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  Irritated, I placed my guitar down and strode to the intercom, kicking yet another piece of clothing out of the way as I did so. I answered.

  “Boy, you took your time.” Alex’s voice took me unawares. I glanced up at the clock again, confirming it was indeed four fifteen and not five p.m., and said, without thinking, “You’re early.”

  There was a pause.

  “I can…go away again if it’s not convenient.”

  Alex was early. I shot a look around me, wishing I’d stopped playing earlier and knuckled down to making my place look at least half decent. What on earth would she think?

  “No, no. It’s good.” I pressed the button on my intercom. “Come on up. Fourth floor. Come out of the lift and turn left. It’s the second door down there.”

  I slotted the phone back into its cradle and looked around again. I grabbed six coffee cups from the table—three in each hand—and shoved them into the kitchen, then scooped up an armful of clothes that were apparently on their way to the laundry room and flung them in, slamming the door to it with my foot afterwards. I pulled a face as I saw the remaining mess in the lounge but figured it was too late to do any more, and that Alex would just have to take me as she found me.

  She looked good when she finally came in. One thing I’d learned about Alex over the few weeks since she’d arrived was that she was one of these people who look fantastic all the time, but you know it’s taken absolutely no effort on their behalf at all. She’d changed since the sound check at Hyde Park and was now dressed down more than she had been, in just skinny jeans and a tight black T-shirt, with her hair swept back off her face. It was a really good look, and I so wanted to tell her that. But I didn’t. Instead, I held the door open to her, apologized for the state of my apartment, and watched her as she sauntered in, guitar strung round her shoulders, hands deep in her jeans pockets.

  “I’m sorry I’m early.” Alex turned and looked at me as I closed my front door. “I was hanging out at home, bored.” She shrugged. “I figured I’d just come on over.” She scooted her guitar off her shoulders and up over her head. “I hope you don’t mind?” she asked, leaning her guitar against her leg.

  “It’s cool,” I said, laughing as I remembered the jumble of clothes hastily flung into the laundry room.

  “What’s funny?” Alex tilted her head to one side and studied me.

  “You caught me a bit unawares.” I gestured vaguely around the room. “I don’t usually live like this.”

  Liar.

  “Just before you arrived, I…uh…tried to tidy up,” I said.

  “Really?” Alex lifted an eyebrow. “I see.” She nodded, but she had a sceptical look on her face.

  “Drink?” I started to walk to the kitchen.

  “Do you have a Coke?” Alex propped her guitar up against my sofa and followed me. “The Tube was boiling hot.”

  “I do.” I went to my fridge and opened it. “Or beer if you prefer?”

  “Ed lets you have beer here?” Alex asked.

  “Ed doesn’t know.” I grinned.

  “Coke’s good,” Alex said, coming into the kitchen with me. “I don’t drink alcohol anyway.”

  “Ed never has to worry about you, does he?” I pulled two cans of Coke out, wishing I didn’t have quite so many bottles of beer lined up next to them. “Not very rock ’n’ roll,” I said, handing Alex her can.

  “Not drinking?” Alex asked. “Whatever. Doesn’t bother me.”

  “I didn’t mean…” I pulled my glance away. “I was being funny. Sorry.”

  “It’s never been my thing.”

  I watched Alex open her can with a hiss, then hastily suck up the fizzing foam that bubbled out of it. She wiped her bottom lip with her thumb.

  “How did you manage in the contestants’ house?” I asked her, signalling for her to follow me back into the lounge. “Group of you all thrown together like that?”

  Alex dropped down into one of the chairs. “They did what they wanted to do,” she said, “and I did what I wanted to do.” She looked at me. “My time on Sing was all about the singing, funnily enough. Well, it was for me, anyway.”

  “The others weren’t so serious?” I asked.

  “Some were,” Alex replied. “Others were just there to live the dream.” She took a drink. “The producers banned alcohol, cigarettes… They all got smuggled in somehow. And drugs sometimes.” She shuddered. “The producers had no idea.”

  An image of Nicole’s face danced at the edges of my consciousness.

  “You weren’t tempted?” I asked.

  “I might be a seventeen-year-old musician, Tally,” Alex said, “but I’m not stupid. What’s the point of fucking up my life just for the occasional high?”

  “Were you gutted you got booted out before the semis?” I wanted to change the subject. Hustle Nicole’s presence out from the room.

  “At the time, yeah.” Alex sipped at her Coke. “I mean, the fact that a thirty-year-old blues singer who couldn’t hit a high note if his life depended on it got through and I didn’t really hurt.”

  I felt for her. Alex had been tipped to win, and rumour was, the bookmakers had stopped taking bets on her during the fifth round, they were so convinced she was going to win. Getting eliminated at the quarter-final stage must have been agony.

  I looked over to her and caught her eye.

  “That’s why this has all been so awesome,” she said. “Joining you guys.” She held my gaze. “I was beginning to think I was down and out. Career over before it had even started.” She laughed, but I could tell her laugh hid her uncertainties. “When you’re in that environment, you start to believe the hype. That you could be the next big thing,” she said, “and then the next day you’re out and you’re already history, sick with worry about where your life is heading because all you’ve ever wanted to do is make music.”

  I studied her face as she spoke, seeing a vulnerability there that I hadn’t seen before. Her mask of confidence that she was so keen to hide behind was showing signs of slipping now that we were alone. Of course, I knew it would be back once we were all back rehearsing together, but for now I was relieved to see another side to Alex. Grateful that she’d shown it to me.

  “You know,” she said, “I was always happy busking. Scratching a living from gigging. Then one day you’re plucked from that and put into the limelight and you’re playing your music to a bigger, more appreciative audience, and suddenly you don’t want to go back to busking any more. You’ve had a taste of what it could be like. What fame’s like. Then it’s taken away from you”—she snapped her fingers—“just like that.”

  “I guess we’ve been lucky.” I didn’t know what else to say.

  “I know you didn’t want me in Be4,” Alex said. She held my gaze. “I know you all thought I wasn’t serious enough for you.”

  “I don’t think—”

  Alex leant forward in her chair, resting her elbows on her legs. “I’m deadly serious about Be4, Tally. I promise you.” She rolled her can in her hands. “I’m grateful for this third chance, and I’ll do anything to prove how dedicated I am.”

  “I’m sure you will,” I said, “but—”

  Alex held up a hand. “And I know you didn’t have any choice but to accept me,” she said, “and that must have hurt, knowing how close you all were to Nicole.”

  “Nicole is a whole different ball game,” I said truthfully. And I hated the other honest words that came from my mouth next. “She’s gone. She’s out of the picture. Nothing to do with Be4 any more.” I looked at Alex. “You’re the future. Our future.”

  “Even though none of you really like me?”

  I sat back in my chair. “What makes you think that?”

  “Just a vibe.” Alex cut her glance away. “Robyn in particular.”

  “Robyn thinks she owns Be4,” I said, “and if something happens that she’s had no hand in, she doesn’t want to know.”

  As Alex stared down at the can in her hands
, I studied her, surprised at her openness and wishing her vulnerability didn’t get to me quite as much as it did. Perhaps she needed to hear some more truths.

  “Anyway,” I said, “Nicole could never play a guitar solo quite like you can.”

  “Nicole never played guitar though, did she?” Alex asked.

  “Exactly. So how could she ever play a solo as well as you?” I dipped my head and caught her eye, making her smile. “And we never managed to get ourselves a festival gig until you came along.”

  Alex’s smile stayed. I was pleased.

  “I’m sorry if you think we don’t like you,” I said. “Perhaps we could have been a little more…welcoming.”

  “Maybe I’m paranoid.” Alex shook her head. “I just want you to know I’m loving every second of being with you guys. I just need you to know that.”

  I looked over to her guitar then back to her.

  “Want to jam then?” I indicated her guitar. “You can teach me that awesome riff you manage to nail every time, if you like.”

  Alex put down her can.

  “Deal,” she said with a smile.

  *

  Alex could play guitar. I mean, she could really play guitar.

  We sat in my lounge, the last orange hues of the evening sun smudging long shadows across the walls, Alex in one chair, me just across from her, and just jammed. It was magical, it was serene, and for the first time since she’d joined the band, I felt fully comfortable in Alex’s company. Strangely, it was as though it was our guitars that finally brought that closeness, almost as if they acted as our common theme. Alex loved her guitar as much as I loved mine, and it really showed in the way she almost caressed it as she played it, the guitar melting into her body, her demeanour relaxed and at one with it.

  We didn’t speak; no words were needed because our guitars spoke for us. And, unlike the stilted lack of conversation that had plagued us before, it didn’t feel awkward or embarrassing. As we played, heads bowed over our strings, I occasionally looked up and caught her eye. That’s when I could see the genuine contentment on her face—a contentment that I finally realized had been missing up until now. Once our eyes met, I dropped my head again and concentrated on my chords, only to raise my eyes and see Alex looking back at me this time.

  Her dexterity with the strings astonished me too. Her guitar became an extension of her as her fingers became a blur during the uptempo parts of our jam, the coloured bracelets that covered her wrists furiously jangling until Alex slowed the tempo again, and her fingers returned to stroke the strings and produce such sweet notes with an ease which I could only ever hope to have. She controlled her guitar with such grace, but the incredible thing was I genuinely didn’t think she knew just how good she really was.

  “Wow.” I stopped playing at a convenient point and sat back. “You’re awesome.”

  “You’re pretty good yourself.” Alex’s grin was one hundred per cent.

  “Weren’t we supposed to be practising the middle of ‘Take Me There’?” My grin matched hers. “We kinda went off-kilter there.”

  “I just followed you.” Alex unlooped her guitar over her shoulders and placed it up against her knees. “You took it to a whole different level.”

  “I just love playing.” I shrugged. “Why do you think all the guitar parts I write are so awesome?” I grinned at her.

  “I’d love to write something some day,” Alex said, running her hand over the neck of her guitar. “Something I can really get my teeth into.”

  “We should totally try writing something together one day,” I said. I meant it too.

  “I’d love that.” Alex’s face was open and expectant.

  “So which do you prefer?” I asked, mirroring her action of unlooping my guitar. “Playing or singing?”

  “Oh, you can’t ask me that!” Alex moved her guitar to one side, then shuffled back on her chair and crossed one long leg over the other. “That’s like asking—I don’t know—do I prefer my mum or my dad?”

  “Your cat or your dog?”

  “Exactly.” Alex grinned.

  “So?” I asked. “Cat or dog?”

  “Dog.” Alex nodded.

  “Okay then…tea or coffee?”

  “Ooh, coffee I suppose.”

  “Skateboarding or snowboarding?”

  “Hmm.” Alex lifted her eyes to the ceiling. “Snowboarding.”

  “Tom or Jerry?” I asked.

  “That’s a tough one.” Alex laughed. “Tom, but only because he’s misunderstood.”

  “Misunderstood?”

  “Totally.”

  “Okay.” I laughed too. “How about doctor or dentist?”

  “Ew. Doctor, but only just.”

  “Donald or Mickey?”

  “Donald.” Alex nodded.

  “Boys or girls?” It was out before I’d even realized it. “Or…” I swallowed, desperately trying to think of something else. “Hotdogs or burgers?” Lame. So lame.

  “Girls.” Alex tipped her head to one side and smiled. “That’s an easy one.” Still studying me, she added, “And you?”

  I felt my face flame. “I can’t…” I cleared my throat, annoyed with my inability to answer her. “I guess I can’t pigeonhole…I mean, I don’t know.” I shrugged, defeated. “Girls, I guess.” My face burned hotter under Alex’s scrutiny.

  “You guess?” Alex’s arched eyebrow didn’t help my awkwardness. “You either know or you don’t.”

  “Well then, I don’t know,” I said, “and you still haven’t answered my question about guitar or singing.”

  “And you’re changing the subject.”

  “I know.”

  Alex leant closer in her chair, resting her arms on her knees, and stared at me. “Guitar,” she finally said, slowly adding, “I guess.”

  “Don’t laugh at me.”

  “I’m not.” She fell back again. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’ve never really been with either a boy or a girl.” My voice sounded thin, probably because of the lie I’d just said. “So how can I know?”

  “Oh, you’d know,” Alex said. “Believe me, you’d know.” She looked at me. “You’ve never kissed a boy?” she asked. “Or a girl?”

  Nicole’s image appeared in my head. Could I tell Alex about her?

  Perhaps not.

  “I kissed Josh Mathers when I was in Year Ten.” I screwed up my nose. “He tasted of…”

  “Boy?” Alex screwed her nose up too.

  “Yeah.”

  We laughed.

  “He couldn’t kiss for shit.” I shook my head. “I thought he was trying to fish something out of my mouth with his tongue.”

  “Okay, that’s revolting.” Alex shuddered. “Truly revolting.” She settled herself further back into her chair. “I kissed Tom something-or-other”—she flitted a hand—“when I was in Year Ten too.” She looked at me. “I only did it as a way of getting over Laura Whitworth, who was two years older than me and who I thought was the best thing since sliced whatnot, and who I used to follow round the school like a lovesick lamb.”

  “Did she know?” I asked.

  “No.” Alex shook her head. “Probably just as well. Every time she saw me she’d look at me like I was something she’d trodden in.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Indeed.” She sighed. “Unrequited love, hey?” She sighed again, deeper this time. “I did a lot of guitar playing back then, I remember,” she said. “Proper angsty shit. Probably wrote some of my best stuff back then too, so at least I have her to thank for that.”

  I looked at the floor, thinking about Nicole’s unrequited love for me. Had I treated her like that? Was I just as bad as Laura Whitworth?

  My thoughts fought a battle. I wanted to tell Alex about Nicole, but at the same time, I didn’t.

  “Has there been anyone since then?” I asked. Pushing the subject back to Alex seemed a better option right then.

  “Of course.” A smile spread across Alex’s face. “L
aura Bloody Whitworth has been a distant memory for years now, thanks to all the others.”

  “All the others?” The thought pinched at me, and I immediately tried to shake it away.

  “Okay, not all the others,” Alex said, “but there have been others.”

  “Lots?” Why was I asking?

  “Not lots.” Alex smiled. “A few.” She looked at me. “And you’re telling me there’s been no one since your disaster with Josh whatshisname?”

  “I…kissed a girl.”

  “And you liked it?” Alex sang back to me.

  I laughed.

  “It was different to the kiss with Josh, that’s for sure.”

  My pulse quickened at the memory. My kiss with Nicole had been so different—softer, more tender. Slower. More meaningful. Not the grubby, stubbly fumbling that Josh had made me endure. Nicole had smelt different too, had tasted different. Nicer. Purer. Better.

  “Kissing girls is so much nicer than kissing boys.” Alex, it seemed, had read my mind. “In my opinion, anyway.” She paused. “So what was her name? And why did you say you’d never had much experience with either before?”

  “I kissed a boy once,” I said, “and I kissed a girl once. Once each. That’s not much, is it?”

  “I guess.” Alex shrugged. “So who was it?”

  “Why are you so interested?” I suddenly felt uncomfortable and, for some reason, annoyed with Alex’s shrug. “It’s in the past. It doesn’t matter any more.”

  “Sorry.” I saw Alex’s face fall. “I didn’t mean to pry.” She reached over and picked up her guitar. “Want to jam some more?”

  Yeah, I did.

  And I would tell Alex about Nicole. One day.

  Just not today.

  Chapter Ten

  Prepping for the festival was such hard work. All of it—the sound checks, the stage set-up, the rehearsals. Exhausting. Another long, hot day in the sun, my mouth dry from the endless singing, sweat trickling down the small of my back. Ed on our cases because he wasn’t entirely happy with this or satisfied with that. Now that really drove me nuts. Okay, I could understand he’d want everything to be perfect—after all, this was our first festival, and our first time singing a set with Alex—but his constant interference made me irritable.