Jase shook his head and held out his hand as they walked down the stairs to the door. “I need your house keys.” Keys they’d collected that morning.
Cerys reached into her pocket before placing the keys onto his palm. “Here. Why do you need them?”
“What’s the point of having an uncle in the trade if you don’t persuade him to help freshen up the place?”
Her eyes popped wide. “Really? I mean, can you do that?”
He grinned. “I called the landlord. We can only paint it cream or white, but he admitted it had been a while since the place had been given a coat of paint and agreed to let us do it. So Matt, Luke if he shows up, Alex, Ben, and Uncle Allan, and me are going to go in and paint it from top to bottom while you deal with all this.”
“Thank you. And tell Little Jase that I’ll thank him later properly too.”
With another brief kiss, given the contractors were waiting, Jase made his way back to the tram. As he looked down to the canal, watching the narrowboats moored up along its bank, he wondered how his life had become so perfect in such a small span of time.
20
While they had the money to take the first-class train carriage down to London, they didn’t quite have the behaviour. Twice the conductor had been over to tell them to be quiet. But how could they? Upper Street, and Jimmy Bexter, who had flown in specially, were waiting for them at the end of their two-hour train ride.
Three weeks had passed since Cerys’s arrival. Three glorious weeks of making music and making love in equal measure. The tension that had always been in his body had dissipated. He hadn’t noticed it fading, but one day, he realised he felt loose. And nothing big had caused it. He’d slept over at Cerys’s and had crept downstairs to make her a cup of tea while she showered before heading to another long day at the studio. While he waited for the kettle to boil, he made a ham and cheese sandwich, grabbed an apple, and one of the chocolate chip granola bars she loved, and packed them into her lunch box. And as rain had rattled the kitchen windows, and the kettle bubbled its way to the boil, he realised he was . . . happy.
Evidence of the breakfast Cerys and Chaya had pulled together for them to eat on the train lay strewn across the two tables. Cinnamon buns, yoghurt and granola, berries, orange juice. It was nice to see Cerys making friends with the people he loved most in the world. Ben was deep in conversation with Cerys about the pros and cons of solid state and tube amps. Chaya leaned into the aisle to talk to Alex on the opposite table and discuss details of the surprise party they were throwing for his Auntie Pat. Matt and Iz were looking at new apartments online, debating the pros and cons of getting a bigger place. Luke slept; his head leaned up against the glass. He hadn’t made it to Nan’s dinner for them all. And recently, he’d shown up late to pretty much anything the band organised. It was ironic just how frustrating Jase found it, given that just a few months before, that had been him.
He placed his palm on Cerys’s thigh and squeezed.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we’ll shortly be arriving at London Euston station.” The rest of the announcement was lost as they all began to pack up their belongings. Chaya pulled out a carrier bag for them to dump their garbage into.
Two cabs later, they pulled up just down the street from Upper Street Records, outside a small cafe where Jimmy had been waiting for them. Cerys threw her arms around her dad, and Jase had to quell the bite of envy that he’d never have that kind of relationship with his own dad.
“Jason Palmer,” Jimmy said, shaking his hand. “Hope you are looking after my daughter.”
“Pretty certain your daughter can take care of herself.” He had more he wanted to say. He’d not forgotten the wobbles Cerys had arrived with. But now wasn’t the time.
As they approached Upper Street Records, Jase looked over to the spot he’d tossed a coin to decide whether or not he should attend their very first meeting with the label four months ago. The idea he could have missed out on everything that had happened since thundered through him like an out-of-control truck. To think of everything he would have lost was a mindfuck.
They wouldn’t have been able to attend a first listen with their new label.
They wouldn’t have an album.
He would never have gone to Detroit.
He’d never have met Cerys.
He and Matt would have drifted even further apart.
And without her, he’d never have started to repair the damage he’d done to the band over the years.
Or the damage he’d done to himself.
Instead, he was walking along a London street, holding his girlfriend’s hand, while her father coached the band one last time on how to interact with the label during the listen through.
“I’m sure they’re going to love it. And there is a big difference between them hating it and being contractually obligated to take it. Your manager, Simon, will be there to hit them with the sticky bits of the contract. We had dinner last night and went through it with a lawyer friend of his to make sure we’re tight. So, ignore them if they get bent out of shape. But if they’ve got half of a brain between them, they should thank their lucky stars they signed you because it’s a fucking brilliant album.”
Jase leaned towards Cerys’s ear. “Your dad seems more anxious about this than Matt does. And I would have found that hard to believe, given Matt walks around like he has a butt plug stuck up his arse half the time.”
Cerys laughed and slapped his arm. “Stop. He does not walk like that.”
Jase mimicked Matt’s stride. “He’s like a cowboy who’s been in the saddle too long.”
“And you two need to cool it,” Jimmy said as they reached the door to the building. “Cerys, you come sit with me when we get in there. We’re the producer, they are the band. Let’s not blur lines.”
Jase slid his arm around Cerys’s waist and tugged her back against him. “Sit opposite so me and Little Jase can check out your tits if we get anxious.”
The sound of her stifled giggle made him grin. “Given Little Jase’s activities last night and this morning, he should be out for the count, down for a nap at the very minimum.”
Now it was his turn to laugh. “Little Jase gets no time off when you’re around. He can’t help himself.”
But thirty minutes later, the grin had well and truly fled.
Parker Moseley looked stone-faced next to the owner of the label, Dexter Lewis, whose face didn’t reveal anything at all. “The theme of the album is definitely more raw than we anticipated. I didn’t realise we were getting an autobiographical album for a start.” He huffed and looked over to Jimmy. “Even the song that brought them to the attention of listeners has been worked over.” He tossed his pen down onto the large boardroom table they were all seated at.
Moseley pressed pause before the next song could kick in.
“I hear you on the changes, they are what they are, at this point. Let’s just keep listening.” Bexter folded his arms and leaned back in his chair.
Jase watched as Cerys put her hand on her father’s arm. “Mr. Moseley, this is the best album the five musicians in this room could have possibly presented you with. You’re only halfway through the arc of the story. You need to let it play out. To see where it goes.”