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Joe
They’d settled in the office, well away from the others who’d done a very tactful job of not commenting on Gus’s physical appearance when they all burst into the kitchen earlier. Even Lance had managed to be gracious seeing as days earlier he’d been trying to steal Gus’s job. Nanou looked traumatised, Ace crestfallen and oblivious to everyone’s concern, Edie had been a star and made them all drinks. Lance just hovered and had the grace to look sheepish.
Once the small talk was over and they’d played what felt like charades, Gus asked Ace to bring his things from the car and when he stood and took his briefcase, Joe knew something was up.
‘Right, me and your dad need to catch up on some business so we’ll get the boring stuff done then we can crack open a bottle.’ He was already making for the door and amidst the casual tone of his statement, there was an underlying urgency in his actions.
Now, Joe, seated in his armchair, watched as Gus, from behind the desk that held a knackered old fax machine and a fancy Mac, unclipped his briefcase and took out a stack of paperwork which he placed on the table, then swivelled in his chair to face the music.
‘So, when are you going to tell me what’s wrong? I know something’s up. Christ, Gus, you look like shit. You said you’d seen the quack and it was all under control and…’ Joe pointed, ‘it clearly isn’t.’
Gus rested his head and closed his eyes for a second before looking Joe in the eye. ‘I have cardiac cachexia, it happens sometimes when people have heart failure, like me. It causes body wasting and you lose a serious amount of fat, muscle and bone and before you ask, no, it can’t be reversed.’ Gus waited; sad eyes locked on Joe.
‘But I thought you were going to have surgery, a bypass. You saw that guy in Harley Street, right?’ Joe was not giving up on Gus, no matter what it cost he’d get him better.
The slow nod of the head and a benevolent smile sent a chill through Joe’s bones, as did Gus’s next words. ‘Joe. I have chronic heart failure and even if I keep taking the pills and being good, I’m a heart attack waiting to happen. It’s my own fault, the lifestyle I’ve led, for ignoring the signs all these years, thinking I’m invincible but I’m not giving up. I have another appointment booked next month so I’ll keep you informed… and thank you, for footing the bill.’
Joe swallowed down the panic. He needed to think about Gus and not himself, and get a fucking grip, not fall apart even though he was terrified. The thought of losing his best friend freaked him out. ‘I mean it, Gus, I don’t care how much it costs, we’re going to get this sorted, okay? And if that means sacking off the Harley Street quack, we can go somewhere else, here, the States, wherever. I’m not ready to lose you yet. I’m the ultimate selfish bastard who needs his mate around, so do as you’re told. Okay!’
At least he made Gus laugh, and elicited a weary promise. ‘Okay, okay… I agree. Anything to get you off my back but I warn you, for what time I’ve got left I’m going to enjoy it. I’m not living like a monk. And if they can give me a bionic heart or whatever they do these days, me and you are going to have some fun. Is that a deal?’
Joe laughed. This was more like it, seeing Gus off the ropes, ready to fight. ‘It’s a deal. So, is there any other business? I thought I was in trouble when you shuffled me into the headmaster’s office.’
When Gus rubbed his forehead and sighed, the jovial atmosphere in the office dipped. ‘The thing is, Joe, you are in trouble or should I say NorthStar is. Some serious shit is about to hit the fan.’
There was no way, as far as Joe could see, that when met with a statement like that anyone could not experience a swell of fear and utter confusion that renders you speechless, lips numb, brain freeze spreading downwards leaving your bones rigid.
Gus’s lips and brain were working just fine. ‘I had a call from a lawyer late last night, stateside, a courtesy call I suppose. I didn’t ring you because there was no reason for both of us to lose sleep and once I’d spoken to the legal guys at our end, I headed straight here on the first flight.’
Finally, brain connected with body parts. ‘What the fuck is going on?’ His first logical port of call was the bank… had they made some massive losses, had someone stolen money? It happened.
Gus stood, slowly, stretching his legs before he moved towards the window and after taking a moment, turned to face Joe. ‘There’s a documentary about to be aired on one of the big channels, Netflix, an exposé that’s complemented by a book and the author, Gina Zilli, is about to embark on a huge promotional tour before both are released.’
‘Who the fuck is Gina Zilli and how does that affect…’ Then the light dawned. Joe’s insides were turning, remembering the news reports and constant hounding after two women died, women connected with the band. It had been one of the lowest points of his career, life, and he didn’t think he could go through it all again or understand why someone would be dragging it all up.
Gus began to pace. ‘Until we’ve seen or read it, there’s no way of knowing if they’ll mention Wendy and Felipa.’
Just hearing the names of the two women, one a mere fifteen-year-old named Wendy who’d been found dead of an overdose in the tour bus after a gig in Birmingham, or Felipa who had drowned in the pool of Joe’s rented villa in Cancún, sickened him. They were the reason why slowly he’d withdrawn from the media glare, the guilt he’d felt at their deaths sending him into a spiral of drink and depression and he prayed that the media would just leave them be, Wendy, Felipa and him. It wasn’t his fault, he was nowhere near when both women died and he was totally cleared by the police and coroners, but not the papers. It happened at another wild, NorthStar party, during another tour. They never forgot, and probably never would.
‘So, what is it then?’ For some reason after the brain freeze had thawed, Joe was starting to feel the glow of anger because his old friend was sick and had travelled miles in his state, to bring bad news that as far as he knew, was of someone else’s making.
Gus flopped into the office chair; the springs creaked as the frame rocked. ‘The author has gathered together a number of women who have decided to speak out about what happened to them when they were younger, all of them minors. They not only expose the men, bands and their management, but a society of abusers who trafficked girls and offered them up to members of the rock world.’
Joe dragged his hands across his face. ‘Jesus, and they’ve mentioned NorthStar.’
Gus nodded. ‘It seems so, and one name in particular.’
The air in the room was still and Joe waited, knowing exactly whose name Gus was going to say so he said it for him. ‘Denny.’
Gus made a whooshing noise, more than a sigh, it sounded like the lies and secrets they’d all told and kept for years had come rushing out, escaping, swirling around the room like crazed spirits ecstatic to finally be free, out there in the open. ‘Yes, Denny. It looks like after all these years his sins are coming back to haunt him and if he goes down, he will drag us all with him, by association. You, me, NorthStar and everything we’ve worked for. The scandal could destroy us.’
Rage, immense, deep-seated rage and loathing swamped Joe and he barely managed to keep it in. ‘Have you spoken to him?’
‘No, not yet. I wanted you to be the first to know but our lawyers have been informed and are waiting for me to say the word and they’ll contact him. The way I feel right now I’d have trouble keeping it civil. I’m sure he’ll be on the phone the second he hears but until then I’d rather avoid him.’
‘We need to warn Chaz and Stevie… and then get our heads together because I can see how this might play out once the press is on the story. The mud from that arsehole Denny is going to stick to us even though it was him that had a thing for the young girls, not us. Christ, what are my lads going to think, our Margaret, the family?’
Gus leant forward and rested his arms on his knees. ‘They know you weren’t a saint – we all do and so do your fans. The wild side of rock and roll goes hand in hand with your persona. Joe Jarrett sold records because they loved everything about you, but that doesn’t mean you’re like Denny and that’s what we need to focus on. You, Chaz and Stevie will need to stick together. It’s going to be a shitstorm when the news breaks and that new album you had planned might need to go on the back burner for a while. See how things pan out.’
