Chapter 4 #3
“Dad!” Eloise settled in beside him, her fishnet stockings brushing his denim-clad legs. “Is your liver not pickled enough?”
Steve sighed.
Paul said, “Yeah, I’m good, thanks.”
“Haven’t seen your face in a bit. Busy schedule?”
Paul nodded. He was genuinely busy. He’d gone from touring with Ronnie, to recording Black Halo’s latest album, to touring again with barely a break between.
So, sure, he’d missed a few semi-important gatherings, and a wedding, but these things happened.
Evidently, his absences had totted up enough for people to have started wondering though.
He’d have to make sure he quietened their interest before anyone started inventing reasons for his absence.
One thing he’d learned young and learned well, was that people loved to gossip about anything and everything, but about each other most of all.
So, if you didn’t want speculative rumours spreading about your doings, you had to make sure to feed them just enough of what they wanted to hear so that they felt in the know enough not to make shit up in your absence.
As he lacked both a watch, and currently, his phone, he turned Eloise’s wrist to check the time.
Today was mostly for chilling, except for a couple of things Sally had lined up with some internet creators and a meet and greet with their support for the next leg of the tour.
The music press wouldn’t get time with them until tomorrow.
It’d be mundane stuff, all platitudes, and no substance.
Yeah, great line up, rocking atmosphere, album’s doing well.
All that stuff. The only excitement would arise from Ronnie opening his mouth at the wrong moment and blurting something they’d have strangled anyone else for saying.
He was armed and ready for that though. He’d found a supply of life-sized jelly toads in a service station when they’d stopped for a slash and because Ash wanted a sticker book.
Who’d even known those things still existed?
“So, you’re back,” he said to Steve. “I thought you were retired from this gig.”
Steve, white rather than blond these days, refreshed himself with another slurp of swamp goop. “Aye, but there’s no helping it when the muse comes calling.”
“You’re releasing new stuff?” That did surprise him. He’d figured this reunion was just a victory lap to relive their heyday before they settled into true retirement.
“That’s the plan. The core fans are psyched for it, and we’ve picked up a ton of new listeners since It’s No Treason got featured on that Netflix show last year.”
He wasn’t much of a TV watcher, having grown up without one, so he hadn’t understood why the track had started getting so much airplay again until Ronnie had brought him up to speed. Actually, how the fuck had Ronnie not been aware of the reunion?
Or maybe he was and just hadn’t thought it worth mentioning. He guessed he’d never said anything to allude to him having a connection to them. Just as well or he’d have had a running Ronnie-style commentary about their every move.
“When are you up?” he asked Damon.
“Tomorrow, six-ish,” Severina answered for him from across the tent. “No use asking him, he can’t tell the fucking time.”
“Tomorrow at six,” Steve echoed. To his daughter he said, “Mind your tongue, young lady.”
She shot him a middle finger the moment his head turned back to Paul.
Some things never changed. Steve had taught all his daughters how to swear effectively.
If they were gonna do it, they were gonna do it well, being his reasoning.
The lessons had run right alongside how to properly kick idiots in the nuts.
He’d called it life-skill 101 and forbidden any of them to ever fuck a musician.
Naturally, they all did the precise opposite.
Just as well. Steve would have been beside himself if he’d learned they were fucking tech bros.
“Cool. I should manage to catch it, then.” As headliners, Black Halo weren’t due on stage until ten past nine and knowing how these things usually panned out it’d be more like quarter or even twenty past.
“I tried to get your folks to come.” Steve leaned forward, swamp juice still in hand, a smear of it clinging to his upper lip. “They couldn’t make it work. Saw them a couple of weeks back.”
Inwardly, Paul jolted, though he took pains to keep his reaction off his face.
A rock festival wasn’t their scene. His folks weren’t even goths or goth adjacent like Toys in the Attic, they were traditional folkies.
Steve and Damon making a comeback was hardly enough to bring them here, even if they had all been hanging together since the late seventies.
“Debs seemed keen to see you. Mentioned you’ve not been around for a while.”
Aw fuck, here it came.
“Yeah. I need to eke out time for a visit. You know how it is. This last year’s been insane, and we’ve not got a real break coming up until the end of the tour.”
“That so?” Steve’s blue eyes burned him with the intensity that had won Toys in the Attic scores of fans ever since their first intensely atmospheric music video.
Elspeth circled her arms around his neck from behind. Her lips brushed the crown of his head, followed by her hand. “Oo, soft,” she said of his buzz cut. She leaned in closer, mouth to his ear. “What’s with the knots in your nuts?”
“Excuse me?” He knew what she meant. He’d been wound tight from the moment he stepped inside this tent.
How she knew that he was less certain about, but she proved her point by digging her fingers into his shoulders.
His muscles were indeed full of knots that resisted her massaging.
“I slept like shit. Bus is loud. You know how it is. Probably need to go for a run and work it off.”
She made the appropriate noises, but he sensed she was unconvinced.
Felt they were all viewing him like he was flashing up an anomaly warning.
Honestly, it was a relief when Damon wandered over and started grilling him about recording studios.
Where was still open? Who was the best for what?
He gave Ric’s Liddell Island studios a plug.
They both waxed lyrical about Rockfield for a few minutes, before he got asked about Stormland, but couldn’t offer anything constructive having never been there.
At the end he gave DeathScythe a plug too, purely because Allegra had worked… still worked there on and off.
Forty minutes passed before he figured he ought to make a move before someone came looking for him. He’d done two rounds of goodbyes and reached the tent entrance, only for Damon to pull him to one side. “How are you set for October?”
He regurgitated the stuff about his tour schedule.
“Not too far away, then,” Damon insisted, one hand fast around Paul’s lower arm. “Make sure you get to the Samhain Fire Festival. I can’t say why, but I’m telling you, you need to be there. No excuses. If you miss this…” He finished by shaking his head.
“I’ll do what I can, man but—”
“Nix that right now. They’ll be fucking gutted if you’re not there, so make sure you fucking are, and don’t be a whiny arse about it.
I don’t give a shit why you’ve been keeping your distance, get over it.
In fact, if you’ve any fucking soul, show your face before then too.
They don’t deserve this, Paul. They taught you better than this. ”
He wasn’t sure he had a response that didn’t just dig him into a deeper hole, so he kept his mouth shut, and left with his cheeks burning.
The fact was, Black Halo had a five-day break scheduled right after the Norwegian leg of the tour, but he and Ronnie had some sightseeing planned, and he’d snagged a cabin that promised an entirely off grid experience.
Besides, his folks were probably busy swimming with pigs, or grooming alpacas, or contributing to some rewilding project somewhere.
He hadn’t realised that Elspeth had followed him out until he was halfway back to the bus.
“E?”
“Paul.” She swallowed, then offered him a terse smile. “Don’t be a stranger because of whatever Damon said.”
Yeah, he didn’t see himself making time to hang out. Was no longer sure he even wanted to watch their set. “You know where to find me.”
She snorted.
Okay, fair. She wasn’t about to breeze aboard her former band’s bus for a random catch up.
Leastways, not uninvited by one of them that wasn’t him.
Too awkward. He knew the gist of what had been said the last time she and Xane had spoken, but that hadn’t pressed reset on all the pain.
There remained slights on both sides that wouldn’t easily be forgiven and that would make any sort of gathering they were both at distinctly uncomfortable.
Nor did he have a grand plan for how to go about changing that.
Time, he guessed. It was supposed to heal all.
He wasn’t sure that was true. Meanwhile, maintaining distance made for less drama, and even though he relished a bit of excitement after Damon’s lecture, the band wouldn’t benefit from more Elspeth drama.
“I’ll see. Who knows how things will pan out. You know how it is.”
“I do.” She stretched up on tiptoes again to press a kiss to his jaw. Then gave him a hug. “Miss you,” she said, as she pulled away. “I miss our adventures.”
It’d been a very long time since they’d shared what he’d describe as an adventure. “Me too, E. Me too.”
He left her there, just about in sight of the tour bus, but certainly not close enough so that anyone would ever think she was interested in or connected to the band to which it belonged.
He only looked back once he reached the bus steps.
By then she was gone and miraculously, the shower on the bus was free.
He stayed in there until the water ran out.