Ex in the City, page 11
My breath catches in my throat. It has been years since I was inside a recording studio. I want to say yes, of course I do, but family life has other plans for me.
‘Ah, I’d love to, but I’ve got the kids today,’ I tell him, unable to hide my disappointment. ‘I wasn’t supposed to be having them but Rowan pretty much just walked in, announced he was going out and then left, so…’
‘So, the kids can come with us,’ Dylan says with a shrug.
I’m taken aback by his offer but terrified he might take it back, so I bite his hand off.
‘Can they really?’ I reply. ‘Because I would love, love, love to come.’
‘Of course,’ he says.
‘But, this is going to sound silly, but you know that kids are kids, right?’ I point out. ‘They can’t hold your beer or roll your joints or…’
My mind jumps back to the old days and the sights I saw that freaked even me out.
‘Nic, I know that kids are kids,’ he says with a laugh. ‘Never met one that could roll a decent joint.’
I laugh at his joke. Okay, I’m being ridiculous. I guess I do have a bit of mum energy lurking inside me somewhere.
‘Hey, dude, little dude,’ Dylan calls out to them. ‘How do you guys fancy visiting a real recording studio?’
‘Yeah, cool,’ Archie calls out.
‘Yeah, cool,’ Ned says, copying his brother.
‘Cool,’ Dylan says, then he turns to me. ‘Problem solved. But you guys need to get ready, like, now.’
‘Getting ready really quickly is still my number one skill,’ I tell him excitedly. ‘Come on, boys, we need to get dressed, double time.’
‘I’ll make the toast while you’re getting them ready,’ Dylan calls after me. ‘I think I know what you mean.’
I practically charge upstairs, grabbing outfits for the boys, before flinging open my own wardrobe and looking for something to wear. There are the bones of my old look in here, I’ve just always watered them down, but black skinny jeans, a red vest top, a black leather jacket and big chunky pair of black boots together will make me feel right at home.
It’s been so long since I was in a recording studio. Back in the day I would spend hours in them, like it was nothing, but suddenly the novelty is back. I’m excited to go, to reunite with the rest of the band, and to get to hear Dylan do his thing again.
It’s going to be just like old times just, you know, with kids around. What’s the worst that could happen?
18
I can’t believe I’m back in a recording studio again, after all this time, and not only do I find it even harder to believe still that I’m here with Dylan and The Burnouts, but the fact that I’ve got Rowan’s kids in tow just makes this all the crazier. I never would have anticipated this in a million years.
The studio is nothing short of high-tech luxury. The walls are padded to block out the outside world – which I kind of like, because I feel like I’m living another life right now – and the mood is just full of creativity and excitement. It’s just like it used to be, in a way, but somehow so much better because the vibe is so chilled. Everyone is so happy. Mitch, the band’s manager, is here, and so is Dev, the musical genius sitting behind the impressive mixing desk, who will be helping them rerecord their old tracks.
I love that the vibe is distinctly different from the old days. The entire band seems more grown-up, more sophisticated, and yet they all still give off that cool rock-star aura. Jamie, the bass player, is perched on a stool, trying to teach Ned how to play the James Bond theme on a bass guitar. Taz, the drummer, and Dylan are on the drum kit, teaching Archie the drumming basics. The sight of Archie, looking so tiny behind the enormous kit, is both adorable and hilarious.
‘Hey, Dev, can you record Archie making a few sounds with the kit?’ Dylan asks. ‘We could use it in the recordings.’
Archie’s eyes widen with excitement as he nods eagerly.
‘Can we get him a cowbell?’ Taz asks.
‘Yes, a cowbell would be perfect,’ Dylan replies – he seems almost as excited as Archie does.
‘Long time, no see,’ Mikey says, sitting down next to me, the two of us finally getting a moment alone.
Mikey is tall, with an athletic figure that he didn’t have back in the day. His once dishevelled rocker’s hair is now neatly trimmed and styled. A fashionable, well-fitted shirt complements his new mature and polished appearance and highlights his lean physique – Mikey’s glow-up came around the time he made the switch from playing guitar to working as a TV presenter. He’s a far cry from the shy musician he once was. We stayed in touch for a while, after he and Dylan fell out. I would see him from time to time, but nothing quite felt the same. Even the fun times felt sort of sad, without Dylan there too, it was like he had died and no one wanted to talk about it. So eventually Mikey and I drifted apart as well. He moved on to life as a TV star – finally out of his brother’s shadow, as he probably saw it – and I moved on to, well, this.
‘Hey, stranger,’ I reply.
‘Did you ever think you would see the day?’ he asks, a big grin plastered across his face.
I laugh.
‘Not in a million years,’ I reply. ‘I can’t believe we’re all here – and all friends.’
I dare to mention their infamous falling out.
Mikey nods knowingly.
‘So, Nicole Wilde, family woman,’ he points out. ‘I never thought I’d see the day you grew up. They’re great kids.’
‘They really are,’ I reply. ‘Although I’m not sure how grown-up I am, I did bring them to a recording studio. Their dad had to work. What about you? How have you been?’
Mikey’s eyes come alive as he looks through his phone before he leans in and shows me photos of his wife and kids.
‘I’ve got a family now too,’ he tells me. ‘I’m married – that’s Nicola – and we have two kids, both girls. They’re amazing, you’d love them.’
‘Aww, they’re so cute,’ I tell him sincerely, smiling at the thought of Mikey enjoying family life. ‘I’m so happy for you.’
‘Thanks,’ he replies. ‘Jamie just got married recently and Taz, he’s married, got one kid, another on the way – proper grown-ups.’
I laugh.
‘It sounds like a lot has changed,’ I reply.
Mikey’s expression grows more serious, and he takes a moment to consider his words before he says anything else.
‘Really, you know, it’s just Dill who hasn’t… really grown up,’ he says, almost as though he’s struggling to get the words out.
I nod thoughtfully. It’s not just Dylan, I haven’t exactly nailed adulthood myself, but I suppose I can see what he’s getting at.
‘The old days were a blast, don’t get me wrong,’ he continues while it’s just the two of us. ‘But we’ve all moved on. Sometimes I worry about him. He’s struggled a lot, and I don’t know if he’s fully put those old habits behind him. I’m not sure anyone ever does.’
I take a sip of my tea – I never thought I’d be drinking tea in a recording studio, but here we are – and nod thoughtfully.
‘Well, that’s why I’m here,’ I reassure him. ‘I’ll do my best to keep him on the straight and narrow.’
Mikey sighs.
‘We’ve tried before, you know,’ he reminds me. ‘But when Dylan’s in full swing, he’s hard to stop.’
When Mikey says we’ve tried before, he’s referring to a time, just before the big falling out, when we did everything we could think of to straighten Dylan out. And I failed him then, but that’s all the more reason not to fail him now. He’s starting from a better place, with an amazing opportunity ahead of him, so I’m hopeful this time.
I glance through the glass at him, watching him teach Archie the art of playing the cowbell, and it feels so hard to imagine the old him making a comeback. I know, he’s on his best behaviour, but he’s really trying, I feel like he genuinely wants to keep on the straight and narrow this time. It’s only been a few days, but I can’t picture him acting like he used to. Horny, drunken Dylan is nowhere to be seen. Of course, neither are the fans – yet. The real test will come when the reunion tour is announced. But we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.
19
I let out the longest, deepest, most contented sigh and smile to myself.
The car journey home has been a mixture of the boys’ giddy chatter and lively singalongs.
I noticed that Dylan’s vocals had changed in the studio. I wondered if it was down to some kind of magic by Dev but, no, I heard the change again in the car as he sang with the boys. I remember that his voice used to have these irresistibly sexy, raspy qualities. His raw, unrefined tone was part of his charm, it made hearts flutter and knees weak. In hindsight it was probably the result of countless late-night gigs in smoke-filled venues, too many cigarettes, too much alcohol, and everything else that goes hand in hand with rock-star life. Now, though, wow, his voice is so smooth and strong. Velvety soft with these huge bursts of power. His vocals have matured into a sound that genuinely sends shivers down my spine – I love it. His fans are going to be stunned. I suppose taking better care of his body has had this incredible knock-on effect on his vocal cords too.
Dylan pulls up outside our house and helps me get the boys out of the car. I sigh again, a little heavier this time, sad that the day has to end.
‘Okay, boys,’ I say as we hover by the car. ‘Before we go inside, make sure to say a big “thank you” to Dylan for such an amazing day.’
Both Archie and Ned eagerly thank Dylan, their happy faces still lit up with joy.
‘Thanks, Dylan! This was the best day ever!’ Archie tells him. ‘I know for sure now; I want to be a rock star just like you!’
I smile. Archie in particular has had a really special day. Being that little bit older than Ned, he’s been able to appreciate it more. And how many kids get their music lessons from genuine rock stars in a proper recording studio? Oh, and his cowbell is going to make it into the final record, which is so, so cool.
‘You certainly look the part, Archie,’ I tell him.
Taz, it turns out, has become quite a successful tattoo artist during the band’s hiatus. He has these kids’ washable tattoo pens in his bag so, with expert care and precision, he covered the boys’ arms with super-cool temporary tattoos. He told me they wash off straight away, with little more than water. I genuinely think there will be tears when they come off, the boys love them that much.
‘When can I get them done for real?’ Archie asks, waiting patiently for an answer, hopeful for one that will make him happy.
‘Not for a long, long time,’ I tell him. ‘Sorry, kid.’
‘Dylan has so many,’ Archie points out.
‘Well, Dylan is basically an old man,’ I reply – mostly to tease Dylan.
‘And Nicole doesn’t have any because she’s always been too scared,’ Dylan chimes in. ‘And too indecisive. So, if she ever did feel brave enough to get one, by the time she decided what she wanted, she was too scared again.’
‘You’re a baby,’ Archie tells me.
‘I am,’ I say with a sigh. ‘Maybe one day I’ll surprise you but, for now, it’s bedtime. Say bye to Dill.’
‘Bye, Dylan,’ they sing, hugging him at the same time, before charging off towards the house.
‘Bye, Dylan,’ I say to him in a similar, childlike voice.
‘Bye, Nic,’ he replies, laughing at how goofy he sounds.
I hover in front of him for a second. I should hug him – the voice in my head is telling me to hug him. It would be normal to hug him, right?
‘You want one too?’ he asks, reading my mind.
Dylan takes me in his arms and pulls me close. God, I feel so at ease when I’m wrapped up in him.
‘I forget how hard you are,’ I tell him. It’s only when he laughs that I realise exactly what I just said. ‘Your body, I mean, your new muscles. Where has my squishy, smelly friend gone?’
‘I’m still smelly,’ he offers up in consolation.
‘No, you’re not,’ I reply.
We hold eye contact for a second as Dylan keeps me in his arms.
‘Nicole, I need a wee,’ Ned calls out.
‘And that’s my cue,’ I tell him. ‘See you later.’
‘Yeah, see you around the neighbourhood,’ he replies with a laugh.
He returns to his car, to make the very short journey back to Mr Campbell’s house.
‘Right, come on, boys, let’s—’
My voice cuts off as I see Rowan standing in the doorway.
‘Oh, hello,’ I say, sounding a bit like I’ve been caught out, even though I haven’t done anything wrong.
‘Where the hell have you been?’ he asks me. Then he notices the boys’ temporary tattoos. ‘What have you done to my kids?’
‘I need a wee,’ Ned says.
‘It’s okay, kids, go inside,’ I tell them. ‘I’ll catch you up.’
‘Well?’ Rowan prompts me.
‘Oh, they’re your kids?’ I reply. ‘That’s funny, because they were our kids when you left me looking after them this morning.’
‘Yeah, I left you to look after them,’ he reminds me. ‘It’s him, isn’t it? He’s done this to them. How dare he—’
‘How dare he entertain your kids all day, because you were too busy?’ I interrupt him. ‘Bloody hell, Rowan, they’re temporary tattoos, they’ll wash right off – they’re already fading away on their own.’
‘Where have you been?’ he asks me. ‘Not to Jungle Jim’s, I can tell you that, because I went there to find you and you weren’t there.’
‘We took them to a recording studio, to see—’
‘He took them to a recording studio?’ Rowan snaps. ‘Nicole, they’re children, what are you playing at?’
‘I’m not understanding what the problem is,’ I reply. ‘You want me to look after them, entertain them for the day, so I do, but I’ve done it wrong?’
‘Why is he hanging out with my kids?’ Rowan asks. ‘He’s here, he’s living on my street, he’s taking my kids to God knows what kind of environment, he’s muscling his way in at the school – don’t think I don’t know about that – and he’s got you completely distracted, because you still managed to put the red sock back in the wash with my white shirts, and now they’re totally ruined. Oh, and the icing on the cake, he’s giving you long, lingering hugs on my doorstep. I should beat the shit out of him.’
My eyebrows shoot up.
‘Wow,’ I say simply. ‘I mean, just as an FYI, for a guy who spends so much time in the gym, you are not intimidating at all, so you might want to work on that. And you need to grow up.’
I turn around and head down the driveway.
‘Where are you going?’ he calls out. ‘To him, I bet.’
‘Yep, to him,’ I call back as I walk away. ‘For another long, lingering hug.’
My blood boils as I make the short journey across the street. How dare he talk to me like that? How dare he complain about me giving his kids a great day? Honestly, he’s lucky I’m still here, still helping out, still cleaning up the mess he made. That’s the only reason I stuck around, to get the money back that he stole from me for his stupid scheme, to make sure no one else was caught up in it, and to make sure that I left him with his reputation, his job and his house intact – all for the sake of his kids. It’s mad, that he would ever dare to question if I care for them. I love them, and if Rowan will let me, I’ll always be there for them in some way.
I march up to Dylan’s front door and knock way harder than I intended.
‘Hello,’ he says, his smile dropping when he sees my face.
‘Hi, can I come in?’ I ask him.
‘Of course,’ he says. ‘What are neighbours for, huh?’
I follow Dylan through the house, into the kitchen.
‘Coffee?’ he asks.
‘Do you have anything stronger?’ I ask him.
‘I haven’t exactly been shopping,’ he says with a laugh. ‘I can see what Mr C left in his cupboards.’
Dylan pulls out a bottle of whisky.
‘Irish coffee?’ he says with a smile.
‘Perfect,’ I tell him.
I take a seat at the wooden kitchen table and place my head in my hands.
‘What the fuck is wrong with everyone?’ I ask him, not expecting an answer.
‘By everyone, I’m guessing you mean your fella,’ Dylan replies.
‘How did you guess?’ I say, dropping my arms like a stroppy teenager.
‘What can I say? My intuition is just that good,’ he tells me. ‘Also, you were in a great mood when I left you, about fourteen seconds before you knocked on my door, and he’s the only person you had time to interact with.’
I laugh.
‘Great intuition,’ I tell him.
Dylan makes our drinks and nods towards the kitchen door with his head.
‘Come on, let’s take this party to the sofa,’ he suggests.
I follow Dylan into Mr Campbell’s lounge. It’s as dark and moody as I feel. Dylan turns on a couple of lamps, which do little more than give the room an eerie glow.
‘I can’t turn the big light on,’ he tells me. ‘It’s not that it doesn’t work – it’s so powerful it gives you a tan.’
I laugh.
‘It’s okay, I like this light, it’s good for wallowing,’ I say as I take my drink from him. I take a sip and, oof, that’s strong. I’d forgotten about Dylan King measures.
‘So, what’s up?’ he asks me.
‘Oh, it’s just Rowan being a dick,’ I reply. ‘He went mental about me taking the boys to the recording studio, and their temporary tattoos.’
‘Do you want me to go talk to him, to explain what it was like there, that there’s nothing to worry about – I could invite him to join us next time,’ Dylan suggests.
I give him a small smile. He’s so sweet.
‘No, thank you, that’s okay,’ I reply. ‘He’s… he’s not happy about your presence.’
