Lust & Lyrics

Chapter 2: He's Gone AWOL

RIGBY'S POV:

"What do you mean, he's not answering his phone?"

They have got to be joshing. This is a f*cking joke.

We've got just a handful of hours before tonight's gig and our bloody lead singer and guitarist is f*cking AWOL.

Nash looks up from his phone.

"But he wasn't at rehearsal earlier, either... He better be f*cking coming."

Then he's looking back at his phone as Nona, our stylist tries to attack his face with makeup. He's batting her away as best he can as he texts whatever girl he plans to f*ck tonight.

"You can do my face if you like, Nona," Ziggy says bashfully, causing me to shake my head with disdain. That lad has it bad. I get it. She's fit. But I don't mix lust and lyrics.

I have this whole philosophy going; it's a f*cking way of life.

My lyrics are for my fans. I don't write songs for girlfriends, not ever and I don't f*ck or date anyone I work with. I don't have a lot of rules, just those two and so far, things are working out pretty well.

Point is, that for me, Nona is off limits.

She's fit but she falls into the category of lyrics... she's work. But Ziggy doesn't have the same rules as me and so right now, he's on a mission to win over the pretty little stylist at all costs. Except he's completely missed the fact that's she's lost in lust over Creed and has been since the day she met him.

"I'm going to murder Creed," I mumble more to myself than anyone else.

"He'll be here," Nona says softly, a hint of protectiveness in her tone.

"Why tonight?" Nash complains. "It's the bloody O2."

He's right. Creed has a habit of choosing his f*cking moments and if he's going to f*ck up, he'll f*ck up royally. I guess that's what happens when you're rock royalty. His parents own our f*cking label. He probably won't even get pulled up on this sh*t.

I try ringing him again but there's still no answer. Giving up, I fling my phone down on the table.

"I'm going to f*cking have him!"

"Do you think he's alright?" Ziggy asks. He's too soft. The baby face of the group.

"He better be f*cking dead, because he will be when I get my hands on him."

Nona tuts disapprovingly but doesn't look my way. The door practically falls off its hinges as Jett bursts into the dressing room.

"Creed is on his way," he says in a lacklustre voice that doesn't match the urgency of his pace.

"Where the hell was he?" I ask.

He ignores me until he's sat in front of the mirror, ready to get his face done.

"He was in a car accident."

Sh*t. Now I feel like a d*ck.

"Is he okay?" Nona is the first to speak, fear dripping from her words.

"I guess so," he doesn't sound convinced, "or we would have cancelled."

Creed and Jett are best buds. They have been for f*ck knows how long. The expression on his face doesn't reassure me one bit.

"Have you seen him?" Nash asks.

"No. They wouldn't let me."

I open my mouth to ask more but close it when our manager walks into the room, calling us to attention.

"Nona, just get these four sorted. Creed will arrive ready and head straight on stage. We've got thirty minutes before you're up. Break a leg, kids."

Then the middle-aged man is walking back out of the room as if the world hasn't fallen off its hinges.

"What the f*ck?" I ask before collapsing into my own chair.

We're a new band. We've only been together for nine months, but I thought we'd all become pretty tight. But right now, one of us has been in a car crash and our manager is saying jack sh*t about it.

Shouldn't we be cancelling? Logic says he can't be that f*cking hurt if he's still going to actually play.

I stick my earphones in and try to switch off my brain for a little while, turning up the music and closing my eyes. It wouldn't be so bad if Creed wasn't the f*cking front man... who am I kidding, if it was Ziggy we'd be without a drummer and if it was Nash, we'd lose the base. Without Jett we'd have no keys and without me... well you'd lose your second guitar and vocals.

Point is we all have a job to do. This sh*t is a mess.

We didn't even have a proper rehearsal and it's the f*cking London O2. Why couldn't he have been late when we played in that bloody dive in Aberdeen.

No, it has to be the O2!

I've got to calm my sh*t. It's not like it's Creed's fault. Accidents happen. What matters is that he's alive and well enough to play. He's on his way and everything is going to be fine. It feels like saying it out loud will jinx it though.

Stretching my arms, I take a yawn. Then Nona is sorting my hair before sending me off to change my clothes. She might be fit but she's damn bossy. She flips her blonde hair and makes her way towards Jett.

There's a bang on the door a few moments later.

"Ten minutes to show time," a squeaky voiced kid says as he darts his head round the door. Then we're all barrelling out of the dressing room as Nona wishes us luck.

I don't get nervous. I was born for this sh*t. I f*cking love it. But tonight, I'm sh*t scared that Creed won't make it here in time. I'm silently berating the label for not cancelling. It's his f*cking parents' label. You'd think they'd cancel.

Walking towards the stage, I can hear the buzz of the crowd. I thrive off that sound. The place is packed. I can tell without peeking through the curtains, it's a full house. Tonight is either going to be bloody brilliant or we're going to fall flat on our arses. I guess it really depends if Creed shows up or not.

"He'll show," Ziggy is saying from somewhere behind me and no one bothers to contradict him so perhaps I'm the only one wondering if he will.

"He has to show," Nash says in a voice that says he's less than impressed.

Our manager, Switch - that's what he has us call him. Daft nickname if you ask me - is patting us on the back and pushing us onto the stage. The lights are down so I can barely see as I make my way towards where my guitar is waiting for me.

I stop the moment I see him, causing Ziggy to walk right into the back of me.

Creed is stood centre stage, checking his guitar is tuned, larger than life. Not a mark on him that I can see. I'm going to f*cking kill that lad.

Oh Darling Violet Lyrics

Oh darling Violet

My love for you runs deep

Your face reminds me

Of pretty words that keep

Roses are red

But Violets are blue

I like drinking tequila

Especially with you

Oh darling Violet

I love your elbows, your pretty elbows

Oh darling Violet

I love your elbows, your pretty elbows

Oh darling Violet

Your loving face lights up. Your sweet soul calls me back

Oh darling Violet

My love for you won't quit

Your face reminds me

Of promises yet to be made

Roses are red

But Violets are blue

I like drinking tequila

Especially with you