Читать книгу Come Alive - Madelynne Ellis, Madelynne Ellis - Страница 9

Xane pottered around in the kitchen and made a sandwich before making any pretence of looking for Spook. He’d been here before, when Spook was viewing the property with a view to purchasing it. The layout was relatively simple: main house, with not very many rooms, and a few outbuildings – one for guests, a strange folly-like building by the water’s edge that purportedly now housed the studio, and the all-important Swedish lifestyle essential, a sauna and communal shower shack. To be fair, the latter building had a lot of potential for anyone with a fetish for shower sex or even water sports. He didn’t think the latter rocked Spook’s boat, but who knew, his friend certainly had a taste for S&M. Admittedly, he didn’t indulge it, but that might not always be the case. And Spook was nothing if not prepared for every eventuality.

Despite the lateness of the hour the sun was still shining when Xane stepped outside. Spook’s lawn was manicured to within an inch of its life; hardly a surprise given how much of a neat freak he was. Xane wandered down to the water’s edge and watched the gentle waves breaking over the rocks. Three weeks ago, when he’d stepped onto the stage in Karlstad and heard Luthor first drum out the beat of one of their songs on Steve’s old drumkit, he’d believed everything was finally going to be all right. Two hours later, Ash had nose-dived off the ego-riser, and he’d been nearly drowned by their psychotic temporary drummer, but at least his relationship woes had been sorted. Now he wasn’t so sure about that. He recognised cold feet when he saw them, and Dani’s were currently icy.

Damn, he’d been seriously looking forward to spending some quality time with Luthor, but he wasn’t about to break his promises to Dani. He guessed that’s why he was here, down by the water’s edge, and not over at the Little House.

Whatever time he spent with Luthor at present wouldn’t be quality time, only a lesson in frustration.

The whirr of a motor interrupted the silence by the shore. Xane raised his hand to shield his gaze as he peered up at the sky. A chopper emerged from behind the treetops to the rear of Spook’s property. The wind from the blades buffeted his skin as the helicopter settled down in the middle of the lawn. Ash, he realised, as two figures, one male and one female, emerged from the noisy beast’s belly, the woman single-mindedly carrying both rucksacks despite the obvious entreaties of the man. Heads ducked, the two of them scurried towards the building before turning to watch the helicopter depart.

‘Hey, down here.’ Xane waved both hands at them.

Ash waved back and headed towards him, despite an exasperated entreaty from Ginny to come into the house.

They met on a stretch of paved terracing that Xane realised was an elaborate sundial. ‘Ash, it’s fucking good to see you, man.’ He wrapped his arms around his favourite lead guitarist, before holding him at arm’s length to get a good look at him. Ash wasn’t quite his perky, handsome self. His skin still had a waxy pallor, and deep lines were etched beneath his eyes, but he was smiling and there was no glaze to his vision.

‘Bloody peachy. How about you?’

‘Same old. Gorgeous, melancholy and sexually frustrated.’

‘Tell me about it. I’ve been stuck in a hospital bed for forever, and while they’re happy to hold a pot up for you to piss in, they draw a line at helping you masturbate. Apparently having blue balls isn’t considered life-threatening.’

Xane grimaced. Blue balls sounded pretty terrible to him.

Ginny joined them on the plateau. ‘Xane. Hi.’ She accepted his welcoming hug. ‘Ash, come inside. You need to sit down.’

‘I don’t need to fucking sit down. I’ve done nothing but sit down. Standing up isn’t going to kill me, Ginny. You go in. I’m sure Spook will tell you where to shove the bags. I’ll follow in a bit.’

He waved Ginny away. She scowled, but went.

‘Stroll?’ Xane suggested.

Ash nodded. ‘Love to. She’s driving me insane. She’s worse than the nurses for mollycoddling me. I like being fawned over as much as the next man, but I’m not a frigging invalid.’

‘She’s just concerned. You had us all worried.’

‘Yeah.’ Ash sniffed and looked away into the distance.

Xane took the hint. What had happened had happened, and they didn’t need to go over it, or dwell on the fact that it had screwed him six ways to Sunday. They just needed to move on.

‘Have you got some new lyrics for us to work on?’

Xane retrieved his rolled-up notebook from his back pocket. ‘I’ve a couple of things. Some fine tuning’s still required, and I’ve a couple of chords for a few potential tracks but nothing completed. We’ve time though. It’ll happen.’

‘Obviously you’ve not been screwing enough, or is it you’ve been humping too much? How’s Dani coping with you making her part of a triad?’

He mumbled something non-committal but generally affirmative. Ash didn’t want to dwell on his injuries, and Xane didn’t want to dissect his relationship. ‘I was on my way to check out the studio. Want to join me?’

‘Are the rest of the gang going to be there?’

‘Not as far as I know. I assume they’re all still unpacking. We’re not long arrived ourselves, and Elspeth isn’t here at all.’

‘We nearly weren’t here either. Someone obviously let slip where we were taking off from. There were fans on the launch pad. Four storeys up, security crawling all over the place and there are bodies literally jumping to grab hold of the bottom of the chopper.’

‘That’s nuts.’

‘People are nuts.’

‘At least you’re here in one piece.’ Not only that, Ash sounded better. The last time they’d spoken, Xane had barely been able to understand one word in ten, Ash had been slurring and jumbling his words so badly.

‘Wherever the fuck here happens to be. I thought Sweden was supposed to be cold and snow-covered. As far as I can tell it’s predominantly lake.’

‘We’re a fraction west of Stockholm and a teeny bit further south.’

‘You’re assuming I could locate Stockholm on a map. I hear city names. I get on and off planes and in and out of buses. I don’t pay attention to where any of the places we perform are in relation to one another.’

That was true; geography had never been Ash’s subject of choice. Although it was foolish to imagine he was thick. The guy had a double first in history and philosophy from a world-class university.

‘Where’s this studio of Spook’s then?’

‘This way, I think, on the other side of these bushes. It’s right on the water’s edge. The lower floor floods on a regular basis, which is apparently a design feature, at least according to the estate agent.’ He raised his hands to convey his perplexity over that one. ‘Spook’s converted the upper storey.’

‘Shit ton of expensive electrical equipment installed over a swimming pool, that’s totally where I’d have installed it too.’ Ash rolled his eyes. ‘Why do I suspect it’s actually an elaborate method of containing us so that we work our butts off?’

‘It’s a pretty prison,’ Xane announced, for they’d reached the octagonal architectural folly. ‘Now, if I remember correctly –’ he leaped across a couple of stepping stones, getting the soles of his shoes wet, to reach the external double doors ‘– the inside is something of a spectacle.’

The reality, it turned out, was less garish than he remembered. Perhaps the lack of furnishings allowed the detailed mosaics to stand on their own. Ash didn’t seem to notice the winking mermaids and pincer-waving crabs. He headed straight for the metal staircase and followed the spiral to the upper storey. Xane quickly caught up. He didn’t know quite what he’d expected to find upstairs, but Spook or whoever he’d hired to refurbish the place and install the equipment had done a spectacular job. What had been a very dull guestroom was now an industry-standard sound studio, complete with top-of-the-range equipment and a separate soundproof recording booth that would also double nicely as a rehearsal space. Not only that, there was enough seating that no one was going to be left perching on the arm of a chair or sitting on the floor in a corner.

The designer had even had the presence of mind to include a WC in the plans, so they wouldn’t lose precious moments trekking back and forth to the main house, or pissing in the lake.

‘I was anticipating something far less flashy,’ Ash admitted.

‘Same.’ Xane idly pushed a few of the sliders on the sound deck. ‘I reckon we could record the whole of the next album here. No need to go anywhere else, we’ll just get the producer to come to us.’

‘It’s an option,’ Ash agreed.

The sound of footsteps thundering below caused them both to turn towards the stairs. A moment later Rock Giant’s head appeared, followed by the rest of him, plus both Spook and Luthor.

‘Ash!’ Rock Giant whooped. He scooped Ash off his feet and did a pirouette, holding him in mid-air, before dropping him and thumping him repeatedly across the back. ‘You’re here. You’re fucking here. Yes.’

Ash staggered and sank into the sofa behind him, whereupon Spook filled the seat beside him. ‘Good to see you in something that isn’t a granddad-style pair of pyjamas.’ Ash was wearing his favourite Danger Mouse T-shirt. It fit rather less snugly than it had the last time Xane had seen him in it.

‘We’re all here, I see,’ Ash commented, ignoring the reference to his recent hospital stay.

‘Does this mean we’re getting straight down to work?’

‘I think we ought to put our new boy through his paces first,’ Rock Giant said. He grabbed hold of Luthor and shoved him to the front of the huddle. ‘I know he did well on stage, but none of us were exactly looking out for faults. He’s a fully committed member of the gang now, so we ought to get to grips with one another’s playing styles.’

‘You just want to jam,’ Xane remarked. Luthor didn’t need to prove himself. They all knew he could play. Still, the consensus appeared to be that it wouldn’t hurt to pick up their instruments. Cases were dragged out of the corner where they’d been stacked, and amps and microphones plugged in and linked up. Ash’s beloved Gibson Les Paul was sadly no longer with them as it had smashed beneath him when he’d nosedived off the ego-riser in Karlstad, but someone, most likely their chief roadie, had procured another guitar.

Ash settled its strap across his shoulders. ‘White?’ he questioned. ‘Who thought that was a good idea for a goth band?’

‘It’s probably all the local music shop had. You can order something else. Maybe even get a custom-build,’ Spook suggested. ‘It’s not like you’re strapped for cash.’

‘What does he need to do that for? He has about fifteen other guitars at home,’ Rock Giant remarked, as he played a couple of test chords. ‘Phone your mum and get her to ship one of them out here.’

‘And what if it gets lost or damaged in transit?’

Spook nodded in horrified agreement over the possibility. His grip tightened around the neck of his purple Washburn, as if it were at risk of being torn from his hands.

Xane went to help Luthor set up the drumkit, and left the others snipping at one another. He knelt beside Luthor. ‘How’s your room?’

‘About what I’d expected when I heard it was an annex. There’s a bed, a wood stove … It’s fine.’

It sounded rather more rustic than Xane had anticipated, and Rock Giant’s sudden bellow of ‘Little House! You’re fucking not joking’ seemed to reflect that.

‘It’s not a house, it’s a chicken coop, and I’m not a fricking chicken.’ Rock Giant squared up against Spook. ‘I thought we were getting the guesthouse with the pool table and the PS4.’

‘I don’t have a pool table.’

Xane would lay money on Spook not owning a games console either. Spook might be seriously kick-ass at various assassin-style games, but he only ever played when he was cajoled into doing so. Most of the time, he was happy sticking things into his scrapbooks or shopping for yet another pair of baseball boots.

‘You don’t have a guesthouse either.’ Rock Giant flapped his arms and made clucking noises.

‘It’s specifically designed for guest accommodation. You’ll find that sort of wooden building all over Sweden.’

‘Bollocks it is.’

‘It is,’ Luthor muttered under his breath so that only Xane appeared to hear. ‘Not that I’m saying Rock Giant is wrong. Glass doors, a sloped roof and decent heating don’t change the fact that it’s basically two beds stuffed into a box.’

Xane helped tighten a particularly difficult bolt. ‘I’d offer you an alternative, but Dani wants to get settled in first.’

‘You mean she wants to keep you all to herself.’

‘Just for a bit. Give it a day or so.’

‘Nothing’s really changed, has it?’ Luthor remarked. Having finished arranging the kit, he stood and set his stool in position.

‘Everything’s changed.’ They could talk and touch and fuck without him having to feel guilty about it. Dani had accepted that, given his libido did rather rule his life and he couldn’t comprehend not indulging the disparate aspects of his sexuality, the best option was for him to have a proper relationship with Luthor in addition to the one he had with her.

‘Are you certain of that? We haven’t seen one another for weeks, but I can’t show you how much I’ve missed you because any sort of intimacy is restricted to when Dani chooses to allow it. Do you have any idea how hard it’s been, living apart from you but knowing that you were with her, fucking her? I had no idea if we’d still even be on when I returned. I’m honestly not sure now if we’re still a thing, Xane.’

‘We’re still a thing.’ He grinned. ‘And I’ve a notion or two about how I’d like to stick you with my thing.’

The remark at least raised a chuckle. Joy shone in Luthor’s mismatched eyes for a moment, before he turned away. ‘What makes you think I’m going to let you stick your thing in any part of me?’

‘Maybe the beautiful poem you sent me the other day. What was the title again? “Ode to Your Cock”.’

‘I did not send you any such thing.’

‘You didn’t? Fuck – you’re right, that was me, after I wanked myself silly for forty minutes thinking about how much fun I was going to have playing with yours once we got here. I think it went in the lyrics book.’ He took the rolled-up pad out of his back pocket and made a show of flicking through the leaves.

Luthor made a grab for the book, but Xane bolted out of reach.

‘Please tell me the first song you’ve written for the new album isn’t a ballad about his cock,’ Rock Giant sighed. He drubbed his knuckles against his forehead.

‘Nah, it’s more of a folk-metal fusion.’ God, they were easy to wind up.

‘I refuse to record a track about his drumstick.’

‘Brings a new meaning to the concept of cock rock,’ Ash said with a chuckle.

Luthor had turned pink all along the ridges of his cheekbones. It made Xane want to pin him against the wall and smooch his full, expressive lips until that wash of colour was evident in a place or two more.

‘Are we going to start?’ Spook asked.

Several shouts of ‘yes’ came in response.

‘“Hole”,’ someone proposed, prompting scattered laughter. It wouldn’t have been Xane’s first choice, but it was one of their bigger and most beloved hits, and it would give his voice a decent warm-up. It was a heck of a long time since he’d rested his vocal cords for this amount of time. He hoped they hadn’t got rusty.

He opened with a long wail.

Actually, that felt damned good.