Chapter 8
Cwrdd a Chyfarch - Meet and Greet
Rhys
Menacing clouds follow us into the city on what feels like the longest drive of my life.
It’s only twenty minutes into the centre, yet the roads and trees crawl past, taking their sweet damn time.
Doesn’t help that Cai and Lucy talk between themselves, frosting me out.
I might as well be somewhere else. Not that I bother to butt in.
No point if they’re gonna continue nattering away like a pair of old grannies.
It’s only when we get to the junction for the shop that they remember I’m in the car with them.
I flick the indicator on to turn left, and she leans into the front.
Her scent invades my space – way too much caramel and vanilla – and I resist the urge to wrinkle my nose.
Hating working with her doesn’t give me an excuse to be an outright dick.
‘Did you not see my email about the route change?’ she asks.
Yeah, I did. I checked Maps and nothing came up.
The traffic light remains red. I stay quiet.
‘Only,’ she carries on, ‘I spoke to the store, and Iestyn warned me there are gas works taking place on the main road. It’s messing with their deliveries. He gave me an alternative way, though it’ll mean cutting through a few lanes and squeezing down an alley. All legal, I promise.’
She shoves her phone through the gap, stretching to get it in front of me.
I flick between the map drawn on her screen and the traffic lights.
Still red. The new route is a blue scribble, dancing across the city through a maze of alleyways and narrow lanes.
On the road to the left of us, the traffic backs up, a queue of red brake lights shining through the downpour.
Cai might not be organised enough to get himself anywhere, but he hates being late. Especially if it’s to meet his fans. Fuck’s sake. Indicator off, I replan the route in my head. Straight on instead of left. It’s a narrow street, but the SUV should be able to squeeze through.
‘If you head down here, you can—’
‘I know my way, Lucy.’
She sits back, and in the rearview mirror, her lips draw into a tight line. Good. I’m sure she’ll have something else to pick at soon enough. I’ll enjoy the silence for as long as it lasts.
A bug crawls under my skin in the quiet and the red glow from the longest traffic light in the world. Her research has her knowing the city better than me. I’ve lived here all my damn life. If Iestyn told me about the roadworks, I could have planned ahead, too.
It could be shooting the messenger, getting grumpy with her over this. Iestyn should have told me. We talked for long enough. But it turns all the wrong knobs that she’s the one pointing out the obvious new route, saving the day. Especially with the haughty, holier-than-thou way she speaks to me.
Some chav in a beaten-up KA honks when I switch to the middle lane without indicating, and I flash him a middle finger as he speeds past me. The sat nav – the one on my dashboard, not the one in the back seat – tries to reroute me over and over, but I ignore it in favour of Lucy’s twists and turns.
We reach the store without hitting any traffic, and I’m even more annoyed that she was right.
The next time we go anywhere, I’m gonna have to put more effort in.
Expand my research, check more traffic websites, maybe change the app I use since it’s clearly no good at its job.
Anything to beat her as champion route-planner.
A spotty teen in a scruffy band tee and torn jeans waits at the gate at the back of the building, and he waves us into an empty bay. The gate shuts behind us. We’re locked in tight and I slip out of the car to stretch.
There’s not a peep from the hordes of fans that usually wait at the doors of this sort of event.
Not on this side of the building, anyway.
I hate to say it, but Lucy did good. The genius of her change in route’s reinforced when the guy sidles up to me and says, ‘Made it past the roadworks? My mate’s stuck.
ETA’s another ten minutes at least, but he’ll be here in time. ’
Dammit.
All right, Rhys. You can be a man about this. Credit where credit’s due, and all that. I’ll open her door before I get to Cai’s and tell her thanks. I round the trunk, reach for the handle and get a face full of metal when she opens the door and slides out of the car.
‘I’ll go make sure everything is okay,’ she says and trots away. I don’t get a chance to open my gob.
Well, I tried.
To add insult to injury, Cai unfolds from the car. Can’t help him out if he’s got there himself. I busy myself with hauling his guitar case from the boot. Might as well be useful for something.
‘Bit keen, isn’t she?’ I nod towards Lucy’s retreating backside, the click of her heels growing quieter.
‘She’s doing her job. And look, there’s no foul. I’m here and safe and a little earlier than we planned. You could be a bit nicer to her. I heard you snap.’
I’m about to argue back when she returns with an older guy whose moustache could rival Gethin’s. As thin and long as a beanpole – the man, not the moustache – he could be our manager’s scruffy older brother.
He bypasses me and heads straight to Cai.
‘Hi, Iestyn,’ Cai says, his hand already stretching out to shake.
‘Lush to have you here again, butt. Everyone’s buzzing, ‘specially cos you’ve come on such short notice. Diolch for that, by the way.’
‘No problem at all. Local gigs are the best kind, and I’ll always clear my day for my favourite record store.’
Hi, I’m Rhys. Cai’s best friend and the guy responsible for keeping him alive. Lovely to meet you.
‘They’re putting you upstairs,’ Lucy tells Cai.
Iestyn replies, ‘Yep. Helps us manage the crowds a bit better and it’s easier to clear the floor. Here, let me show you.’
He leads us into the store via a red fire exit, weaving us through a stock room bursting with overstuffed boxes, and onto the shop floor.
It’s always weird seeing it empty like this.
The racks of CDs and vinyls are like a ghost town.
When I was a lad, it’d be busy here from opening to closing, and from what I’ve heard, it’s the same now.
As soon as we near the front of the store, the crowds outside erupt. They scream their little lungs out, pound on the rain-soaked glass to get his attention. Tears run from their faces.
Not gonna lie, I wasn’t expecting this many. A last-minute event can be a bit hit-or-miss, especially when it’s pissing down. Cai’s fans are crazy.
‘The window’s reinforced, right?’ I ask Iestyn.
‘Yep. Tempered. They won’t be getting through it.’
I eye the vibrating glass as we round the shop floor to the escalators. Light bends around their pounding fists but the window holds. For now.
‘How many do you reckon are here?’ Cai asks. He rides the escalator the wrong way, waving at his adoring fans until he can no longer see them. Doesn’t stop the noise. They continue to wail about him as we reach the top floor, the sound only a little muffled by the lack of a window here.
‘A thousand,’ Iestyn tells us. ‘Maybe more. They’re queuing all the way around the side of the shop. We didn’t have time to ticket. It’s first-come, first-served, and they were here at the crack of dawn.’
I do the maths. Lucy’s got us booked in for three hours of signing plus a short performance. ‘Doubt we’ll see half of that.’
He scratches his chin. ‘Max capacity up here is two fifty. Reckon you could get to that many?’
If Cai’s fast and doesn’t ask for everyone’s life stories then sure. But knowing him, he’ll take his time and we’ll be here all night.
He pipes up. ‘Yup!’
I don’t get a say in the matter, apparently. I have plans later – a drink down the pub with my mate. Cai and Lucy aren’t invited. I was looking forward to it. Might as well text Aled and tell him I’m stuck here for the rest of my life. He’ll be gutted. I’ve been putting him off for weeks.
There isn’t a green room today, so we plonk our stuff at the side of the stage.
She gets to work fussing over Cai and helping him set up, and I turn to my first job: walking the floor.
I take my time, dawdling around the area with my hands shoved in my pockets.
Iestyn and his team have pushed racks of discounted CDs, rolls of posters and stacks of game consoles to the side and replaced them with rows and rows of chairs.
They sit like pews facing the altar of Cai.
A microphone stand and a stool wait for him on a small temporary stage.
My feet stick on the 90s-themed carpet, but the smell of vinyls and sharpies bring back the better side of the nostalgia.
Used to love hanging here with him. We’d take it in turns to queue for the latest releases and hard-to-get tickets, back when you had to physically queue to see your favourite bands.
Who’d have thought this was how our lives would end up?
Meet and greets always go the same way. Performance first, then we’ll swap his mic and chair for a table and pens. He never sits when he’s got fans to talk to. After that? Signing hell.
A lift sits directly opposite the escalators. That could pose a threat if it’s unmonitored. ‘Hey, mate.’ I step closer to Iestyn and nod towards it. ‘Can you turn the lift off?’
He follows my gaze. ‘Yeah, once they’re all in.’
Cool. Cool. It’s in my line of sight from the side of the stage and I’ll get one of the store guards to cover it.
You can never be too careful. Fans are wild normally, but this close to Cai, they turn rabid.
Must be the intimate setting, or his pheromones.
One whiff of him and they’ve got a one-track mind.
And yeah, okay, I guess he’s handsome enough.
Biceps bulge under his tight grey top as he tightens a peg on the head of his guitar.