The Devil's Tattoo Read online

  We were in the middle of recording our third album and usually we all got along in such close quarters. We had long days and nights, but we'd thrived on those things. This time, we'd been at each other’s throats and I knew it was my fault. I could tell myself that it wasn't, that I was still messed up, but that would be a lie. Months had passed since all of that and the only one who was keeping me back was me.

  I'd been driving the guys mad with my mood swings and even I didn't know where I was coming from anymore. As if I hadn't done enough after all that crap with my ex.

  The tram pulled up at the stop, the doors opening with a squeal and I climbed on, swiping my card at the terminal. I needed to get out, like yesterday, so I was headed for the city. There was a band I'd wanted to see for ages called Ipswich. They'd been around a while and heaps of people were talking about them and they were on tonight at Cherry. I hadn't been out in months and I hoped this would kick my ass into gear.

  There was a girl sitting in the back of the tram with long dark-brown hair and a black jacket and I had to do a double take in case it was her. When it wasn't, I sunk down in an empty seat, slumping against the window. Ever since I saw that woman in the crowd at our last gig, I found myself looking everywhere I went, hoping that I might see her again. I never did and I began to wonder if I'd really seen her in the first place. The only thing that stopped me from going mad was Pete. He'd seen her too.

  Sometimes, I thought going mad might be better than this. Then I'd actually know what was wrong with me. How can you pine over a girl who might or might not be real? I was such a wanker.

  Cherry Bar was probably one of my favourite places to catch a band in the city. It was small, dark and intimate. There was no backstage area. There was hardly a stage. It was like one huge house party that cost eight bucks to get into, depending on who was playing. It was a place well known for it's dirty rock history and attracted all types of alternative people.

  As I walked down the alleyway towards the door, I noticed the lineup had changed. The support that was on the flyer had been dusted off the chalkboard and another had replaced it. The Devil's Tattoo. Great name. I wondered what they were like. New bands appeared all the time and sometimes it was hard to keep up. Not many of them made it and the ones who did didn't always stay there.

  That's why I was so glad to be a part of The Stabs. I mean, we had that success, but we were brothers. Not all bands had that with one another, you know? Recording, touring… you had to live on top of one another and getting along could break the best of them.

  The girl on the door took my money, but her eyes lingered on me for far too long. She was pretty enough, but not my type at all. Tall, slender, long blonde hair, tattoos and heavy make up. I was stark in contrast, wild curly hair, tattoos and a beat up denim jacket. Any guy would fall over themselves for her, but I only wanted one person. A figment of my imagination. With a thin smile, I went inside and elbowed my way straight to the bar.

  "Hey," someone called out to me as I passed.

  Looking around, I saw Billy and clapped him on the shoulder. Billy was the guy who picked us up when The Stabs were playing tiny places like this. He's a talent scout for our label and it's his job to go see bands play. You know, finding the next best thing. Sounded easy, but you had to have the right kind of ear for it.

  "What are you doing out tonight?" he asked. "Aren't you guys recording?"

  I shrugged. "Yeah. I needed a break."

  "Shit," he laughed. "I know what you mean, bro."

  He introduced me to a few people he was with and when they heard who I was they all seemed very interested. Drawback number one of being in a band people know. They suddenly want to know you and be popular by association. I don't subscribe to that shit.

  "Have you seen 'em before?" Billy asked, picking up on my mood. "Ipswich?"

  "Na," I shook my head. "I've heard some good things, though."

  "What about that other band? I've never heard of them before."

  I remembered the band that had been added last minute. "No. They must be new."

  "Oh, they're starting," Billy said, looking over the crowd towards the stage. "I'm going down front. Catch you round, bro."

  As people moved away from the bar to hear the band, I snuck in and got a drink and weaved my way towards the top of the stairs. Here, I could see and not be bothered.

  The Devil's Tattoo was a typical four piece. Two guitars, bass and drums. There's three guys and a girl and suddenly, I'm interested. Guys usually dominate these types of rock bands. Her back was to the crowd, but I could see she must have an attitude. She's got on a black leather biker jacket, tight black jeans that hug her ass in just the right way and beat up combat boots. My type of girl. Her hair is long, dark and wavy and I suddenly wondered… When she turned around, her hair was covering most of her face, but I'd recognise it anywhere and my heart thudded painfully in my chest. It's her. It had to be.

  God, and then she opened her mouth and sung. Ever read one of those stories about sailors getting lost at sea and drowning themselves because of siren calls from beautiful mermaids? Sounded bloody stupid, but she's fucking calling to me now and I would have drowned myself gladly.

  Her fingers glided across the strings of her guitar effortlessly and I wondered why I'd never heard of this band before or any other band she'd been a part of. She was… phenomenal. I had to get closer, so I threaded my way through the crowd of people and I swear everyone who's watching is mesmerised. They're bloody brilliant. If Billy doesn't pick them up, he's mad. Shit, I'd push for them to be signed myself.

  Standing in the middle of the room, five people out from the stage, I just watched, the drink in my hand forgotten. They run through song after song, people cheering and clapping around me, but I've only eyes for her. The ghost, the siren and I think I'm alive again.

  Before I'm ready, they start playing the last song of their set and it took my breath away, how sad and soulful it was. I hung on every word and it was so gut wrenching, I wondered if she'd been hurt by someone. It's like she was telling a story.

  As the last notes died away into applause, I shook my head and clapped, overwhelmed. That's when she chose to look up at the crowd for the first time and her eyes collided with mine. For a moment I thought she might have remembered me, but she looked away and hurried off stage, leaving my heart thumping.

  "Wow," Billy said behind me. "I'd keep my eye on them."

  Oh man, I intended to.

  I watched as people stopped and talked to her. The way she shrunk back into her hair was captivating. Was she shy? Did she think about people the same way I did? What did her voice sound like when she wasn't singing? I looked back at the bartender, who was still serving another person and when I turned around, she was gone.

  I leant against the bar with a sigh, determined to talk to her. This time, I wouldn't let her get away without at least getting her name. Someone pressed against me, a warm arm against my skin and I turned to glare, but everywhere tingled and burned. It's her, and abruptly I began to understand the depth of the thing I have for this woman who I don't even know.

  Angling my body face on to hers, I smiled and managed to get out the word, "Hey."

  Her face softened and she said, "Hey."

  Suddenly, someone grabbed her arm and pulled her away from me, her eyes wide with surprise, the soft, innocent way she'd spoken to me leaving me breathless.

  Watching her with disappointment, I saw it was one of the guys from her band and he's talking to her with a scowl on his face. Were they together? He sure seemed protective. The thought had never crossed my mind that she might already be taken. That guy looked pissed and it wasn't a stretch for anyone to find out about my reputation. The guy let her go and the way he acted towards her let me know that they were just friends.

  And the thing about reputations was that they were not always true. I'd been pigeonholed as the typical rock star player. Womaniser. One night stand aficionado. All because of one woman who'd smash
ed me to bits. Now, I was stuck with it.

  Watching as the lead singer of my new favourite band, The Devil's Tattoo, was dragged away to pick up their gear, I knew I had to do something. First things first was convincing Billy to take a second look. Then maybe I'd be able to see her again in an official capacity and then maybe my reputation mightn't get in the way.

  Maybe next time, I'd get her name.

  Turned out, The Devil's Tattoo did their own work towards getting signed. Billy picked them up not long after that gig at Cherry and for once in my life, things seemed to be moving in the right direction. And it was one interview in Beat that gave me the information I was looking for. Her name.

  Zoe Granger.

  It was probably a little obsessive on my part, but I found myself watching their music video for their single, Walls, over and over. This was the moment when Pete decided to call an intervention and it was exactly how they found me on the couch in the living room of the house Pete and I shared.

  Louie snapped the lid of the laptop closed, making me jump.

  "Pussy whipped," Sticks smirked, sitting in the armchair across from me.

  "What is this, an intervention or something?" I sighed, tossing the laptop on the couch next to me.

  "Bingo," Louie stated, perching on the arm of the couch.

  "You're so strung out, mate, it's driving us nuts," Sticks groaned.

  "You know who she is now," Pete said. "Do something about it."

  I shook my head. "If I just go up and talk to her, she'll think I'm only after one thing."

  "But, isn't that what you want?" Sticks said with a smirk.

  "No," I glared at him.

  "This one's different," Pete said and everyone stopped.

  "I reckon," Louie agreed.

  "You want them on tour, don't you? This coming one."

  I didn't say anything. I was a little embarrassed that a girl I'd only spoken one word to had gotten me this wound up and obsessed.

  "You've been driving us all nuts over this Zoe chick," Louie said, seemingly making the decision for everyone.

  "If it'll get you off our backs, then we'll help you push for it," Sticks said, closing off his thought.

  "They're amazing anyway," Pete agreed. "It'll be great if we could at least play a gig together."

  They seemed to have settled on it and after a while, Louie and Sticks went off home, leaving me with Pete.

  "If they get on tour with us, you've gotta tone it down, Will. You know the intensity level is a little alarming."

  I scowled at him, knowing he was right. "Don't screw this up for me Pete."

  He held up his hands, raising his eyebrows. "Consider these hands off."

  "Good," I said, turning back to the laptop.

  "Just don't do anything stupid."

  "Since when do I do stupid stuff?"

  "Since always."

  He had a point.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ZOE

  The next six months went by in a blur. I'd gotten past the first gig, but it was only the first. Once Dee had me going, he went full tilt booking gigs, getting our name out there. He'd even gotten me to sing a few songs with him on the street. He told me it wasn't a coincidence that he earned more money on those days than the ones without me.

  The next thing on the list was to get something down in mp3 form. Frank knew a guy out in Footscray who'd set up a recording studio in his shed. Knowing the kind of people Frank knew, I had been expecting soundproofing to be gaffer taped to the wall and the mower in the corner, but it was a really tight outfit. The guy had helped some other local bands record some songs and we had a really great time with it.

  Everything we'd done up until now had been just for kicks. Dee had promised me black and blue. That was, until he posted our EP online and went on a marketing binge in his spare time. I hadn't realised what he'd done until I heard our song on the radio. On the bloody radio. I was mad for two seconds until I heard what people were saying about it. Then the phone started ringing. People wanted to know what I thought and people actually listened.

  All the time we'd been playing, not once did I see one of my old friends and not once did I think about them. Once I'd faced my fear at that first gig, it was straight ahead and no looking back. I felt more confident now than I had in my entire life.

  Then Chris hooked us up with a guy he knew who was a film major at RMIT. He needed a project for his finals and we were it. We had an EP and a music video for Walls, now all we needed was the contract and it wasn't long in following. With a label at our backs and royalties starting to come in, I quit my job in the mailroom and started busking with Dee for a little extra cash to put into savings.

  We played a lot of gigs around Melbourne and even went to a few regional towns and came out of it breaking even and sometimes with a little more. We did photo shoots and interviews and people were downloading our self-released EP in droves, but we still didn't have enough money between us to go further afield. The label was working on it, but these things took time. Dee's dream was coming true, but deep down, mine was as well. For the first time in two years, I was happy.

  Truthfully, I was expecting to feel overwhelmed by all the attention, but I felt strangely calm. I felt like I finally fit in somewhere and I owed it all to Dee.

  Today was the first day our single, Walls was available for sale. It wasn't on our EP and it was the one thing people wanted to hear. Anything could happen now and I was feeling a little sick about it.

  I was still asleep when the phone rang. It was my Mum.

  "I brought your single on the computer just now," she told me. I gathered she meant from iTunes. I gushed at how technological and modern she was and I could tell she was proud she figured it out without having to call me first. "Are you nervous?"

  Of course I was nervous today. I told her as much. Our first single was released ten minutes ago according to the clock on my radio. "I’ve got to go, Mum. They want to interview me and Frank for the radio later."

  I pressed the red phone button and made sure the line was disconnecting before cursing out loud. The phone rung again. Unknown Number. I picked it up anyway.

  "Hello?"

  "Walls has gone to number fucking eight on iTunes!" It was Dee on the other end.

  Shit.

  "Are you there, Zoe?"

  "Yeah. Shit. Already? Guess we better organise a show or something, huh?"

  "That’s the other thing I was calling you about. Simone is about to call you anyway, I just got off the line with her. We have been offered a co-headline tour. You’ll never guess who with!"

  Simone had become our sort of manager. She came on with us a month ago when things started to take off and was happy to work for next to nothing. I guess we're her lucky break. I'd gone from hanging out with Dee, to hanging out with the guys, to hanging out with Simone. She was the first genuine female friend I'd had in a long time.

  I'm not sure who the label has chosen us to tour with and took a wild stab in the dark. "Prince. The Pixies. Powderfinger’s comeback tour. AC/DC. Kings of Leon. Don't tell me there's an Oasis reunion."

  "Not quite," he laughed. "It’s the fucking Stabs."

  I sat up then. "No way." I hadn't listened to them since the awkward eyebrow incident a few months ago.

  "Remember when we went to see them that time? What did I say about being better than them! I have dreams about showing them up."

  "What? This whole time?"

  "No, just for the last ten minutes."

  "Oh my god," I paused. This was happening way too fast.

  "Zoe, they asked for us. The band asked for us."

  "Why?"

  "Because they know something shit hot when they hear it."

  I think about Will Strickland and my stomach churned, the thought crossing my mind that he had something to do with it and I shook my head. In what twisted reality would Will Strickland do over his band's record label to get us on tour? Someone who'd only spoken one word to me. I tried to forge
t it. "I better go, Dee. Frank will be here soon for the call in for the radio interview."

  "Say something nice about me."

  Simone called as Dee said she would. The thing about Simone is that she's the total opposite of me. Blonde, bubbly and talks a mile a minute about nothing and everything all in the same breath. Give her something to organise and she's happier than a kid in a candy store. Over the last few months, we've become friends and I'm glad she's along for the ride.

  "Tour dates are confirmed February through March, nation wide. We’ve just got to get the okay from you and Chris, everyone else has agreed to it. The record company is prepared to foot most of the expenses since the single is doing so well. They're cutting the same deal they do for The Stabs."

  "Even though it was only released today?"

  "They are prepared to take a risk since sales have gone through the roof in the first few hours. The national radio play has helped too, you know."

  I sighed, "Why are we even discussing this? Of course I agree. It’s The Stabs after all. It’ll be good for us." What I didn’t say is that I could perv on Will Strickland for five weeks straight and watch Dee lose his mind trying to stay between us. Not that Will would go for it. I wasn't exactly the warmest of people. It was better as a fantasy in my own head than in reality.

  "Brilliant! Hey, good luck with the interview this arvo. Dee tells me you’ll be rehearsing tonight so, if you don’t mind I’ll stop by and give you all the details for the tour. Kick off is just over three weeks!" Simone squealed a little and abruptly hung up.

  I grimaced at the phone and threw it on the bedside table and rubbed my eyes. My earlier thought echoed around my head like a coin in a tumble dryer. This was going way too fast. I almost felt sick, but I rolled out of bed and dragged myself into the shower. Thank god radio doesn't mean I have to look presentable.

  I'd just managed to get dressed when there was a knock on the door. I opened it up, hair still dripping, and found Frank standing outside, looking all handsome and buff in a red flannel shirt and a Devil's Tattoo shirt he got one of his mates to make up.