I’m a singer with a wedding band, did I mention that?
At New Year my band was booked to perform for a New Year’s Eve wedding. It made quite a nice change from the usual New Year bashes we play at, although some things remained the same – people drinking too much, embarrassing dancing and blatant lechery breaking out on the stroke of midnight.
I was watching the scrum for the first kiss of the New Year (which was quite monumental with two hundred and fifty guests merrily launching themselves at each other) and while it was amusing to see of course, I couldn’t help thinking about the man who kissed me nearly two weeks ago.
I can’t believe almost a fortnight has passed since I met him. He’s on my mind all the time. I know this will probably make me sound like a total desperado, but that’s the way it is.
My best friend Wren said something at the wedding that really made me think. We were standing at the front of the stage, dancing away as always, when she leaned over to me during an instrumental break and yelled, ‘Just think, your mystery guy could be at this wedding!’ I immediately scanned the guests across the room to see if she was right and, needless to say, he wasn’t there. But the point is, he could have been. That’s what makes this situation so irresistibly compelling: he could be anywhere. I mean, he was there almost two weeks ago, wandering around just like I was. Perhaps he lives on the next street to me, visits the same coffee shop for his morning cappuccino, or catches the same train. He could be literally anywhere I go from now on – and that just makes me more determined to find him …
‘So, how’s the search for the Phantom Kisser going?’ Jack grinned, as we were carrying speakers into the elegant venue for our next wedding gig, a large Georgian mansion set in acres of beautiful parkland on the outskirts of Stratford-upon-Avon.
‘I wish people would stop calling him that,’ I replied. ‘Honestly, you, Wren, my aunt and uncle … It makes him sound creepy. And he wasn’t.’
Jack’s smile was warm and instantly forgivable. ‘Well, we need to call him something. “Mystery bloke” doesn’t have an alluring ring to it.’
‘How about PK?’ Wren interjected as she arrived with an armful of microphone stands and bent down to stack them on the ballroom floor.
I liked that. It somehow made my handsome stranger seem, well, less of a stranger. I smiled at my friends. ‘Excellent, PK it is!’
Charlie stuck his head between Jack and Wren. ‘Who’s PK?’
‘Oh, just a new make of amp we were talking about,’ Jack said, as quick as a flash.
Charlie’s midnight blue eyes narrowed. ‘Why is Rom buying an amp?’
‘I’m not,’ I said, noticing Wren pull a face and leave. ‘I just read about it and, you know, thought I’d ask …’ It was an awful reply and quite obviously a lie, but thankfully Charlie had other things on his mind and didn’t notice.
‘Whatever. Anyone know what’s got into Tom today? He’s scarily quiet.’
We all looked to the other side of the room where Tom was slumped over his guitar retuning the strings.
Wren shook her head. ‘No idea. He’s definitely not himself, though.’
D’Wayne strolled into the ballroom, iPhone glued to his ear. Wren waved and he approached us. ‘Great news, guys. That gig at the Scottish castle has just been confirmed for May.’
‘Blimey, nice one.’ Charlie couldn’t hide his surprise at the news.
‘Good money, is it?’ Jack asked.
D’Wayne grinned. ‘Oh yes, my friends. Four hundred each, plus expenses, so I’ll book us into a local hotel for the night and whoever drives will have their petrol costs covered.’
‘Well, I think that’s brilliant. Well done, D’Wayne,’ Wren said. Her eyes shone with mischief when she saw the effect her praise had on our manager, who had all of a sudden become a bashful fifteen-year-old.
I left them chatting and walked over to Tom.
‘Hey.’
He didn’t look up. ‘Hey.’
‘You OK?’
‘Peachy, Rom.’
I folded my arms. ‘Don’t ever go into acting, will you? That was dreadful.’
He gave a hollow laugh as he raised his head, and immediately I could see sadness paling his face. ‘Thanks, loser.’
‘What’s going on? You haven’t been yourself all day.’
It was some time before he answered. Tom and I have always had an understanding. While we were at university together, we both worked on Saturdays at his granddad’s pub and during that time we developed a close friendship, talking about everything from music to relationships and whatever other random topics we happened to fall upon. He likes to think that he’s enigmatic and able to shield his feelings from other people, but he’s about as mysterious as a glass box. So when he tells the rest of the band that being an IT specialist in a job with few promotion prospects doesn’t bother him, I know he’s lying. Or when he insists he doesn’t mind that one of his best friends chucked him out of a band just before they landed a huge recording contract and became global stars, I don’t believe a word of it. This latest attempt to avoid the truth was doomed and he knew it.
‘It’s Anya and me. We’re over.’
This was a shock. Tom and Anya had been together since they met at college and though things hadn’t been great between them for a while, we’d all assumed they would work through it. ‘Oh hun, no! What happened?’
He shrugged. ‘She’s met someone else. At work. I mean, a solicitor, for heaven’s sake. I met him once – the guy’s a jerk. His idea of cutting-edge music is James Blunt.’
I placed my hand on his arm and gave it a squeeze. ‘That’s dreadful. When did you …?’
‘Last night. She said we’d run our course and wanted something new. I wasn’t likely to argue with her, not with her mind made up like that. I mean, it sucks, but I guess I’ll get over it eventually.’
‘Yes, you will. Absolutely. In fact,’ I looked out at the venue for tonight’s wedding gig, as people milled around setting tables and arranging flowers underneath an enormous glittering crystal chandelier, ‘I reckon there could be plenty of options for you here tonight.’
That elicited a wry smile. ‘At least some eye candy will keep my mind off stuff.’ He put his hand on my shoulder. ‘Cheers, Rom. Um … would you tell the others and ask them to give me a bit of space? The way Charlie and Jack were looking at me just now I might end up with my head kicked in otherwise.’
‘Sure. The wedding organiser’s just brought us some leftovers from the wedding breakfast. Can I get you anything?’
‘In a totally film-clichéd way, I’m not hungry. Thanks, though.’
I left him and rejoined the others who were enjoying the surprise gift of food at the back of the room.
‘He’s fine,’ I said, when they all looked up at me. ‘But we should just be a bit sensitive around him today, OK?’
‘Fine by me,’ Jack replied through a huge mouthful of food. ‘If he’s not eating it means more for us.’
You never know how a wedding gig will go, and tonight was no exception. Despite the beautiful surroundings, impeccably attired bridal party and equally elegant guests, the atmosphere was noticeably muted and – worse for us – the dance floor remained frustratingly empty after the first dance. D’Wayne offered an unhelpful shrug from the side of the stage whenever I looked over at him. Tom was defiantly quiet and Jack and Charlie wore identical thunderous expressions. Still, Wren and I pressed on regardless, smiling and dancing for all we were worth.
‘Why was nobody dancing?’ Jack asked D’Wayne, as we congregated by the side of the stage while the buffet was served.
‘I don’t understand it,’ he replied. ‘When I booked the gig the bride and groom were adamant their guests would be dancing all night.’
‘Well they weren’t,’ Wren said, stepping out of her impossibly high gold sequinned heels and reaching down to rub her aching feet. ‘I felt like a right prat up there smiling like a loon.’
‘Aye aye,’ Jack nodded in the direction of the groom who was walking towards us. ‘This should be interesting.’
‘Guys, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s got into them. Karen’s really upset.’
Charlie smiled at him. ‘Hey, don’t worry, Josh. It happens sometimes.’
‘Is there anything we can do to help?’ D’Wayne suggested.
Josh shrugged. ‘You’re all great. I can’t think of what more you could do for us.’
Tom threw his hat into the ring. ‘Maybe the set list isn’t exciting your guests? Are there any songs that you and your friends like?’
Josh considered this for a moment. ‘I’m a bit of a fan of Bon Jovi,’ he admitted. ‘My mates always rib me about it.’
Tom, Jack and Charlie shared a look. ‘You reckon you can handle a bit of classic rock, Wren?’
Wren sniggered. ‘Their back catalogue was the first thing I learned to play. My bass teacher was obsessed with them.’
Charlie turned to me with a cheeky smile that momentarily threw me. ‘Think you can manage it, Rom?’
I had never previously found a good time to confess my thorough knowledge of all things BJ (thanks to my brothers playing little else as we were growing up), but now seemed like an opportune moment. ‘I’ll be fine. You call it and I’ll sing it.’
So that’s what we did. And it was as if a switch had been flicked to bring the room to life. Delighted, the guests abandoned the chairs they had been so resolutely glued to and crowded on to the dance floor in an enthusiastic jumble of grooving bodies. Halfway through ‘Living On a Prayer’, Tom sidled up to me, clearly loving the unexpected opportunity of full-on eighties axe-wielding, and yelled: ‘This is the best gig in ages!’
It was great to see Tom’s demeanour so transformed, and fantastic to witness the change in The Pinstripes as a whole. The feeling when you connect with an audience is completely wonderful and unlike any other. There’s an invisible energy that links you to them, an understanding that moves the performance and drives their response. That’s what happened that night and we all felt it. By the end of the night, everybody in the room was smiling – and none broader than Karen and Josh, the radiant bride and groom.
‘That was hilarious,’ Jack said later, as he and I were coiling up microphone leads. ‘Who knew that Bon Jovi had the ability to save a wedding gig?’
I laughed. ‘I can’t get over us doing three encores. Three! When was the last time that happened?’
‘Er, never,’ Wren said. ‘You know, I reckon we’re in the wrong line of business. Maybe we should start a Bon Jovi tribute act.’
‘Or maybe not,’ D’Wayne interrupted. ‘I’ve given out five cards tonight. You’re stuck doing wedding gigs for the time being, I’m afraid.’
‘Perhaps we should make it policy to always ask the bride and groom to nominate their favourite songs,’ I suggested. ‘I don’t want another first set like tonight. It was excruciating.’
‘Amen, sister!’ Charlie brought his drum cases to the front of the stage and hopped off to carry them across the ballroom to the fire exit at the back of the room.
‘Forget that for a second. I want to know how the blog is going,’ Jack said, with a cheeky smile.
I groaned. ‘You saw it then?’
‘Saw it? I’m following it!’
‘Me too,’ Tom added. ‘And I’ve tweeted the link to my Twitter followers.’
‘You mean all the desperate bridesmaids you’ve met at our wedding gigs who are still lusting after you?’ Wren chuckled.
Tom winked back. ‘Hey, what can I tell you? Girls love a guitarist.’
‘Great. So is it safe to assume that the entire band knows about it, then?’ I asked.
‘Knows about what?’ We hadn’t seen Charlie come back in and there was an incredibly awkward pause as he stared at us. I had made a point of not thinking about what would happen when Charlie found out and now, with a sinking heart, I realised why.
‘Rom’s searching for a bloke who kissed her,’ Wren informed him.
I couldn’t tell whether his expression was that of shock or surprise. ‘Oh? When?’
Jack glanced at me. ‘The last Saturday before Christmas. In the Christmas Market.’
Charlie stared at me, a million questions in his eyes. ‘Right.’ My heart went out to him, but I couldn’t find the words to do the same.
‘It’s so sweet,’ Wren continued mercilessly, clearly on a mission. ‘Her mad Uncle Dudley’s concocting all these crazy schemes to try to find him.’
‘So this guy didn’t leave a number?’ Charlie asked.
‘Didn’t hang about, did he, Rom?’ D’Wayne grinned.
‘Blimey, have you seen the time? We need to be out of here by twelve,’ I said quickly, grabbing an armful of microphone stands and making my way off the stage as fast as I could. Dropping them with the stack of equipment by the fire exit doors, I ran out into the frosty car park to my car, leaning against it as I tried to calm my thudding heart. I was angry with myself for not considering how Charlie might react to the news. He had made his feelings towards me abundantly clear; but even so, discovering that the girl who had so openly declared her affections for him had then been kissed by someone else barely twenty minutes later might, understandably, be an unwelcome revelation.
‘Rom.’
I jumped and looked up to see Charlie walking towards me. Great. ‘Hey.’
‘You’re serious about finding this bloke, are you?’
I nodded. ‘I should have told you.’
‘You should have.’
Please, car park tarmac, swallow me now. ‘I’m sorry.’
He shrugged. ‘Don’t be. You’ve every right to do whatever you want. Just be careful, OK? The guy might be an idiot.’
‘Right. Absolutely. Thanks.’ Was that the best I could do? The tension between us was excruciating and alien, and might as well have been a ten-foot-high brick wall for the separation it made me feel from him.
‘Good.’ He regarded me for a moment and then, unexpectedly, leaned in for what was, quite possibly, the world’s most awkward hug. ‘Let’s get back in, shall we?’
Taking a deep breath to combat the shaking in my legs, I followed him into the warmth of the mansion.