Chapter 16 Adam “Cheek to Cheek” #3
Even though it’s rammed up here front of stage at Concorde 2, Jules and I still manage to half elbow, half wrestle ourselves enough space to dance to “All the Daze” right through to its thunderous end.
And yeah, we dance crappily. Laughingly. Mum-and-dadly. Madly. But we don’t care, because this is our song and it makes us feel twenty-one again, just like that night we first heard them playing live outside the Fortune of War—that first night we kissed.
I’ve got a rubbish memory for loads of things. So many of those early years and times we spent together are nothing but a blur. But a kiss like that. Hell, you don’t forget that. It stays with you forever. Hopefully right up to the day you die.
We kiss again now, as the last chords fade. But just briefly. Embarrassed. Because deep down we do know that maybe we ain’t as young as we once were, or whatever it was the Boss sang. Even so, Doodles and Ngozi catch us out.
“Get a room,” Doodles teases, as the festival crowd starts to disperse, heading for the exits and back toward the main bar.
“Aw, leave them alone. It’s their wedding anniversary. It’s cute,” Ngozi chastises him, before giving him a great big kiss on the lips as well.
It’s still a bit of a shocker, to be honest. Them being together.
Ngozi told me the other week that this was all down to us.
To the way we’re still together after all these years.
Since they’ve known each other nearly that long too.
Leading to them eventually talking about how much it means having someone in your life for so much time.
How much you must really have to care about them not to go your separate ways.
They also both admitted they’ve always secretly fancied the arses off each other. So, yeah, that probably helped too.
“See you in the studio first thing Monday?” Doodles says.
“Right, the shortest commute in the world.” My usual gag and one that’s become a bit of a catchphrase with our burgeoning army of subscribers.
Because, oh yeah. We did it. In the wake of reading that letter, Jules and I did go for its two suggestions—the Dadass Dudes and Chez Jules.
Me and Doodles clubbed our redundancy payments together and kitted out Dad’s old shed into a studio—kind of like Wayne’s World’s basement, only ours.
It’s now where we livestream us playing old-school games once a week, and where Kylie and even grumpy Greg from Quark, who we’ve given a cut, join us on Tuesdays and Thursdays to help us push the brand.
We’ve got a shitload of subscribers already and our views and promotions are growing strongly too.
Oh, and we’re storyboarding a new game called Earth Twin, with a view to putting it into development, and even Liam’s working on it once a week.
He’s got ideas going way back to that long-ago staycation summer that got overshadowed by his accident.
“Hey, Dad,” he shouts, spotting me through the crowd.
He’s with Max and Kai, all of them still high on the back of supporting the Troubs.
“So, what did you think?” Liam asks.
“They were bloody brilliant. And you guys weren’t too shabby either,” I tell him proudly.
Truth is, I will never forget seeing him up there onstage, belting out that aching, arching bass climb that comes in about halfway through “Ventura Highway,” that America track he caught me listening to in the kitchen a few months back, which his fledgling band Grass Stain then did a cover of that I then snuck to KP from the Troubs.
Or the roar of approval they got from all the younger kids who so clearly wished they’d learned more than just three songs.
And then it hits me—how I’ve been watching bands wrong all these years. Because it’s not just about success, is it? It’s about trying. It’s about that moment of witnessing someone else soaring toward their potential, to where they might do anything and be anything, and willing them on.
That same moment we all have every minute of our lives, if only we could see it ourselves.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him, leaning in and whispering into his ear. “This was never a hobby. It’s your future. I just got the two things muddled up.”
He hugs me. Tight. He’s taller than me now, I realize. Or maybe it’s just the ridiculous cowboy boots he’s got on. Then him, Max, and Kai head over to help with lugging the Troubs’s gear outside, and Ngozi and Doodles wend their way over to the bar.
“I still worry about him,” Jules says.
“Me too,” I say. “But I guess that’s parenting. We always will.” And I mean that. He’s even kind of given us permission to, now that he’s invited us back into his life.
Jules reaches into her pocket and pulls out her buzzing phone. It’s Nelly, calling from Mexico.
“Yes, yes, he was brilliant,” Jules tells her, switching the phone onto video.
Our daughter waves at us from what looks like a beach bar, with Eva grinning beside her, holding her hand. They’re thinking of staying for another couple of months, they tell us.
“Go for it,” Jules says.
“Yeah, go for it, kid,” I agree.
After we’ve all waved goodbye, Jules ducks over into the queue for the loo, leaving me leaning up against one of the pillars by the bar.
Then I see Meredith, coming out of the stage door.
Her blond hair is a little longer, but her gray eyes are shining as bright as ever as she looks me up and down.
I’ve not seen her since I got fired. She did try calling a couple of times, but I never did answer the phone.
I’d be lying if I said I don’t feel anything now, but that jolt, it’s so faint it’s hardly there.
“Adam,” she says, coming over. “Long time no see.”
“Hi, Meredith.”
She gives me a tentative, awkward, colleague-style hug, looking a little embarrassed too. She must know that I know. Who in “Sillycon” Valley doesn’t? Her and Darius are now an item.
“I was sort of hoping I’d bump into you tonight, Koala,” she says. “You know, I really miss our old chats.”
Does she? Yeah, well, maybe I do too. But what’s done is done, eh? The world’s moved on. Darius walks over, slipping his arm around Meredith’s waist, as he holds up his black Amex to catch the barman’s eye.
“You should have seen it backstage,” he says to no one in particular. “Those guys are so cool. And Liam, of course,” he adds. “Although we didn’t really get a chance to catch up.”
“Hey, Adam.” The Troubs’s drummer, KP, butts in through the thinning crowd, with his baseball cap pulled down low. “You want to catch a beer later? We’re all heading over to the Heart and Hand.”
“I’d love to, but I can’t tonight,” I say.
“No worries, next time.” He slips out through the fire escape and into the night.
Darius nods. Impressed I know him. Surprised.
“Then maybe we should get a drink together,” Meredith suggests, nudging Darius none-too-subtly in the ribs. “We’ve both been feeling bad about what happened, haven’t we, Dar? About that whole misunderstanding.”
Does she mean my job? Jules? There’s no way to tell and no way I am going to ask.
“Er…” And for once Darius is lost for words, as Jules walks over and stands beside me.
“Meredith here was just saying that we should all go for a drink together,” I tell her. “Because, you know, it’s been too long.”
“Right,” Meredith says, smiling. Like I got the memo, at least.
Then everyone’s looking at me. Like this decision’s somehow mine. I give my big beard an even bigger scratch.
“Sorry,” I then tell Meredith, “it’s just…we’ve got plans…”
“So many,” Jules adds, taking me by the hand and leading me off into the crowd.
—
We walk back along the seafront. It’s a cold, moonlit night and we hold each other tight, with the muffled boom of the clubs up in town and the cries of the gulls ringing in our ears.
“Don’t they ever sleep?” Jules laughs.
We walk down onto the beach and crunch across the pebbles, gazing out across the sea until we stop, without either of us mentioning it, right in front of the Fortune of War where we first kissed so long ago.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” she says.
It is. Couldn’t be more so. A full moon beams down onto the glittering, flat sea. There’s not a breath of wind or a wave in sight. You can even see the stars reflected in the water. A whole universe of them. Like they go on forever.
“I really do want to spend all my time with you and share everything this whole damn wide universe has to offer,” I tell her.
And it’s odd, because even though my memory is rubbish, I think I maybe remember saying this, or something very like it, before.
Yeah, maybe up on that roof terrace of our very first home. The night we got engaged.
“Me too,” she says, and her eyes are sparkling, brighter even than the stars. “And making the most of it. Every day. Making every single second count.”
She remembers it too.
Stepping toward her, I tuck her hair behind her ear. Her beautiful blond hair that’s now streaked with gray. This time as we kiss, it’s proper. It’s real. There’s no one looking and it just goes on and on, as the millions and billions of stars blaze down.
“Well, A-Hole. That’s what I call a proper snog,” she says, finally coming up for air.
“Yeah. Could be a record.”
She touches her fingers to my face, scratching my beard. “I might have waited a quarter of a century for another kiss like that, but I have to say, you’ve still got it, you old grizzly bear, you.” She tugs at my beard, and we grin at each other, stupidly happy.
“What?” I ask.
“I was just thinking it might be fun to see you clean-shaven for once after all these years.”
“Yeah?” I think about it. Maybe a new look to go with this new phase in my life wouldn’t be such a bad idea. “Why not? Because change is good, right?”
She smiles. “Because change is good.”