xane’s pale eyes, then with a regretful sigh, he turned away. “Nah—I’m actually too tired to be jealous I’m missing out. Have fun, guys. Night, night.”

Neither Ash nor Ginny moved until the sound of Xane’s footsteps grew distant. They faced one another, smiles creasing their faces.

“We seem to be alone again,” Ash remarked.

His Ginny Bear beamed at him like he was a genuine song writing legend, and not the one-hit wonder he suspected himself of being.

“Seems that way.”

“Got any plans?”

She chuckled at his attempt at nonchalance, and slapped her hand across his arse. “Yeah, I thought I’d give it five minutes until they’re all asleep and then go and give them all comedy eyebrows with this here trusty Sharpie I found just lying around.”

God, he loved her. He made that apparent by hugging her tight.

“Comedy eyebrows, eh? You don’t want to take advantage of the lack of distractions to indulge in some mutual admiration, then?”

She poked a finger against his breastbone. “You haven’t done a single task today, buster. I’m not about to reward you for slacking, and I hasten to add, you left me to tidy up all that cream you sprayed about earlier. It was in danger of stinking the whole place out.”

“I’d have helped.”

“You were here with Xane, and if I’d left it, the house would have been uninhabitable by now.”

“I see. So, what you’re saying is that I need to take a rain check on getting laid, as I wasn’t proactive enough on licking up my cream?”

She gave him a second hard poke. “There’s no need to make it sound quite so dirty.”

“Oh, Ginny,” he cuddled her closer, so that her nose was pressed to his chest. “Haven’t you realised it yet? I am a dirty man. My major goal in life is to do filthy things with amenable ladies.”

“Knock the plural on the head, buster.”

“Particularly, one very special lady who is standing not so very far away, and who—” He began planting kisses across her face and throat. “—I like nothing better than to worship.” He sucked, so that she shivered and melted against him.

“Don’t leave a mark.”

“Wanna claim you. Want to let all the other filthy buggers out there know that you’re mine, and that they need to keep their grubby paws off.”

“Did I consent to being yours?” she teased him back, nipping the skin of his throat with her teeth.

“I get off on the idea of you swearing it. All mine, nobody’s but mine, forever and always, through sickness and health, so help me God.”

“That’s because you’re a soppy romantic.” She pushed him away to arm’s length, frowning a little.

Maybe that was true, but what was so wrong with that? The world looked good through rose-tinted spectacles. Fuck cynical realism. He was dancing with fireflies. “There’s so much sobriety in the world, I’m sure my romanticism won’t skew things too much in one direction.” He intended to hold on to this precious sense that anything was possible for as long as he could. October would arrive swiftly enough, and then they’d all have to slip back into the real world—The world beyond Spook’s island hideaway—and contend with its woes, its wars, and its weddings.

Okay, so that last bit, hadn’t been where that thought was headed at the beginning of it, but it worked well enough that he didn’t repeal it. Why shouldn’t he think of weddings? He certainly liked the idea of slipping a ring onto Ginny’s finger, and having her claim him by slotting a matching one onto his.

He’d got hurt the last time he’d given his heart to a woman, but Ginny wasn’t like Connie. Ginny had stood by him. They talked. She didn’t keep things from him. She was open, and honest, not riddled with deceits. God, that old dream of a ramshackle home and a score of tiny voices yelling daddy ballooned in his mind into a genuine possible future again.

His adoptive parents were good people. They loved him. They were proud of him, but he was forever conscious that they weren’t blood. All the people with whom he shared a genetic connection had abandoned him. The father he didn’t remember, the mother for whom he’d only been a burden, and the brother who’d walked away as fast as he could the minute there was no legal reason for him to stay. “You have what you wanted, Bash. There’s no reason for me to hang around anymore. They’ll keep you safe.”

“But where are you going? You’ll be back, right?”

“I don’t expect so.”

“Auto… Daz?”

He and Ginny, they’d be a stable unit, and their home a haven that their offspring could always return to.

“Ash, you okay? You have the queerest look on your face.”

“Huh?” He shook himself back to the reality of the studio and the beacon of hope in his universe staring at him so studiously. “I was just wondering—when do you think the best time is to start a family?”

“Shit!” Her chin hit her chest. “You’re not seriously thinking we should… Oh my God, Ash!” She backed away from him a pace or two.

“I’m not proposing we make one this instant. I was asking what you thought a good age was to consider it.”

“Like ninety or something. I don’t know. When you have a stable existence and an excess of time and you’ve given up on yourself so you have to foist your dreams onto a younger, smarter version of yourself.” She shook her head at him. “What is up with you? Weren’t you just celebrating the fact you’re back with the band again, and there’s a real possibility you’ll be well enough to record and then tour come December? There’s no room for a kid on the tour bus.”

People toured with their kids, there were ways of doing it. Paul’s parents had, and he’d had a wicked cool childhood. A bit weird admittedly, and his folks were kookie as all hell, but there was nothing wrong with having stars in your eyes.

“Ash.” Ginny waggled her finger frantically between them. “We’re not making a baby.”

“Not now, or not ever?” he caught hold of her again, and dipped his head to make another assault upon her neck. She felt so perfect in his arms. “Come on, admit you’d be super gooey eyed over a baby Ash.”

“For your information, they come in two varieties. Also, while you’re adorable, I’m not obliged to clean up your shit.”

“We’ll have one of each to begin with,” he proposed. The pongy part couldn’t be that bad or people wouldn’t do it more than once, and some did it five or six times. He didn’t think about his birth mother and how difficult children had been for her, because he wasn’t like her. He’d proven that to himself. He didn’t need a handful of pills in order to function.

Ginny kept on shaking her head. “I don’t want to have this conversation. Can we stop talking about kids, and I don’t know, debate who the greatest super hero of all times is, or something?”

“That isn’t something you can debate. There’s a clear winner. Heck, it’s in his theme tune. He’s the greatest. He’s fantastic. See, nothing to discuss.”

“Yeah, but I’d rather fuck Deadpool, maybe even Ironman.”

“No way. They’re like maniacs.”

Somehow, he succeeded in making her laugh, though he wasn’t sure why.

“You want to make babies with Ironman?”

She slapped his forehead. “Did you miss the bit where I said I didn’t want to talk about this?”

“But in the future, we totally are going to?”

She pressed her lips firmly together.

“For God’s sakes, Ginny, lighten up, can’t you tell I’m teasing you? You can un-hunch your shoulders, I’m not about to start jabbing holes in condoms or hiding your pills. I just want a family someday. You want that too, right?”

She let out a long breath and relaxed her body. “Yeah, I guess, someday, but not now. We haven’t known one another six months yet. If we’re still a thing in six years, then you can talk to me about babies.”

“Gah!” What did it matter how long they’d been together? It’d been obvious the night they met that they were meant for one another, and that wasn’t only his interpretation. They’d both felt it. That was why, despite all the crap they’d faced in the intervening months, they were still together. They’d be together until they were old and grey. He had no doubt about that. Still, it didn’t suit his mood to see her frowning. “Fine. I agree.” He shook her hand. “But I think we should work on the techniques involved, so that when the time is right, we’ll be total experts.”

“At fucking?” She squinted at him.

“Yeah.”

“You think we need to practice fucking.”

“Frequently. Like say maybe every sex—I mean six—hours.”

“That’s an awful lot of sex. Have you been reading the Gospel according to Mr. Geist again?”

He shook his head. “No, I’m just a very, very shallow man, and you are a very, very sexy lady.”

“You got that right, buster.”

She wriggled out of his hold and sashayed away from him a few paces, stopping when she was right in the centre of the room. Then she unzipped her dress and let it fall around her feet.

Lingerie—itty-bitty lace knickers that were cut away at the back, no stockings, alas, but her tie-on bra had naughty peek-a-boo slits.

She had not been wearing any of those things earlier today.

Ginny performed a one-eighty degree turn in her stilettos. “You like?”

The caveman inside him roared and beat his chest. Ash nodded his head dumbly, ’cause whoa, wasn’t she the most filthily beautiful thing he’d ever set eyes on.

“Show me what you’ve got, Chief, and maybe we can discuss terms of engagement.”

What he had was a fucking raging hard-on. It didn’t take any persuasion to convince him to drop his jeans.

Ginny shimmied towards him. “Looks kind of red and angry. Oh, and hot to the touch. Stroke it for me.”

“My hand’s fucked.”

“Your hand’s not fucked. There’s just a few lazy synapses in your brain. You beat it fine earlier.”

Yeah, he guessed he had, hadn’t he? “Then can we practice fucking?”

“Like you even need to. You’ve never had any trouble pleasing me.”

“I want to marry you,” he said. “What do you think about that?”

Ginny shoved her knickers in his mouth.

 

***

 

Shitindamnation! They were venturing into scary territory. Babies… Marriage… They weren’t ready to be discussing either of those things. She was definitely, definitely not ready. She wasn’t going to be ready, not for months, maybe years. If ever. She’d broken one promise she’d made herself when she got involved with him. That was creating dilemmas enough. As for taking it all a step further—she didn’t really want to hand that much control to another person.

Did she really want to free herself from one bad decision in order to fall head long into what might be another?

Only, he wasn’t. If there was one thing she was absolutely certain of, it was that Ash wasn’t a mistake.

“I’m pretending I didn’t hear you say that,” she said. Their happily ever after couldn’t happen yet.

Ash continued to grin at her as if she hadn’t spoken and hummed a wedding march around her underwear.