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“Oh my… What’s wrong with her? Does she have tattoos?” She said the word tattoos like it was a terminal illness.
Judgemental as ever I see, Mother.
“No, Mum, she doesn’t have tattoos.” I sighed, exasperated. But wait, does Jake have tattoos? I haven’t seen him naked in over ten years, Hell, I haven’t even seen the flesh of his forearms since he’s been back in my life. “It’s complicated. She works with us. She’s part of our team. I don’t think it would go down very well.”
“Hmm.” Her face wrinkled a little like she was slightly repulsed – no doubt about the fact I’d fallen for someone in the industry. She wants me to settle down with a nice girl from the countryside who never fails to attend Sunday mass at the local church. “You can’t live your life by what others might think, darling. You’re the only one who has to walk in your shoes, no one else.” Whoa… was that my mum being… human? I almost choked on my tea. “Besides, you haven’t put others thoughts first in the past now, have you?” Ah, there we go – a dig at how I ignored her pleas for me not to live this life full of sin. Everything was right with the world after all.
“Maybe you’re right.” Turned out, being ‘honest’ was pointless, seeing as I was actually spinning her a web of bullshit. Truth be told, this wouldn’t be an issue if Jake were a woman. My mum was right… I’ve never put anyone’s thoughts before my own, and if the only issue were that Jake worked for me, I wouldn’t even have to think about it. “So how are you? I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch much lately.”
My mum and I exchanged formal and polite chitchat for twenty minutes or so. As usual, she told me about the latest church gossip and I told her jack shit. She said she had no idea I was even back in the country at one point, but I knew she was talking crap. My face has been plastered over every magazine over here for weeks now, talking about the upcoming tour. Fair enough, she wouldn’t read any of those ‘trashy’ magazines, but you can’t walk through a damn supermarket without seeing it on the shelf.
“So Marjory is taking over the organ until we find Helen’s replacement,” my mum continued. I switched off for a little while, but thought I’d better make the effort for the last few minutes before I left.
“Helen Davison?” I asked, feigning interest. If it was the Helen I remembered from being a kid, she’s a toffee-nosed bigot with an ass the size of London.
“Yes. Did you know her son decided to become a homosexual?” I swear, she actually shuddered at the word. “And then she seriously thought she could keep her hand in at the church after that? She thinks she can mock God by strolling into his house as if nothing was wrong!”
“Well… it’s hardly Helen’s fault,” I tried to reason, but really I just wanted to get the fuck out of there.
“But she is standing by him! She is supporting him even though she knows he’s going against God’s will – against our faith, against everything we believe in. It’s unnatural and the whole situation disgusts me. She won’t be welcome at my door again, that’s one thing I’m certain of.”
I’d been brought up hearing things like that throughout my childhood. It used to affect me, because I used to believe in God and I would’ve been too scared to go against him. Then I grew up and realised religion is all political bullshit. But that doesn’t stop me fearing people. Rightly or wrongly, being judged does bother me. I don’t want people to be disgusted by me, and they would. My mother is not the only person who thinks that way.
“I have to go, Mum. We’ve got sound checks to get through ready for tomorrow.” I was lying of course. Final sound checks go ahead on the day of the show, not before.
We said our goodbyes as formally as we said our hellos. Suddenly feeling a little sick to my stomach, I hesitantly wrapped one arm around her and gave her a peck on the cheek before giving her a cheque, which she took without hesitation, and heading outside. Jim and Neil were waiting outside for me, each guarding one side of the door. With a simple nod as my only form of communication, I walked briskly down the concrete steps, flooded with piss and grime, and practically pole-vaulted into the back of the car.
Yeah, that visit was a complete waste of my fucking time.
I don’t know how I was expecting to feel after visiting my mother, but it sure as shit wasn’t to feel worse. Since the band went global, I’ve spent the years wading through my life without much thought. I’ve never taken anything too seriously, too busy being swept along by the glamour and the power. People have always hung off my every word. I’m the frontman – the decision maker. I’ve always had complete control over everything in my life.
Until now.
I don’t quite know what led me to do what happened next. Maybe it was because I couldn’t get pissed and risk a hangover from hell the night before a show. Maybe it was because I couldn’t call Elle because she was working at some fashion event in the city. Or maybe… it was because I just needed to see him.
Chapter Six
“Sawyer?” I answered the door to my room wearing only a pair of grey jogging pants.
“Can I come in?”
Wordlessly, I stepped aside. Sawyer walked past me and took himself over to the white leather couch. He sat down, making himself comfortable, and then after locking the door, slipping into my shirt on from the back of the chair, I joined him, sitting just inches away. As usual he looked perfect. His hair was damp, freshly showered I assumed. He had on a short sleeved t-shirt that exposed the impeccable curves of muscle along his arms, decorated with some of the finest Japanese artwork I’ve ever seen. Then I looked into those rich, caramel eyes, and they were heavy with burden.
