CHAPTER 19
CERYS
I apply lipstick with a shaking hand and end up with a pink smear halfway across my face. This is followed by stabbing myself in the eye with a mascara wand.
Yes, I want to see Liam but his idea of a date terrifies me. We had one coffee date the morning he surprised me by returning from LA early, but since then our relationship has continued by text while he works in London. I teased him, saying he was scared of Ella and that’s why he wouldn’t come back, even though behind the teasing, is genuine concern she might be the deal-breaker.
Because Liam knows my babysitting options are limited, he has the bright idea that a big night out would suit me. A big night out which includes Jem, Bryn, and an up and coming band. The band, Ruby Riot, has been adopted by Jem who has taken on a quasi-manager role, arranging gigs up and down the country for them, and tonight they’re in Cardiff. I wanted to suggest a quiet meal would be a good start but he insists. Liam isn’t lacking in powers of persuasion. I guess rock stars don’t often take no for an answer.
Ella was over the moon when I told her she was spending the night at Jordan’s house. After all, his garden is bigger and he has a dog. The ease with which Ella agreed scared me because that was my one ‘get out of going’ excuse gone.
I guess when going to Plan B, a local club with a mostly student population, what to wear isn’t a huge concern. From memory, black is good for students. I settle on dark skinny jeans and a sheer black top that floats just below my hips, and short-heeled boots. I want to look as far removed from Honey as possible. The mistake of the sheer top is apparent when Liam arrives and his look zones straight to my chest, before he catches himself and switches his attention to my face.
“Admiring my necklace again, are you?” I ask him.
“You look beautiful,” he says and leans in to kiss my cheek.
I smile at his compliment. “You’ve been reading that ‘How to Romance’ book again haven’t you?”
Liam frowns at me. “Don’t put yourself down. I’m telling the truth.”
The club is squashed between some boutique shops in the centre of town, Plan B painted in big blue letters on an illuminated sign above the door and the retro look extends to the interior. Tattered posters from the 80s and 90s line the black painted breeze block walls; and circular wooden tables are pushed into corners, surrounded by stools or facing bench seats. The space between the small stage and bar is cleared, leaving little room for tables. This is one of those places where if you’re not early, you’re standing all night. At 7 p.m., we’re early.
Following a trip to the bar, Liam leads us to a quiet corner with a beer and my diet coke. The last couple of times I’ve been out, I drank like I’m still a teen and suffered, so I’m starting with a soft drink. Although, I did sneak a glass of wine before we left, for Dutch courage.
Liam sits back against the leather bench with his arm across the back. I sit on the stool opposite so he shifts around to get closer. Liam’s leg settles against mine and triggers the annoying shortness of breath I get when he touches, the sensation of the muscled thigh arousing me more than a simple touch should.
“Your natural environment?” I ask him.
“Yeah. Sometimes.”
“Aren’t you bothered about Blue Phoenix fans coming here, too?”
He shrugs. “If they do, it’ll be Jem they’re interested in although the press has backed off a bit lately; they’re following some shitty boy band around at the moment. I expect there’ll be other people hanging round ready to take pictures.”
I tense. “And of me?”
He rubs thumb across my cheek. “Only if they see us doing something intimate.”
I shift my leg away. “Are Bryn and Jem bringing girls?”
“No idea.”
The idea of seeing Jem and Bryn again is strange. My recollections of the guys are stronger from when I was fifteen than the drunken night out a few years ago. How will they react to me and Liam together?
I’m interrupted by a girl arriving in the bar. ‘Arriving’ is a mild way of putting the entrance of the tall, skinny girl. She crashes through a side door and stomps in motorcycle boots across the room. Dressed in a short black dress barely covering any of her long legs, her hair shines scarlet red as it catches the light of the bar. The girl leans across and shouts at the barman. He hands her four beer bottles, which she picks up, two in each hand. As she turns around, the girl spots me and Liam in the corner.
“Are you Liam?” she asks.
“Why?”
“I’m only asking! Wow…” She stomps off.
Liam turns his surprised look to mine. “Did I say something wrong?”
“She must have missed the memo about your beautiful nature,” I reply.
Liam huffs and digs me in the ribs with his elbow. “Don’t start…”
I fight against the desire to shift closer to him, knowing he’ll put his arm around me. I’m behaving like a silly teen again, and I doubt that’s what Liam’s used to. Or maybe he is.
Shortly after the girl’s abrupt entrance and exit, the sound of people setting up the band equipment on the nearby stage crashes over the low music playing. Other new arrivals trickle into the bar area. They’re dressed down as if they threw on any clothes they found on their bedroom floor, but everyone appears more alike than the individual look they want. Nobody pays attention to us, Liam blends into the scene around him. When he pulls out his phone and sends a text, I use the moment surreptitiously to check my phone for texts from Phoebe.
<Stop checking your phone> is displayed on my screen.
Typical Phoebe.
“They’re running late,” says Liam, interrupting my considered response to Phoebe.
When an awkward silence joins us at the table, I decide alcohol is a good idea after all. Even though I’m comfortable around the St Davids Liam, he’s still Liam Oliver from Blue Phoenix and I’m a fish out of water in this venue. Liam returns to the bar and while he’s there a girl with long black hair and a too tight, short skirt approaches and chats to him. Behind my bristling jealousy is curiosity at how Liam handles his fame. I know he’s not at the forefront as Dylan and Jem are, but there’ll be others like me who prefer the quieter bass player to the egotistical pair.
When Liam returns with my vodka and tonic, he’s laughing to himself.
“What’s wrong?” I ask as he sets my drink on the table.
“That girl wanted to know if the rest of the band would be here tonight.”
“Isn’t Liam Oliver enough for her?”
“I told her Jem would be here and that seemed to brighten her evening.”
I giggle as he sits. “Oh well, you’ll have to make do with me then if the groupies are rejecting you.”
Liam catches me unaware by taking my chin in his hand and tugging my face toward his. “Make do?” He brushes his lips against mine. “I want everyone to know I’m with you.”
Liam’s hand remains under my chin, lips hovering close to mine. The slight taste of his kiss and the rough scrape from his skin takes over and flares my body to life. I can’t start kissing Liam, not here. He pushes my hair from my face, fingers grazing heat before he hesitantly places his mouth on mine again. I duck my head.
“Hey, Cherry Pie!” calls a voice.
I groan inwardly. There’s only one person who ever calls me that. I fail to see how Bryn can turn Cerys, which is pronounced Ker-iss, into ‘cherry’ or ‘pie’ but he somehow managed. One night around eight years ago, when he and the others were high in Liam’s room, he formulated the name and it stuck. Should I be flattered that he remembers?
Bryn stands at the edge of the table, arms open in greeting. “Long time, no see. I hear you’ve got a kid now!”
I hesitate before standing; Bryn is no longer an old friend but a famous guy I used to know. He’s also a lot broader and several inches taller than Liam, and if I didn’t know him, he’d intimidate me. Bryn squashes me to his chest in a bone-crushing hug, brown curls tickling my face. I extricate myself from his enthusiasm and he stands back, sweeping a gaze over me.
“You’re all grown up!” He raises a suggestive eyebrow at Liam before dragging a stool out and sitting.
I sit too and Liam places his hand over mine, under the table, and squeezes. “Is Jem here?” asks Liam.
“You bet; this is his little project. I think he’s with the band trying to keep his hands off the lead singer.”
Liam snorts. “Of course. Are you staying with him still?”
“Yeah, chief babysitter.”
“Don’t let him hear you say that,” Liam replies.
“He asked me to stay with him; he knows that’s what I think about the situation. At least he’s clean since he left rehab.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, I worry about him being in this scene around others drinking and drugging, but he seems okay.”
“Is Dylan coming?” Liam asks.
“Nah. I think him and Sky are in Asia currently. Or Australia, I’m not sure. I can’t keep track, and Dylan’s pretty cagey about people knowing their plans.”
“What you mean is he doesn’t want Steve to know.”
“Come on, you know Steve’s backed off on the micromanaging while we have time out.”
“Hmm. For now.”
As they switch to chatting about Liam’s work with a band I haven’t heard of, and discussing the merits of fellow musicians, I switch off and attempt to convince myself this is really happening. Am I honestly sitting in a club with Liam, away from motherhood and mundanity? Liam’s hand remains protectively around mine. Yes, I’m in the middle of a dream I once had. Liam Oliver wants me.
Another group walks into the empty pub, attempting not to stare at us; but when one of the guys orders at the bar, the two girls he’s with fight against gawking at us. I switch my focus to the glass in front of me.
“We’ll have to go out the back soon,” says Bryn, “Too many people here now. Once the band starts we can come back through, but I don’t feel like being hassled right now.”
“Sure. Cerys?” Liam stands and picks up our drinks.
Under several sets of eyes, we follow Bryn behind the bar to the back of the pub.
Toward the back of the building, Ruby Riot hangs out in a room preparing to go on stage and I have the dubious pleasure of joining them. Two guys sit on the sofa comparing something on their phones and a third guy rests against the wall drinking beer. The guys on the sofa are around my age but that’s where the comparison stops. They have matching spikey black hair and piercings and I’d lay bets that they’re brothers; the similarity is so strong between them. Everybody I come across tonight has tattoos; these guys each have a sleeve extending toward their neck, a bright mash of colours and pictures.
The solidly built man on his own is older, closer in age to Liam. I like muscles on a guy but this is someone who spends a lot of time working out to achieve the bulk he does. Nobody could have that much natural muscle. His close-cropped hair and attitude gives him an odd demeanour, an air of something beyond tension around him that frightens me.
“Hey, guys,” says Bryn then frowns. “Where’re the rest of you?”
“Just what I was thinking,” mutters the man who’s against the wall. “I thought you were looking for them.” Something about the way he looks at me prickles my neck and I grip Liam’s hand. I felt out of place the moment I walked into the room and this isn’t helping.
“Nah, Jem’s with Ruby and Jax, I think they all went out for a smoke,” says one of the men on the sofa. “You brought a chick tonight, huh, Liam?”
“Cerys,” I say and pull a sour face at his description.
“Hey, Cerys. I’m Will and this is my baby brother, Nate. Bass player and drummer with the famous Ruby Riot!” He grins.
“Famous? Dream on,” says the third man.
“Don’t kill the dreams, Dan!” Nate says and the look that passes between them suggests an animosity beneath the surface. “This is Dan, our delectable lead singer, Ruby’s, groupie.”
“Ha f-ucking ha.” He looks at me. “She’s my other half.”
“And because you’re here all the time, that makes you our official groupie,” grins Will.
“Sure, dickhead, you’re funny…” He looks to Bryn. “Was she in the bar?”
“Nope.”
Nate checks his phone. “We’re on in fifteen, she always does this. I bet Jem’s talking her down again. “
Talking her down? The amount I’ve drunk since I arrived makes itself known. “I should um… go to the bathroom before the band starts,” I say to Liam.
“You okay?” he asks quietly.
“Fine,” I lie.
The bathrooms are located halfway between the room and the bar area and there’s no queue, which leaves me ten minutes. I’m not keen on going back into the room and standing awkwardly waiting for the gig to start. The bar isn’t an option, so I head toward the propped open fire door for some fresh air. I’m about to step out when I notice two figures huddled in the shadows talking in insistent voices. The door leads to a narrow alley that runs between the pub and the main street, and the couple are on the edge of the light filtering through from the building.
God, I hope this isn’t going to turn into a physical argument because the girl’s hand gestures get wilder. The man doesn’t retaliate instead standing with his arms crossed against his chest. I can’t hear what they’re saying. Do I go? Wait in case she needs help?
The tall girl moves, and the light catches her bright red hair; the man grabs her arm.
The light casts across his face. I last saw him in person the night Liam kissed me almost six years ago, but the wiry figure with long brown curls touching his shoulders is unmistakably Jem.
“Sort this shit out,” he says to the girl.
“I’m f-ucking trying,” she hisses at him.
They’re closer and I’m now privy to a conversation I probably shouldn’t be. “You can’t live like this, Ruby.”
“Sure, oh, wise one, I’ll follow your example, should I?”
“Don’t hide behind that bullshit.”
“Then don’t start now, I’m on stage soon and you’re messing with my f-ucking head.” She attempts to move but Jem’s grip on her remains. “Let me go.”
“The other night…” he starts.
“This is none of your f-ucking business. Stick to worrying about the band.” Her harsh tone breaks. “Jem, you have to back off.”
“There’s so much I want to say to you,” he says and reaches out to touch her cheek. Ruby flinches and Jem grabs her face turning it to him. “Is the bastard hitting you again?”
“Get the f-uck off me!” She struggles against Jem as he wipes at her cheek.
“Everyone sees; you can’t hide it. You said he’s stopped! You f-ucking lied!”
“Because I know you won’t keep out of it and things’ll get worse. Jem, please, leave me alone!” Ruby slumps against the wall and pulls a packet of cigarettes from her pocket with shaking hands.
I can’t move, as if I’m watching a car crash and my body won’t pull me away.
Jem grabs Ruby’s wrist and pulls her to him, rests his head against hers and says something I can’t hear. Ruby’s shoulders drop and she moves her head to look at him. Time to leave before I see something I shouldn’t.
I head back to the Green Room and slip through the door. Another guy has joined the group and he immediately greets me with a hand to shake.
“I’m Jax,” he says. In a huge contrast to Dan, still skulking against the wall, he has a calm, friendly aura, the kind of person you can’t help but smile along with. He has a pierced eyebrow, and a blonde fringe sweeping halfway into sapphire blue eyes. “Lead guitar.”
“Been looking for you,” says Jem, barging into the door behind almost knocking into me. “Where were you?”
“Busy,” he grins.
“It’s a lead guitarist thing,” Bryn whispers loudly to me. “They can’t keep it in their pants.”
“You’re not as funny as you think, Bryn,” says Jem, and then catches sight of me. “Hey, Cerys, forgot you were coming.”
I’m shocked by Jem’s appearance now I see him in the light. Bryn and Liam have a rugged look but Jem’s is one step further. I’m not sure if it’s what’s hidden behind his intense brown eyes, or the gaunter face; but he looks older than his twenty-five years. The edgy attractiveness is there, the angled cheekbones and sensual mouth impossible to ignore, but his years of abuse are clear.
“Hello, Jem.”
Jem doesn’t reply; too preoccupied with organising the band as he turns to Jax, and says something to do with the evening ahead that I have no understanding about.
I sit on the sofa with Liam and attempt to quell the discomfort that entered our evening. I want to get out before Ruby appears, too. Liam touches my knee. “You okay?”
The claustrophobia in the small room grows when Ruby slams open the door and fills it with her attitude. Without looking at anyone, Ruby marches straight to the guitars in the corner.
“Where’ve you been, angel?” asks Dan.
Ruby drags her short fingernails through her hair and hooks the strap of the red guitar around her skinny chest before pointing to her face. “Re-decorating.”
A muscle in Dan’s cheek twitches and he glances at Jem, who’s continuing his intense conversation with Jax. “We’re going straight home tonight,” Dan says to Ruby.
“Yeah, whatever.” She notices me. “Hey.”
No smile, no further small talk.
“Why the f-uck is everyone still sitting here?” she asks. “Tweedledum and Tweedledee, get your asses into gear” She throws an empty water bottle at the brothers, and they stand like kids being admonished by their mum.
Jax snorts at Ruby. “Such a polite girl, our Ruby,” he says and she gives him the middle-finger.
“Is your pre-show f-uck done with?” she shoots back at Jax.
He clutches his chest. “You always think the worst of me, Miss Tuesday.”
“Don’t f-ucking call me that.” She grabs another bottle of water. “Come on!”
Ruby whirls out of the room in much the same way as she did the bar earlier, continuing to swear under her breath. If I thought her boyfriend was edgy, he’s as cool as they come, compared to her. It’s a long time since I’ve hung around with people who use variants of the word ‘f-uck’ as an adjective at every opportunity. I glance at Liam who looks as stunned as me. Bryn winks at me and Jem behaves as if she were never in the room. Dan finally peels himself from his attachment to the wall and follows her. I watch Jem and the anger in his eyes is unmistakable.
I resolve never to speak to Dan. I’ve had friends trapped in cycles of violence in relationships and have seen the aftermath. Despite Ruby’s foul mouth and the dismissive attitude she has to me, I hurt for her. I’ve known girls like her. They’re surrounded by barbed wire to protect themselves from the world. The problem is this fences in everything that’s hurt them, trapping the pain. If Ruby’s involved with Jem Jones, he’ll get more than barbed wire scratches and it won’t be pretty.
****
Half an hour into the band’s set and my old love of live music is reignited. The girl on stage holds a presence that expands across the room and grabs the crowd by the throat. Ruby, the girl whose weakness I just witnessed, now holds her own on stage. I’m used to sanitised and remixed singers from TV; and I love and remember this intense sound from my teen years. The delicate balance between volume and skill fills the room and my mind, and Liam’s decision to come here is forgiven. No way would I like to be at a quiet restaurant and miss this.
Liam stands behind me with arms wrapped around my waist, and I’m encompassed by the warmth of his affection. There’re no wandering hands, just the occasional scrape of Liam’s rough cheek against my neck as he kisses me. For the first time in years, I’m the Cerys who is special to someone.
Following the discomfort of my visit to the backstage, if it weren’t for the way the band captured me in the first song, I’d have asked Liam if we could leave.
Once Ruby Riot finish playing, people drift away to other more interesting venues, the pub descending into relative quiet. I return to the corner that I shared with Liam; and to my surprise, the others come over too.
Will pushes a hand through his short black hair and flicks his tongue piercing over his teeth. “What did you think, Liam? Reckon we could give the next Blue Phoenix tour a go?”
Liam relaxes next to me, arm across my shoulders. “Not my call.”
“But we’re good, yeah?”
“Not bad.”
“We are good, I know. Not your kind of music, huh?” Will asks me.
“What makes you ask that?”
“Umm. Dunno. You don’t look like you’d like us.”
“Why? What do I look like?”
My earlier feeling of rewinding to my pre-Ella days, of losing myself and fitting in, screeches to a halt. Heat spreads across my back as the realisation I don’t fit in hits. I dressed down, yes, but my dressed down still makes me look like I should be with different people. Other mothers. Who am I kidding?
“It’s fine, forget it,” says Will, shifting in his seat.
“You mean I don’t have enough tattoos and piercings to be cool enough to watch your band?” I snap.
“Naw, you just don’t look like a normal fan. Look, I didn’t mean anything. You’re cool, okay?”
Sure, but if my hair was a different colour and I was wearing the correct clothes, I’d be ‘cooler’. Despite the fact I’m in a darkened corner, I feel as if there’s a spotlight on me.
“I need the bathroom,” I say to Liam and stand. My small black handbag rests on the seat next to Liam and I stare at it. Nobody else here has a handbag.
Stumbling toward the bathrooms, I keep my eyes to the floor. I’m not much different in age to these people, younger than the Blue Phoenix guys, but I may as well be ten years older. The black walls drip with condensation in the hallway, and couples hang round chatting. Thankfully, there’s no queue to get into the Ladies and I push myself through the door.
Gripping the dirty sink in the brightly lit bathrooms, I stare at my reflection. My carefully applied make-up enhances my big brown eyes, my lipstick a natural colour. Next to me, a girl with thick black hair reapplies heavy black eyeliner on her powdered pale face, and touches up her perfect red lipstick. This girl wears a disguise, part of the scene.
I’m Cerys, mum on a night out.
I worried that my lack of similarity to Honey would be the issue if I dated Liam, but this is the bigger one. My life doesn’t fit his. I doubt anyone else here has a five year old staying at a friend’s so she can have her first night out in six months.
With the decision to tell Liam I want to go home made, I head out of the bathrooms.
Liam’s waiting outside for me, resting against the opposite wall, and I pause in surprise.
“You okay?” he asks.
“I’m okay. Getting tired, can we go?”
He approaches and smoothes my hair, concerned eyes searching mine. “You’re not okay, I can tell.”
“I’m feeling out of place, that’s all.”
Liam sighs. “Did I do the wrong thing bringing you here? I thought you’d enjoy this. I remember you and Lou used to sneak in to see us play. You were mini-rock chicks.”
I smile weakly. “We can’t rewind life.”
“Why not? I have. I rewound to you.” He touches my lips. “You make it sound like you can’t have fun anymore. I think you need to let go and enjoy the world.”
Back in Liam’s presence, I’m less self-aware. Out of the two of us, if anyone’s going to get noticed, it won’t be me. “A night out with a badass rock star could be counted as fun.”
“Hmm. But you got stuck with a sweet one.”
I circle Liam’s taut waist and pull him close. He’s right. Who cares if I don’t fit? I fit him, the man cupping the back of my head and pulling my mouth to his.
“Don’t be sweet then,” I say quietly.
Liam sucks in a breath then knocks mine out by slamming me against the wall, hungry mouth closing over mine. In that one move, he wipes away thoughts of anything but the daily obsession over what sex with this man would be like. I slide my hands beneath his T-shirt, exploring the tight abs and digging my nails into the muscles of his lower back. Liam growls and pushes against me, his obvious arousal spiking my own as we continue to explore each other’s mouths. I can’t move and barely breathe, lost in the heady kiss.
Liam pushes his hand beneath the thin material of my top and trails his finger lightly along my side. My legs weaken and if he didn’t have me pinned against the wall by his hips, I’d be a heap on the floor. When Liam’s large palm closes over my breast and his fingers slide into the thin lace of my bra and brushes my hardened nipple, I know sweet isn’t anything to do with Liam tonight.
He stops as quickly as he started and rests his head on mine. “Cerys, I want you on your own. No Ella, no Blue Phoenix, and no dickheads making you feel like you’re beneath them.”
I lick the taste of Liam from my lips wanting more, and determined more is what I’m going to get.
Tonight is all about Liam, freedom, and me.
“Let’s go home,” I whisper and nip his bottom lip.