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I started into the song, strumming my thumb over the strings. ‘Forgotten’ was a number one hit for us in twelve different countries back in 2012. It was a guaranteed crowd pleaser, and as expected, they went wild when the first note rolled from my lips. Kip was on keyboard, and usually I would walk up to the rest of the guys as I sang, giving them a high five, sharing microphones, that kinda shit. But when I approached Kip half way into ‘Chasing the Impossible’ his eyes pierced into me like daggers – a silent warning to back the fuck off.
That was the very first time I’d ever not enjoyed a show. After that moment I sang with a fake smile, yelled to the crowd with false enthusiasm, and wished the set would be over already. Kip’s my best friend and I’d obviously upset him somehow. It concerned me, nibbled away at my brain throughout the entire show.
“THANK YOU, MANCHESTER!” I addressed the fans before raising both hands above my head. “AND GOODNIGHT!”
“ROCK ON MOTHERFUCKERS!” Those were Matt’s parting words at the end of every show. Fuck knows why but the fans love it. They love him. They see him as the rebel, the playboy… instead of just a giant twat who’s a few peppers short of a pizza.
Lifting my guitar off my shoulders, I passed it straight to a waiting roadie off stage. We were all immediately ushered off the stage and towards the back exit of the building where our cars were waiting for us with open doors. Obviously Jake and Neil were assigned to me, and so they were waiting for me by the car. Neil nodded, acknowledging my approach and Jake waited until I was inside the car before climbing in beside me. We were driving away in seconds, all in a row like a funeral procession.
“Great show, Saw,” Neil said. I think he always felt obliged to compliment us, but really, he must be sick of our songs by now. I’ve caught him listening to Cliff freakin’ Richards before now, so I don’t think we’re exactly his taste.
“Cheers, Neil.”
I dared a glance at Jake and my breath faltered when I noticed his tie was missing and he’d undone the top three buttons of his white shirt, exposing just a glimpse of his firm chest. I swallowed hard, clearing my throat, and he must’ve noticed because he looked away and turned one side of his lips up into a smile. I don’t think I’d ever seen Jake do the casual look, not since we were teenagers anyway, he was always pristinely dressed in a fine black suit, or jog pants if he was alone in his room – and by alone, I mean with me.
Pulling out his phone, Jake started tapping numbers on his screen.
“Have you informed them we’re on our way…yes…good…ok we can give them ten minutes I suppose… thanks, Pete.” He clicked his phone off and then shifted slightly in his seat to face me. “We’ll be going through the front doors to the club. There’s a gathering outside, we can walk you through them. Stop for a few autographs and such.”
“Sure,” I answered. “No problem.”
“Elle and Ryder are in the car behind with Kip and Dave. I added them onto the guest list this afternoon.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about Ryder?”
“That’s Claire’s job, not mine. My job is to keep you safe, not discuss your staffing requirements.” His voice was sharp and to the point. Had I pissed him off too? What the hell was wrong with everyone today?
I turned to the window and stayed that way for the rest of our twenty minute journey. Suddenly, this night wasn’t looking like it was going to be so much fun anymore.
When we arrived at the club, Sawyer and Neil vacated the car first. My driver, Frank, stayed behind with me until the rest of the guys had arrived too. Once they had, Jake opened my door for me and I stepped out onto the crowded street. Our security team had formed a protective circle either side of us as we made our way towards the entrance of Spur.
“Sawyer! Sawyer!” Girls chanted my name, reaching their arms out in front of them, trying to touch me.
“Oh my God, oh my God, Oh my God!” one girl squealed when I strode over to her. “I love you so much!”
“Love you right back, baby,” I said, giving off the wink it seemed every woman adored. “Hey, Neil!” I called him over, took the girl’s camera phone out of her hand and passed it to him. I draped my arm across her shoulders while Neil took our picture. She clung onto me so tightly, fisting her hand in my leather jacket. Neil nodded, and passed the camera back. “Thank you! Thank you so much! Oh my God I love you!”
“What’s your name, sweetheart?” I asked, taking the pen she offered as she held out a poster of the band in her other hand.
“Jasmine!” she choked out. Her hands were literally shaking as she held out the poster. It seemed so bizarre that I could affect someone in that way. It almost makes me feel bad for them.
“Nice to meet you, Jasmine,” I said, smiling as I handed her the pen back.
I repeated this process several times as I made my way down the line. I looked behind me a few times and saw the other guys doing the same thing, except for Matt, who of course was practically dry-humping a blonde. When we neared the doors, Jake and Pete put a stop to any more people approaching us and steered us inside the building. We were greeted by the club’s manager and several members of his own security team, who led us up to the private floor.
The music was loud and energetic, and when we arrived upstairs people were already half-wasted and dancing. It was an exclusive party – invite only. On this occasion invites were sent out to everyone who had helped out with our UK leg of the tour and our friends too. By friends, I mean acquaintances – mainly other celebrities and musicians. Unless it’s someone you’ve known since you were a kid, there’s no such thing as a true friendship in this business. On top of those, there always seemed to be a scattering of girls wearing barely more than their underwear at these parties. I’m pretty sure most of them are Matt’s ‘friends’.
