Play With You (Loneliness) Read online

  PLAY WITH YOU

  Loneliness Book One

  by

  ALISON COLE

  OTHER BOOKS

  Embrace You - Loneliness Book Two

  Be With You - Loneliness Book Three

  or

  Save Big! Grab the Entire Loneliness Series Trilogy Bundle - Save $4.00!

  Play With You. 1st Edition Copyright © Alison Cole Publishing 2013. All Rights Reserved.

  Cover Art and Design by Humble Nations

  Book Formating Services Provided by Brad Wilson KBG Authors Ecosystem

  This book is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locations are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity, and are used fictitiously. All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue, are drawn from the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, either by electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is for a reviewer who may quote brief passages in the review. This publication is presented to you for informational purposes only and is not a substitution for any professional advice.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 1

  I am beyond fed up! Our band just finished the last concert in our first tour throughout England. The focus should be on our music - right? Not any individual member, whether vocalist or musician - right? Well, she did it again. Gemma, our other female vocalist, decided that the audience attention should be solely on her. Know what she did? She lifted her top at the end of her song. She went braless tonight, so the audience got the full, erm, "benefit" of their view. Nice going, Gemma. You freakin' little exhibitionist, you.

  Let me explain who I am and why I take such a dim view of what she did. I'm no prude. Whilst I've never partaken, I have a healthy love of the human body and its sexuality. But I am also very, very much a music lover. For me, steeping myself in and playing music is akin to breathing. Music, to me, is the elixir of life. I cannot live without it in my life. That being said, I hope you'll have just a little more understanding of why I am so involved in a musical career. I'm only twenty years old. At my age, I know I am doing what I was born to do. I consider myself fortunate - not everyone gets this understanding, much less gets to live out their dream of doing what they love. I do. So, when I see a member of our band pulling such a stunt - baring her breasts so the guys can get a cheap, momentary thrill - it aggravates me beyond words. It's not right and I'll be talking to the boys about it. That is for damn sure.

  We leave the auditorium and board our bus for home. Every single one of us is deadly quiet. It's not the quiet that comes from being exhausted after giving a performance our all. After a concert, we are usually tired, but wound up. Today, nobody makes a single peep. Except for Miss Exhibitionist, of course. She's nattering on about how the crowd "loved her." I shoot a look over to Tim, our group's leader and motion toward the back of the bus. He follows me there and I shut the partition divider.

  "Tim, she did it again! And I'm not talking about that cutesy little 'oops!' thing, either. She grabbed the audience' attention and put it all on her little tits. It was a cheap stunt that's going to make our band a laughing stock all over England. We've warned her about stunts like this and she chose to ignore us. We told her if she did it again, she'd be out. We have to follow through and kick her sorry little arse out. My mum's a kindergarten teacher and she's told me so many times that when you promise a consequence, you have to follow through on it. So it should be with Gemma. When we get back home, call a meeting with all of us and kick her out. If you need to, go ahead and talk to Linny, but I think you'll see that we both feel the same way. Did you feel the tension when we got back on the bus? I'll bet you that it's still deadly quiet in the front," I say.

  "Johanna, I agree, but I do want to talk to Linny and get a feel for what he thinks. I had already decided that when we get home, I'd be calling a group meeting to talk about Gemma. What she did was wrong. I dread looking in the Entertainment section of any Brit newspaper tomorrow. All the writing will be about how she flashed her tits at the audience, not about our music and how we performed the newest pieces," Tim says with a long, tired sigh. "In the meantime, don't say anything to Gemma. Just ignore her - if you can. Put your headphones on or read or something. Just...pretend she's not on this bus."

  "That won't be easy, but it would be worse to have a flaming row on board. I'll turn the volume up and start working on the gifts I'm making. Thanks, Tim." I give him a quick kiss on his forehead. He's like my big, older brother. Back at the front, Gemma is still prattling on about how the guys in the audience loved her.

  "Did'ja see how those blokes in the front rows all went nuts when I lifted my top? They nearly climbed onto the stage! I'll bet you this gets us the publicity..."

  When she says this, I switch my iPod on and turn the volume up. I want to unload on her, but Tim was right. With my earbuds securely in my ears, I begin listening to some gypsy fusion music and pull my latest crochet project out. I can easily lose myself in this - and that's what I need right now. I try to see if I can hear Gemma's voice through the music. No. I can't. Before I start working, I look at Linny and give him a slight shake of my head. He looks like he's about to blow. He nods once to acknowledge my message and abruptly moves to the back of the bus. I grin inside as I see Gemma's look of confusion. If the situation weren't potentially so dire, I'd be laughing like a loon.

  As I crochet, I think about how life has gone for me since I joined the group - swimmingly. I am doing what the God meant for me to do - learn music and sing the songs we write. I don't care about the groupies throwing themselves at me. Yeah, some of them are nice looking, but I'm looking for more than just physical attraction in a relationship. I've dated, sure, but nothing serious. I want to love and be loved.

  Now that I can't hear Gemma wondering why Linny left the front of the bus so abruptly, I focus totally on the cap I'm making for my sister's newest little one. It's a lovely cap, made of the softest yarn in blue, green, yellow and pink. She and her husband want to wait to find out the baby's sex when he or she is born. That's fine with me, because I get to fiddle around with more yarn colors. Next up - an afghan made from the same yarns. If our group doesn't fall apart after Gemma's exhibitionism, I'll have lots of time on the bus to work on it. Slowly, I wind down from the high of the concert and, after a few hours, I'm nearly done with the small cap. I tie a knot in the last stitch and put everything away. After pulling my favorite afghan out, I cover up and drift off to sleep, lulled by the motion of the bus...

  We get home late the next morning and Tim announces a meeting for that evening.

  "No practice. Instead, we'll talk about some issues and make a few badly needed decisions. Be at the studio no later than five-thirty tonight, everyone," Tim said. Tellingly, he doesn't look at Gemma.

  At home, I fly around, washing my dirty clothing and tidying up my apartment. It's not too cold outside, so I throw open two windows to blow out the stuffiness and make the place smell good again. After eating dinner, I check the time. Throwing a jacket on, I grab a notebook and pen, then board the subway. As I ride, I write down several notes to myself - notes I want to mention as we meet about Gemma's stunts in the group. God, I hope we fire her!

  In the studio, the mood is much like it was on the bus last night - quiet and foreboding. I grab a chair
and switch my iPod on again as I see - and hear - Miss Exhibitionist nattering on about the possible topics for the meeting. She thinks she's about to be given a larger role in the band. Not likely. Before I got busy with my cleaning, I read a review in the London Times. It was not a good review. Mine and Tim's fears were realized - Gemma's tit-flashing has made our band the butt of many bad jokes. I brought that review with me in my messenger bag.

  "Okay, everyone, let's get started," Tim says. "First, to most of you - well-done! We carried off a kick-ass tour, audiences throughout England loved us and we had a great uptick in our new CD and band sales. Johanna, you played the keys damned perfectly, as usual, and damn, you carried off those vocals. Bravo! Linny, you absolutely killed it on the drums and the audiences loved your solos. Gemma, when you weren't pulling stunts, you did a wonderful job on the bass - and that's why we're here tonight. We've talked to you in past about your tit-baring stunt. We're a serious band and we play serious music. We all have extensive musical training and we aren't a band that was put together in someone's garage in the byways of the U.K. In short, Gemma, we don't need nudity to get more publicity for the band."

  Here, I pull out the review I found in the London Times. I see Tim and Linny pulling out different newspapers as well, all turned to reviews of our completed tour and, very likely, about Gemma's latest stunt. As it turns out, I'm right.

  "Gemma, I found a review in the paper - a tabloid. Today, our band is a laughing stock. All the good reputation we built up over the past nine months - gone. Johanna, what paper do you have and what does it say?" Tim asks me.

  "I picked up a copy of the London Times. All the good performances and concerts have been overshadowed by Gemma's tits at the end of the concert last night. And the reporter went through their archives and found coverage of her other tit-baring stunts. 'Laughing stock' doesn't begin to touch it, Tim. Music is the essence of my life, Gemma - it's my reason for being. I was accepted into, and graduated from, one of the top music academies in all of Great Britain. My goal has only ever been to be a serious musician and vocalist. Here, I have that opportunity - only to see you ruin all the hard work our band has done by flashing your fucking tits. We're being laughed at and trashed as if we were some garage band. And that doesn't feel one damn bit good. I talked to Tim last night and I told him exactly how I feel. Did you feel how awkward the bus ride was last night? That was us holding in our anger so we wouldn't ruin the trip home. D'you know what kinds of groups do that, Gemma? Amateur garage bands that don't take themselves seriously - and you are welcome to leave our group and join one of those groups if you feel that a display of your tits is so necessary," I say with sharp anger.

  Gemma rolls her eyes.

  "Gemma, Johanna is right. What you did last night was...well, for me, it was the last straw. I'm not going to say anything beyond that because Johanna touched on everything. Sadly, you proved once again last night that you are no professional. The behaviors you've indulged in are unwelcome in our band and...you're fired, effective tonight. I'll mail your cut of our proceeds when the bank releases the check to us," said Tim. "Oh, here, take this. If this is what you insist upon doing, this is the kind of public treatment you can expect to receive." Tim throws the tabloid at Gemma. I follow through and throw the review I found at her.

  "Gemma, I was about to blow my lid at you last night. If Johanna hadn't signaled me, I would have done so. Here's a copy of a review I found in our local paper. I warn you - it's painful reading. Read it and drown your sorrows at the pub," says Linny with disgust plain in his voice. He throws his review at Gemma.

  Gemma begins storming around the studio. She picks up different items and flings them, breaking most. Music stands, music packets, paper, pens, chairs - if she could lift it, she threw it. All along, she screams and, given her vocal range, that makes her damn loud. "What the fuck are you wankers saying? We got publicity, publicity we've been crying for! If you fire me, I'll file the biggest fuckin' lawsuit London's ever seen. I'll bury you! So I bared a little chest - the blokes all loved it! You heard them yelling when I did it. These reviews - rubbish! They don't count." said Gemma.

  "They don't count?! Gemma, listen to this," I say. I grab the paper from the floor where it fell and read a passage aloud: "One concert-goer said 'When Gemma McCullough bared her tits, that was great! I'd follow the band from city to city just to see that. To hell with the music - show me some tits!' Here that, Gemma? All he focused on was your fuckin' little tits! That is not why I joined this band! I am a serious musician and stunts do not cut it for me! Take these and go! And don't come back!" I yell at Gemma. As I do, I crumple the reviews and shove them into her arms.

  Tim moves to Gemma's side and motions toward the studio door. "Gemma, go. I'll mail your last check to you. We're going to talk about auditioning a new member for the band. About that lawsuit - any lawyer you hire would refuse to take you on, given the stunts you've pulled. I pulled your contract out. Please read it, especially the clause where it talks about you promising not to do anything that gives our band a bad name. In case you forgot, you initialed each clause, including that one, and you signed the contract on the last page. You agreed that you wouldn't pull any stunts after I added that clause to your contract. And, bear in mind, I haven't had to do that with Linny or Johanna, because they take our reputation and publicity seriously."

  Gemma forgets she's holding several newspaper reviews in her arms. Looking at us with shock, she backs up and bumps into the studio wall. Tim is following her closely and opens the door. Motioning with one hand, he escorts her outside, then closes and locks the door.

  "Good riddance! I knew she'd pull that stunt again, but I needed to give her one last chance to prove herself. She didn't want to do that, so...let's talk about the next step. Johanna, do you know of any bassists?"

  I pause and think of the guys I went to school with. "None that are at our level, Tim. Most are still in university or academy," I tell him.

  "Linny?" he asks.

  "I might know someone. He plays a mean bass and I believe he's got a pretty good voice, so he could join in on choruses. His name's Laslow Hadley. I could call him and ask him in for an audition," Linny says slowly.

  "Laslow Hadley? Okay. I'll call an announcement in to the papers and put one on the website. Soon as we get some responses, I'll set up several auditions. We'll all need to be here to play and sing, so we see how they all fit in with the band. We'll take a vote on each one. For now, we're done. I just want to go home and wash the day away. Soon as the check clears the bank, I'll issue pay to everyone," says Tim.

  Everyone splits ways and I go back to my apartment. Once home, I begin to relax, relieved that the deadweight of Gemma is gone. We don't have to worry about her, the antics she pulls or her attitude any more. Let her audition with a garage-level band and raise their publicity with her sorry tits!

  Chapter 2

  "Oy, lads, look at the applications we've gotten! We're gonna be very busy auditioning potential members to replace She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named," says Tim. I giggle at his little reference.

  "We'll start auditioning tomorrow. And, be warned, we will be busy all day long until we get through the full list. As of this morning, I had over thirty applicants expressing interest in joining our crew!" says Tim.

  Tim wasn't lying - we have loads of interested applicants wanting to join our band. It seems that we are still taken seriously in some quarters, notwithstanding Gemma's stunts. Thank God! Still, we get to the studio most mornings before nine a.m. and we don't leave until nearly twelve hours later. Some of the applicants are pretty good. We record every audition so we know who performed the best and who we won't be calling back. Some of the applicants are pathetic. Either they can't play their instruments or their singing sounds like drunk, out-of-tune dogs.

  After a few days, Laslow comes in, as Linny promised he would. Boy, can he slap the hell out of the bass! His singing isn't half-bad, either. Along with him he brings his brother, Marcus. Mar
cus sits to the side and watches and listens attentively. And he is some bit of good-looking, that Marcus! He's not very tall, but he makes up for that with some impressive muscles. And his eyes? Intense, emerald-green and they seem to look straight into my soul. He's beautiful. I know men aren't traditionally "beautiful," but he is. Just the combination of his looks and his laid-back personality all combine to make a very beautiful man.

  Finally, we finish auditioning all the applicants. Tim comes in with a tall stack of audition tapes - we are in for another long day.

  "Okay, lads, we know what we're looking for. We need to whittle this list down and get just one who will become a member of our band," Tim says after he stretches.

  "Tim, before we begin - I think we're all in agreement that we want someone who holds a deep passion for music, not just someone who is technically knowledgeable," I insert.

  "True. I think some of these audition tapes will jump out at you," he says.

  With that, we settle in with cups of tea and lots of snacks so we can review the audition tapes of each applicant. Tim is right - some were good, some fantastic and some were bloody awful. I hear one woman's singing and jump out of my chair. Her voice sounds like a bunch of cats in heat - and I am not exaggerating!

  "Okay, this is the applicant that Linny recommended - Laslow. Remember his audition?" Tim clicks the play button.

  I settle in, remembering not only his technical skill, but his passion for the music when he played his audition piece. As I watch him playing once again, I smile and I close my eyes. Now he is someone I can imagine playing with our band - he is that good!

  "Tim, what kind of formal training does he have?" I ask.