CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE #2
‘And yet here I am, telling you very politely that you need to go,’ Derek said smartly, pushing the final coffee into my free hand. ‘Not you, though.’
I blinked up at him as I carefully put the guitar down. ‘What?’
‘Out, out, out,’ sang Derek, prodding my bandmates in the arms. ‘Come on, I got you coffee, the least you can do is give me ten minutes with –’
‘What has he done now?’ Matt called out, chuckling as he made his way to the door.
‘Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad. Derek doesn’t even look mad,’ Wes quipped.
Only Ben lingered. ‘You want us to hang around, Patrick?’
Before, I could say anything, Derek replied. ‘I will not say it a third time, Ben, get out of here,’ he ordered severely. ‘Come back in an hour, OK?’
Part of me wished I could ask them to stay. Despite what Wes thought, whatever Derek wanted to talk about, it wasn’t going to be good.
The door had closed behind them before I could marshal my thoughts into any sort of order, and Derek pulled Ben’s chair around to face me before he sat on it.
‘So,’ he started. ‘I heard from Jessy’s lawyer.’
This time it was my stomach that twisted. ‘Lawyer?’ Did he mean Anna?
Oh God, she was actually going to murder me.
‘They wanted to formally terminate the contract. Which they can’t do, not without paying a huge amount of money,’ Derek said, looking closely at me.
Did he want a reaction out of me?
I hardly knew what to say. Just hearing Jessy’s name sent me into a tailspin. Hearing she wanted out of the contract was … not surprising. But it hurt, nevertheless.
‘But I gave her the out,’ Derek said after a pause, looking at me with something like pity. ‘So she won’t be there. At the awards, I mean.’
My shoulders slumped and disappointment overwhelmed me. ‘She won’t?’
Our PR manager shook his head. ‘Look, Patrick. I don’t want to pry into your personal life.
Despite what you might think, I don’t want to control every little thing you boys do.
’ He took a breath before continuing. ‘But it sounds to me like you and Jessy have unfinished business. Any chance you could make it right with her?’
I hesitated, unsure what Derek’s angle was. ‘Why? Wouldn’t it be better if I just moved on from her? Better for my reputation – for the band?’
‘Because it would make you happy, idiot,’ Derek shot back, relaxing into his seat.
‘It might surprise you, Patrick, but I actually care about your feelings, and your wellbeing. All of you are great assets for the record label, sure, but if you’re going to be making music well into your fifties and not marrying women young enough to be your daughters, you’ve got to stay grounded now. ’
Well. When he put it like that.
‘So, it’s definitely over with you and her?’ he asked again.
‘Yeah.’ I sighed, dropping my head into my hands.
‘And there’s no way you would take her back?’
I glanced up at him. ‘That’s not the problem.’
‘Ah.’
‘Yeah. It was my fault,’ I said, defeated. When I continued, I kept my voice low. ‘The articles, they weren’t – it wasn’t true what they wrote. But I reacted badly. By the time I found out the truth … it was too late. The damage was done.’
The two of us sat in silence as my mind turned over all the opportunities I’d had to slow down, to stop and think about whether Jessy would really do what I’d accused her of.
All the opportunities I’d missed.
‘Well, then I guess we’ll just have to do this awards show and try to forget about her.’ Derek rose to his feet. ‘Now, you think you and the boys will be ready to debut this new song tomorrow?’
TUNING THE GUITAR BACKSTAGE was a lot easier when I could tune Matt and Ben out. Their bickering put old married couples to shame.
‘I’m just saying, it’s so uncomfortable –’
‘This isn’t about whether you’re comfortable or not –’
‘But surely I’d play better if –’
‘This is the Songwriter Awards, you seriously don’t want to wear a suit?’
My fingers moved slowly along the E string. Just focus on the guitar. Don’t think about the song. Don’t think about Jessy, or how you woke up reaching for her last night.
‘Ready?’
I looked up to see Wes smiling, a look of soft concern in his eyes. ‘Yeah.’
‘It’s a great song,’ he said gently. ‘I’m sure everyone’s going to love it.’
He grasped my shoulder as I nodded, unable to find the words.
I’d lost Jessy but gained a song. I wasn’t sure I was happy with the trade, but I would have to learn to be.
‘Two minutes to go,’ hissed a woman wearing a headset and looking down at a time sheet on a tablet. ‘Two minutes!’
Two minutes until These Exiles stepped on to the stage and debuted a completely new song to the world.
We’d done this before. Not actually at an awards show, but we were a band: we played new music live all the time. This wasn’t any different.
At least, that’s what I told myself.
So why was my stomach twisting – my pulse pounding a thousand times a minute?
Maybe this was a mistake. Perhaps we should have just gone with ‘Adventure’, or ‘Clifftop Ode’, both crowd pleasers we knew how to perform without really thinking.
But deep down, I knew we had to play this song.
Jessy wasn’t here, but perhaps she would watch the stream. Perhaps she would hear it. Perhaps she would know, understand, that I was still thinking about her.
‘And we’re a go!’ hissed the person with the headset.
I blinked. It couldn’t have been two minutes already.
‘Big smiles, lyrics are on the prompter, you’ll smash it!’ whispered Derek with two big thumbs up. ‘Go get ’em!’
Ben snorted, but he pasted on a smile and stepped around the corner as a huge cheer erupted from the audience.
This is it.
I followed him, the familiar routine sinking in with each step I took on to the stage.
For a moment, all thoughts fled my mind.
The crowd was huge – not stadium big, but sizeable enough to still feel daunting.
The microphone was waiting for me, there in the middle of the stage, and there was a comfort in slipping into the old habit of stepping towards it and smiling.
Even if the smile wasn’t for them.
‘This is a song,’ I said quietly, my voice echoing into the large space as Matt moved his mic closer to where he stood by the electric keyboard, ‘for a woman who never asked for a song … but inspired one anyway.’
Ben gave us the beat and we launched into what I had called ‘Butterflies’ in my head.
The chords progressed, the music swelled, and I opened my mouth, the words pouring out as effortlessly as breathing. ‘Butterflies, it was butterflies the moment I first saw you –’
And that was when I looked down at the crowd and saw Jessy seated in the front row.