‘I MAY NEVER
SEE MY KID’
– POP STAR DAD
by Jasper Murray
Walli was afraid the publicity might cause trouble for Karolin in East Germany. Dave recalled Jasper’s interview with Evie, and made a mental note never to trust a word Jasper said.
He wondered how much Beep might have changed in four years. She might be taller, or she might have grown fat. Would he still find her overwhelmingly desirable? Would she be more interested in him now that he was older?
She might have a boyfriend, of course. She might go out with that guy tonight instead of coming to the gig.
Before the show, Plum Nellie had a couple of hours to look around. They quickly realized that San Francisco was the coolest city of them all. It was full of young people in radically stylish clothes. Miniskirts were out. The girls wore dresses that trailed the floor, flowers in their hair, and tiny bells that tinkled as they moved. The men’s hair was longer here than anywhere else, even London. Some of the young black men and women had grown it into a huge fuzzy cloud that looked amazing.
Walli in particular loved the town. He said he felt as if he could do anything here. It was at the opposite end of the universe from East Berlin.
There were twelve acts in the Beat Revue. Most of them played two or three songs then went off. The top of the bill act had twenty minutes at the end. Plum Nellie were big enough stars to close the first half with fifteen minutes, during which they played five short songs. No amplifiers were carried on tour: they played through whatever was available at the venue, often primitive speakers designed for sports announcements. The audience, almost all teenage girls, screamed loudly all the way through, so that the group could not hear themselves. It hardly mattered: no one was listening.
The thrill of working in the US was wearing off. The group were getting bored, and looking forward to going back to London where they were due to record a new album.
After the performance they returned backstage. The venue was a theatre, so their dressing room was large enough, and the toilet was clean – quite different from the beat clubs in London and Hamburg. The only refreshment available was the free Dr Pepper from the sponsor, but the doorman was usually willing to send out for beer.
Dave told the group that friends of his parents might come backstage, so they had to behave. They all groaned: that meant no drugs and no fumbling with groupies until the old people had gone.
During the second half, Dave saw the doorman at the artists’ entrance and made sure he had the names of the guests: Mr Woody Dewar, Mrs Bella Dewar, Mr Cameron Dewar and Miss Ursula ‘Beep’ Dewar.
Fifteen minutes after the end of the show, they appeared in the doorway of his dressing room.
Beep had hardly changed at all, Dave saw with delight. She was still petite, no taller than she had been at thirteen, although she was curvier. Her jeans were tight around her hips but flared below the knee, the latest fashion, and she wore a closely fitting sweater with broad blue and white stripes.
Had she dressed up for Dave? Not necessarily. What teenage girl would not dress up to go backstage at a pop concert?
He shook hands with all four visitors and introduced them to the rest of the group. He was afraid the other guys might disgrace him, but in fact they were on their best behaviour. They all invited family guests occasionally, and each appreciated the others being restrained in the presence of older relatives and friends of their parents.
Dave had to force himself to stop staring at Beep. She still had that look in her eye. Mandy Love had it, too. People called it sex appeal or je ne sais quoi or just ‘It’. Beep had an impish grin, a sway in her walk, and an air of lively curiosity. Dave was as consumed with desperate desire as he had been when he was a thirteen-year-old virgin.
He tried to talk to Cameron, who was two years older than Beep and already studying at the University of California at Berkeley, just outside San Francisco. But Cam was difficult. He was in favour of the Vietnam War, he thought civil rights should progress more gradually, and he felt it was right that homosexual acts should be crimes. He also preferred jazz.
Dave gave the Dewars fifteen minutes, then said: ‘This is the last night of our tour. There’s a farewell get-together at the hotel starting in a few minutes. Beep and Cam, would you like to come?’
‘Not me,’ said Cameron immediately. ‘Thanks all the same.’
‘Shame,’ said Dave with polite insincerity. ‘What about you, Beep?’
‘I’d love to come,’ said Beep, and looked at her mother.
‘In by midnight,’ said Bella.
Woody said: ‘Use our taxi service to get home, please.’
‘I’ll make sure of it,’ Dave reassured them.
The parents and Cameron left, and the musicians got on the bus with their guests for the short ride to the hotel.
The party was in the hotel bar, but in the lobby Dave murmured in Beep’s ear: ‘Have you ever tried smoking marijuana?’
‘You mean pot?’ she said. ‘You bet!’
‘Not so loud – it’s against the law!’
‘Have you got some?’
‘Yes. We should probably smoke it in my room. Then we can join the party.’
‘Okay.’
They went to his room. Dave rolled a joint while Beep found a rock station on the radio. They sat on the bed, passing the roach back and forth. Mellowing out, Dave smiled and said: ‘When you came to London . . .’
‘What?’
‘You weren’t interested in me.’
‘I liked you, but you were too young.’
‘You were too young, for the things I wanted to do to you.’
She grinned mischievously. ‘What did you want to do to me?’
‘There was a long list.’
‘What came first?’
‘First?’ Dave was not going to tell her. Then he thought: Why not? So he said: ‘I wanted to see your tits.’
She handed him the joint, then pulled the striped sweater over her head with a swift movement. She had nothing on underneath it.
Dave was astounded and overjoyed. He got a hard-on just looking. ‘They’re so beautiful,’ he said.
‘Yes, they are,’ she said dreamily. ‘So pretty I sometimes have to touch them myself.’
‘Oh, my God,’ Dave groaned.
‘On your list,’ Beep said, ‘what was second?’
*
Dave changed his flight to a week later and stayed on at the hotel. He saw Beep after school every weekday and all day Saturday and Sunday. They went to movies, they shopped for cool clothes, and they walked around the Zoo. They made love two or three times a day, always using condoms.
One evening, while he was undressing, she said: ‘Take off your jeans.’
He looked at her, lying on the hotel bed wearing just her panties and a denim cap. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Tonight you’re my slave. Do as you’re told. Take off your jeans.’
He was already taking them off, and he was about to say so when he realized that this was a fantasy. The thought amused him, and he decided to play along. He pretended to be reluctant, and said: ‘Aw, do I have to?’
‘You have to do everything I say, because you belong to me,’ she said. ‘Take off your goddamn jeans.’
‘Yes, mam,’ Dave said.
She sat upright, watching him. He saw the mischievous lust in her faint smile. ‘Very good,’ she said.
Dave said: ‘What should I do next?’
Dave knew why he had fallen so hard for Beep, both when he was thirteen and again a few days ago. She was full of fun, ready to try anything, hungry for new experiences. With some girls, Dave had been bored after two fucks. He felt he could never get bored with Beep.
They made love, Dave pretending reluctance while Beep ordered him to do things he was already longing for. It was weirdly exciting.
Afterwards he said idly: ‘Where did you get your nickname, anyway?’
‘Have I never told you?’
‘No. There’s so much I don’t know about you. Yet I feel as if we’ve been close for years.’
‘When I was little I had a toy car, the kind you sit in and pedal. I don’t even remember it, but apparently I loved it. I spent hours driving it, and I used to say: “Beep! Beep!”’
They got dressed and went for hamburgers. Dave saw her bite into hers, watched the juice run down her chin, and realized that he was in love.
‘I don’t want to go back to London,’ he said.
She swallowed and said: ‘Then stay.’
‘I can’t. Plum Nellie has to make a new album. Then we go on tour in Australia and New Zealand.’
‘I adore you,’ she said. ‘When you go, I’ll cry. But I’m not going to spoil today by being miserable about tomorrow. Eat your hamburger. You need the protein.’
‘I feel we’re soulmates. I know I’m young, but I’ve had a lot of different girls.’
‘No need to brag. I’ve done pretty well, too.’
‘I didn’t mean to brag. I’m not even proud of it – it’s too easy when you’re a pop singer. I’m trying to explain, to myself as well as to you, why I feel so sure.’
She dipped a French fry into ketchup. ‘Sure of what?’
‘That I want this to be permanent.’
She froze with the French fry halfway to her mouth, then put it back on the plate. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I want us to be together always. I want us to live together.’
‘Live together . . . how?’
‘Beep,’ he said.
‘Still here.’
He reached across the table and took her hand. ‘Would you think about maybe getting married?’
‘Oh, my God,’ she said.
‘I know it’s crazy, I know.’
‘It’s not crazy,’ she said. ‘But it’s sudden.’
‘Does that mean you want to? Get married?’
‘You’re right. We’re soulmates. I’ve never had half this much fun with a boyfriend.’
She was still not answering the question. He said slowly and distinctly: ‘I love you. Will you marry me?’
She hesitated for a long moment, then she said: ‘Hell, yes.’
*
‘Don’t even ask me,’ said Woody Dewar angrily. ‘You two are not getting married.’
He was a tall man, dressed in a tweed jacket with a button-down shirt and a tie. Dave had to work hard not to be intimidated.
Beep said: ‘How did you know?’
‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘My creep of a brother told you,’ Beep said. ‘What a dick I was to confide in him.’
‘There’s no need for bad language.’
They were in the drawing room of the Dewars’ Victorian mansion on Gough Street in the Nob Hill district. The handsome old furniture and expensive but faded curtains reminded Dave of the house in Great Peter Street. Dave and Beep sat together on the red velvet couch, Bella was in an antique leather chair, and Woody stood in front of the carved stone fireplace.
Dave said: ‘I know it’s sudden, but I have obligations: recording in London, a tour of Australia, and more.’
‘Sudden?’ said Woody. ‘It’s totally irresponsible! The mere fact that you can make the suggestion at all, after a week of dating, proves that you’re nowhere near mature enough for marriage.’
Dave said: ‘I hate to boast, but you force me to say that I’ve been living independently from my parents for two years; in that time I’ve built up a multi-million-dollar international business, and although I’m not as rich as people imagine, I am able to keep your daughter in comfort.’
‘Beep is seventeen! And so are you. She can’t marry without my permission, and I’m not giving it. And I’m betting Lloyd and Daisy will take the same attitude to you, young Dave.’
Beep said: ‘In some states you can get married at eighteen.’
‘You’re not going anywhere like that.’