Cocktails, Rock Tales & Betrayals Read online

  At the start, the couple were definitely hot property and it hadn't done Alik's reputation any harm to be seen in some of the bars and clubs that Edie frequented. It had been a whirlwind of parties and events and had brought Blood Stone Riot into the public eye a bit more, although he did sometimes wrestle with the mainstream publicity. Having Olivia on board to do the band's official PR was a definite plus. He'd witnessed the work she had been doing for Edie and The Magpie and if she could translate those results for the band, then it wouldn't be long before they would be headlining the Wilde Park Festival, rather than just being part of the bill.

  Scribbling some more lyrics on the back of an envelope, he wondered what Caro was doing. Then he remembered that she'd been at the gig with Jonny Tyler and she had said they were together. Alik snorted, knowing that in Jonny's world "together" probably meant for that night. He couldn't believe that someone as headstrong and intelligent as Caro was being taken in by the promoter. And then he wondered why he should care so much.

  He strummed the chords and quietly sang the words, trying to get the phrasing and flow of the song right, trying to capture the feeling of Juju's.

  “Hey,” said Edie, standing in the doorway of the living room, yawning. She was clad in a t-shirt of Alik's that was way too big for her delicate frame, although still very short, exposing her perfect legs. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail and with her face bare of make-up, she looked fresh and innocent. “When are you coming to bed?”

  Alik glanced up at the clock and was surprised to see that it was after five in the morning. They had got back shortly after three and he'd said he wouldn't be long. Reluctantly, he put the guitar down on the sofa beside him. He'd forgotten that he couldn't stay up and play guitar all night when he had a girlfriend.

  Well, at least not when that girlfriend was Edie. She came over to the sofa and straddled him, the t-shirt slipping up to reveal her pert buttocks, clad in a pair of candy pink, lace trimmed scanty knickers.

  “When you're in my bed, I shouldn't really have any excuse for not being there, should I?” he said.

  Reaching around so he was cupping her arse, he got up off the sofa, Edie still in his arms, her legs finding their way around his body as he carried her off into the bedroom.

  Chapter Six

  The morning after the gig at The Vegas, Blood Stone Riot attended a breakfast meeting to meet with their artist development manager at Numb Records. The band had travelled to London along with Griffen, to go through the plans for the next few months. The record company offices were in the West End, near Soho. The rich, glamorous, and beautiful were out in force.

  Alik tried not to be impressed as they were shown to a top floor office with views over the city, but it was hard not to be. After all, they were just a small town band trying to make it big, like so many others before them. They trooped down a corridor adorned with silver and gold records, although the elusive platinum appeared absent. Billy and Nate headed directly for the table that had been laid out with bacon rolls and pastries.

  “I could get used to this!” said Billy, loading a plate with savoury snacks and sweet treats before helping himself to a large mug of coffee, heaping in sugar and milk.

  The others followed suit, settling down around the table and enjoying the food in a companionable silence, except for the occasional remark complaining about how early it was.

  Alik was mainlining black coffee. The effects of a late night gig, limited sleep, and an untimely wake up call were starting to kick in. He hoped he wouldn't end up yawning at an inopportune moment or nodding off during the session. He was a little nervous about the meeting. He'd heard from a few other bands that had got to this point and had been asked to change what made them successful in the first place. There would be nothing worse than having to work with someone who was into hipster music and wanted them to be the next Coldplay. Because that was never going to happen. He wouldn't allow it.

  He took a seat at one end of the table, drumming his fingers on the surface as he looked at the clock.

  The door swung open and Parker Roberts entered.

  Having not had any preconceptions of what he might be like, Alik was surprised to see a tall, skinny man in his early thirties, immaculately turned out in a Savile Row suit, with perfectly coiffured hair. He certainly wouldn't have looked out of place in the Square Mile. Immediately, Alik was suspicious. What did a guy like this know about what they did? This meet and greet was pointless, particularly as Parker hadn't even been at one of their gigs. Surely Griffen and Parker could just get together or exchange a few emails and get the same outcome. And at least get Parker to a gig. He guessed that the meeting was something to do with the label showing that they cared about their acts.

  “Good to meet you, Parker,” said Alik. “Although I didn't know we were signing with a city boy banker.”

  “And what makes you think that?” asked Parker.

  Alik gestured to Parker’s suit and made a face.

  Parker raised his eyebrows in response. “Looks can be deceiving,” he said. “Shall we start again?” He settled himself into the seat at the head of the table, opposite Alik, focusing directly on the singer. “The rough demos of your stuff are great and even better live, so it's a good thing we've already signed a deal with you, otherwise there would be competition!”

  “You haven't even seen us live,” said Alik.

  Parker fixed him with a stare. “Then we need to rectify that.” He looked over to Griffen. “Sort that out, yeah?”

  Without further hesitation, he began talking through the plans for the band, gigs he'd lined up for them, warm ups to the Wilde Park Festival, ideas for their first video shoot - which included having Josh O'Brien direct it - merchandise, tour schedules. He threw out dates, venues, support slots, bands they could tour with. The information just kept coming and coming. Alik had a rough idea of how things worked, but he was more interested in the creative side. And finding out how many sales they made, of course.

  As Parker continued explaining his role with the band and what he would do for them, Alik found himself warming to the guy. Not a lot, but enough to know that if he was going to spending a lot of time with Parker Roberts, he needed to know more about him.

  Parker wound the session up and the others started to drift off. Alik approached him. He waited patiently, admiring the view, while Parker had a few words with Griffen. And then it was just the two of them.

  “Ah, Mr. Thorne, the uber-talented guitar muso.” Parker bowed his head.

  “You got that right,” Alik grinned. “Got any more meetings today? Thought we might head out for a drink.”

  “Nothing that can't be cancelled. Give me five minutes, I'll meet you in the lobby.”

  He was true to his word, and just over five minutes later joined Alik in reception. They walked less than a hundred and fifty yards down the road to The Blind Pig and Parker waltzed straight upstairs, clearly a regular. The interior was decorated with a vintage twist of antique mirrored ceilings, reclaimed wooden chairs, and a copper-topped bar. There was certainly nothing to rival it in North Ridge. Parker ordered them a couple of whisky-based cocktails and they took a table in the corner.

  “I guess you're wondering why I'm the one looking after you,” said Parker, straight out. He clearly was a sensible guy.

  Alik nodded. “You don't exactly look like someone who has any knowledge or understanding of rock and metal, so yeah, I'm keen to know why you wanted to work with us. You look like you're more suited to the indie world or maybe some kind of bubblegum pop princess.”

  Parker took his iPhone from his pocket and tossed it across the table to Alik. “No code, check out the music. And if you're not convinced, maybe some of the pictures as well.”

  Alik did as he said, scrolling through bands he knew and admired, both old and classic; Five Finger Death Punch, Lamb of God, Pantera, Slipknot, Aerosmith, Guns 'n' Roses... the list went on. Checking that he wasn't just a fair weather fan or just had thi
s pre-loaded in case he was asked about his music tastes, Alik fired a number of questions at Parker that he was able to answer with the speed of only a true fan. They bantered over obscure bands they had seen before they were famous, the best gigs they had been to and the bands they wished they had seen.

  “Man, I wish I'd been at Milton Keynes for GnR in 1993,” Alik said. “Great band, never saw them live.”

  “God, yes, Blind Melon, Soul Asylum, and The Cult. Of course, he's dead now, just like a number of his peers. God only knows how they’re still alive.”

  They carried on talking and Alik realised this had probably been the most fun he’d had in a long while. If you didn’t count the time he’d spent with Caro in Mallorca.

  Chapter Seven

  Builders and decorators mixed with film students and extras at The Indigo Lounge on the morning of Blood Stone Riot's video shoot. Nic had generously offered Alik and the band the use of the club to film some of the scenes for 'Bleed Like Cyanide,' the lead track on the EP, that they hoped to release as a single. Parker Roberts had drafted in Josh O'Brien, an up and coming director, to shoot the video as he had done successfully for a couple of other emerging bands in the genre. It was something of a coup, as he was in high demand, but he liked the challenge of working with new bands and pushing the boundaries, where established groups were more nervous about doing anything different. It was another master stroke that was really helping Olivia's PR campaign. She and Parker had been working pretty hard to make sure the band had the best possible press.

  Josh was in dialogue with one of the cameramen; he was a thin, wiry chap and wore wire-rimmed glasses that he kept pushing back on his nose, as they slipped off with annoying regularity. Blood Stone Riot wanted to compete and make an impact and getting Josh involved was certainly one way of doing that. The director was currently standing on the dance floor, consulting his script and barking orders at the runners who were putting props on the stage.

  Caro and Olivia were on the VIP balcony, surveying the activity going on beneath them, cups of coffee in hand.

  “Such a good idea of Nic's, particularly if we can get the single out to coincide with the opening,” said Olivia, resting her elbows on the edge of the balcony.

  “Mmm, so good to have the club over run with egos just when we're trying to get everything finished.”

  Olivia flashed her a sidelong glance. “By ego, do you mean Alik?”

  Caro grunted. Since their run in at The Vegas, Alik had become a permanent fixture in the club and had been working with Josh on the script for the video. The pair had hit it off instantly and were frequently found bent over Josh's laptop, pointing at ideas and inspiration. Or laughing at pointless clips of jocks falling over and hurting themselves, Jackass-style. It was like working with children. On a couple of occasions Edie had popped in, totally ignoring Caro's presence and chatting with the boys, often excluding her from the conversation. It was a bit like being back at college and not being included by the cool kids. Caro's response had been to see a lot more of Jonny, inviting him to the club and planning promotions with him. There had been a few times when Caro and Alik had been alone and the night in Mallorca hung in the air between them, the elephant in the room.

  But they didn't speak of it.

  * * *

  “Are you sure about this, Alik?” Josh asked, surveying the scene in front of him.

  A huge wooden cross dominated the centre of the stage and behind it, the walls had been dressed in swathes of black and red velvet, with various implements of torture, including handcuffs, whips, shackles and chains.

  “You know we wrote it like this,” Alik replied. He caught sight of Caro walking across the floor towards them.

  “Love what you've done with the place, maybe we should leave it like this after you've finished,” she said to Josh, with a smile.

  “What and have people think you're an S&M club?” he replied.

  She smirked. “Might bring a few extra punters in. Maybe we should consider a bondage night. I'll suggest it to Nic. Talking of which, I really should get back to him otherwise he'll think I'm skiving. Again.” She wandered off in the direction of the office.

  Alik responded by flirting outrageously with the make-up artist who was preparing him for the shoot, making risqué suggestions to her until Josh came over and rescued the woman.

  “Ignore him, I think he's just over excited about making a video with me,” said Josh, without a trace of irony.

  The woman giggled and left to work on the extras who were getting ready backstage.

  “Thanks, Josh, now you make me sound like a child.” Alik rolled his eyes at the director.

  “A child, huh?” Josh smiled. “Remember, I've seen the storyboards you suggested for this piece and I don't think there's much of a PG rating going on. Are you sure we're not playing out your sexual fantasies on screen?”

  Alik grinned. “Who said anything about fantasy?”

  “Shall we get on with it then?”

  Alik peeled off his shirt and vaulted onto the stage, followed by Josh and one of the runners, and moved towards the cross before turning his back to it and raising his arms in the air.

  “Are you sure about this?” asked Josh.

  “Just do it.”

  Josh shrugged and nodded to the runner. A couple of minutes later, Alik was lashed to the cross in a Jesus Christ post, unable to move. He flexed his arms, testing the strength of the rope, but was totally powerless.

  “Right, who wants to oil him up?” Josh looked around for the make-up artist, but couldn't see her. The remainder of the volunteers in the room were all male and looked at the floor or shuffled around trying to look busy doing other things.

  “I'll do it.”

  The sound of Caro's voice grabbed Alik's attention, it's husky undertones an immediate turn on.

  “I said I'll do it,” she said.

  Alik watched her catch the bottle of baby oil that Josh threw at her and make her way onto the stage. He shifted uneasily, wondering what she was going to do.

  Her eyes locked on his. Violet on blue.

  And that spark was there again.

  He frowned slightly. She raised her eyebrows in response. She stopped inches in front of him.

  “Where would you like me to start?”

  “Where you want to.” His heart started to beat a little faster.

  Alik watched as Caro opened the bottle and tipped a little of the oil into her hand. She placed the bottle on the floor and straightened up, rubbing her hands together. Staring him directly in the eye, she placed her palms on his chest. His breathing became shallower as she began stroking the oil over his pecs, the tips of her fingers brushing over his erect nipples, playing the the sensitive area around his nipple ring, moving slowly along his biceps, to his wrists, down his back until finally she caressed his stomach.

  Her touch was light, slow, erotic.

  Alik wanted her to stop and carry on all at once. His senses were working overtime. Her hands slipped around his waist, her fingers dipping in and out of the band of his jeans, and he was now acutely aware of the audience they had.

  She met his gaze again.

  Laughing to herself, she withdrew and stepped back.

  “Prick tease,” he said, hissing and straining against the rope that bound him. “Untie me.”

  “I don't think so, Alik, after all, isn't that the idea behind this video?” she said. “The defenceless victim in the power of the women surrounding him, totally unable to resist the charms of his tormentors, ‘poison creeping, flesh eating, cut too deep you can fucking bleed, bleed like cyanide...’” She lowered her tone as she leaned in closer to him again, using the lyrics of the song to illustrate her point.

  Her voice was low and hypnotic, but Alik tried not to fall under its spell. Her touch had him incredibly aroused and he was fleetingly pleased that she still stood directly in front of him as his erection bulged against the fly of his jeans. He could smell her perfume, the fresh, cle
an scent he identified with her, and it was driving him crazy.

  “Dammit, woman, let me go,” said Alik, struggling to get some give on the rope.

  Caro smiled and shook her heard. “Josh, I think he's ready now.” She tossed the bottle of oil back to the director and walked away.

  Alik glared at her as she left the stage. The female extras joined him, directed by Josh as to where to stand and what to do. He could still feel Caro's touch burning his skin.

  The camera rolled, and his desperation was fitting in perfectly with what he had scripted, but each touch from the extras drove him insane. As a result, they kept having to stop and re-start the filming, as he kept flinching.

  The exquisite torture he was experiencing was translating well to the screen, and after a while Josh called a halt to proceedings.

  “That's fantastic, ladies, I think we have it just about right,” he said. “I wasn't sure at first, but Alik, you nailed it.”

  The immediate thought that flashed through Alik's head was how much he'd like to nail Caro right now. He wriggled impatiently as he was finally cut free from the cross.

  “Where is she?”

  “Who?” asked Josh

  “Your very tactile assistant.”

  “I think she went back up to the VIP bar with Olivia.”

  Alik bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He spotted Caro immediately, her back to him as she talked to Olivia.

  “What sort of fucked up power game were you playing down there?” he said, grabbing her arm and whisking her round to face him.

  Caro shrugged, pulling herself free from his grasp. “No game, just thought you'd appreciate getting in the mood for the shoot.”