The petite, dark-haired girl onstage was mangling ‘I Love Rock And Roll’ but the onlookers didn’t care, shouting encouragement and swaying in time to the beat. It was meant to be a restaurant, but it was bathed in blue light, which lent it more of a jazz atmosphere. Most of the customers were dressed in work clothes even though it was well past midnight.
Richie had insisted on heading solo to the club in the Marais, but to my surprise Carter had backed me up and we’d ended up here. He went to the bar and ordered four Sambucca shots without getting carded.
‘Two for you.’ He slid them across the bar. ‘And two for me.’
I sniffed the shot, remembering my promise to Dad. It smelled like liquorice and petrol. ‘No thanks. I’ll have a lemonade.’
‘You’ve got to be properly buzzed to do this,’ he said. ‘Trust me.’
I ordered my own drink, ignoring his eye-roll, then followed him to a free table and slid into the chair beside him so we could both see the stage. He flicked through the ageing Filofax on the table and said, ‘Now we choose a song to knock these folks sideways.’
‘How do you know so much about this?’
‘Dad used to take me. It’s a good way to get over stage fright.’
It was hard to believe Carter ever got stage fright. The girl stepped down, there was lacklustre applause, and then a couple of young women in corporate gear took the stage. ‘So, we’ve had Joan Jett to start – a classic, if a little predictable,’ he narrated. ‘What’s next, what’s next?’
I thought I was ready for anything, but when the opening bars of the next track began I grabbed his hand, my fingers digging into his skin.
‘Ow,’ he said and, as I always did when I touched Carter, I second-guessed myself – but he didn’t move his hand.
‘Did you plan this?’
He let out half a laugh. ‘How could I have planned this, Jim?’
‘He’s always single but he’s never alone,’ sang the first girl in a decent voice, while her friend bobbed along, holding the mic like she had no idea what to do with it.
He’s got a million girls saved into his phone
If he’s ever lonely, he just calls up and sees
Who’s ready to tango with King Cutie ...
I couldn’t wrench my eyes from the stage. It was like stepping into a movie, seeing strangers – in Paris – singing the words I had written. Carter was loving every second of it. He spoke into my ear as the backing track swelled.
‘Watch and weep, Jim. These random French chicks will show you how it’s done.’
He was built for chasing tail
Almost undefinably male
The second girl couldn’t sing as well as her friend, but was more confident in her delivery. As she sang the line, ‘One cocked eyebrow and an arm’s-length smirk’ I looked over at Carter and he cocked one eyebrow.
‘How do you do an arm’s-length smirk, Jim?’ he asked. ‘I’ve always wondered that.’
At the party, the bar, or in the club
He’s chasing the night but it’s never enough
And on the dance floor, at Whisky-A-Go-Go
– the crowd cheered at the update –
He steps up close and says, ‘Baby, let’s go’ ...
‘Which song are we doing, then?’ Carter hooked his fingers through mine, like he had on the balcony at Regatta, and adrenalin pulsed through me at the memory.
‘You choose,’ I said. ‘I’m up for a challenge.’
He stepped in close to me. ‘OK then, baby, let’s go,’ he said, and pulled me over to the stage.
•
We walked back to the hotel with our arms around each other. My head was racing as I thought about the unexpected turn the night had taken. I would never have picked Carter for a karaoke fan. I would never have thought he would hold me like this again, like Regatta had never happened.
We’d started by belting out Meatloaf, of all things – Carter’s choice – before moving on to our old classics from the early nights in the boathouse: ‘Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High?’ by Arctic Monkeys, Fleetwood Mac’s ‘The Chain’, Queen’s ‘Under Pressure’. We weaved and dipped around each other, taking turns to pick the song and do the lead. And, best of all, no-one recognised me: it turned out my normal clothes were the perfect disguise.
Carter bought me a bottle of water from a kiosk and lit a cigarette as I took a swig. It was a warm night, the sky clear and bright with streetlamps, but not so bright that we couldn’t see the stars.
‘I didn’t know Verity was your first love,’ I said.
His smile was a little embarrassed. ‘Yeah. Well, I wouldn’t have phrased it like that. But we’ve been on and off for a while.’
‘That makes it worse.’ I pressed against his side, and he squeezed my waist.
‘How does that make it worse?’ His voice was quiet, like we were the only two people in the city.
‘Well, you’ve known her a long time. You’re supposed to be able to trust her.’
‘Hmm.’ He carefully blew his smoke over his shoulder, away from me. ‘She would probably say the same, though. It makes what I did to her worse. She should’ve been able to trust me.’
That seemed fair enough. It was strange, almost thrilling to hear him admit he wasn’t proud of the way he’d behaved. Carter wasn’t exactly given to apologies.
‘Anyway, what about Addie …’ he said. ‘Are you just doing what Amir wants, or do you actually like her?’
‘It’s not anything,’ I said. I wanted to be friends with Addie, but couldn’t imagine feeling at home in the house with the statues on the lawn. I couldn’t imagine her ever letting her guard down enough to kiss me, even if I’d wanted her to.
‘Certainly sounds like it’s something when you’re asked about it in interviews,’ he commented.
‘That’s just for Amir,’ I said, but that wasn’t entirely true. I’d been thinking about it all night, and I realised a part of me had enjoyed the way the presenter and audience looked at me when I’d spoken about Addie. It was kind of flattering that all those people really believed I could pull someone like her. But I couldn’t tell Carter that. And I didn’t want to talk to him about Addie right now, anyway. Not when his hand was brushing my bare skin, and all I could think about was how right it felt to have his arm around me.
Finally, we found ourselves at the hotel. We stood at the foot of the steps, and he turned to face me. For an exhilarating moment I thought he might kiss me, but he didn’t, just pressed his forehead against mine. It seemed dreamlike, as if the world’s rules had been turned on their heads.
As the lift opened on our floor, he asked me to come to his room, and I said yes because I didn’t want the night to end.
‘I need your advice on something,’ he said as he slid the key into the lock.
The curtains were open and the early orange light of dawn filled the horizon beyond the spires of the city. I sat on the bed while he got his guitar out of its case, trying not to feel disappointed that he really did want my advice on a song and that the invitation hadn’t been a ruse to get me into his room. I decided to focus all my attention on his song; at least then I wouldn’t be thinking about me and him and what might have been. We’re just friends, I reminded myself firmly as he perched opposite me, put a pick between his teeth while he tightened the tuning pegs, then started to play. It was a moody tune, almost eerie, with the strong influence of his favourite bands: Muse, Panic! At the Disco, Lana Del Rey. When he started to sing, his voice was shaky despite the hours we’d spent warming up at the karaoke bar.
In the club, I know my type
Grab your coat and I’ll take you into the night
This one has that look I like
If you come with me I’ll make it worth your while
I smiled. I liked how blatant his lyrics were – how completely unapologetic about his intentions, his desires. Of course this was what Carter would write about. With a shiver, I tried to imagine my voice singing these words. He kept his eyes down, avoiding my gaze, as if what I thought actually mattered to him.
Now we’re up against the wall
It’s what the night is all about
And now it’s time to seal the deal
Your friends are wondering where you are
Follow me down the hall
It’s just too close to call
It’s just too close to call
It’s out of my control
Carter could hold a tune but he didn’t have much range, and I knew when I sang it, it would be more emotional. I tried to imagine it the way Boris would: with production, layered vocals, session musicians – maybe strings? A violinist? It was odd that he had chosen a minor key: it gave it a melancholic feel despite the lyrics.
So now we’ve been up all night
Thought you knew me, but it was just a trick of the light
For a second we were tight
But now it’s morning and we’re just too damn polite
He finally looked up at me and I realised I was swaying in time. He smiled and sounded more confident as the chorus swirled again. I decided that when it was time to record, we would build to a crescendo here and I would really draw it out, make it a defiant release from the high-strung verses.
I’m backed up against a wall
And this is my own fault but
We are just too close to fall
Go back to find your friends and then
I guess that that is all
We’re just too close to fall
He stopped abruptly and laid down the guitar.
‘I’m impressed ...’ I started.
‘What, didn’t you think I could do it?’
I shot him a look and took the guitar from his hands. ‘Of course I knew you could do it. Teach it to me. You got it written down somewhere?’
He tapped the side of his head with one long finger. ‘Nah, it’s all in here. Start in E.’ He reached out and moved my hand over the neck of the guitar. A few months ago I would’ve found that annoying – it wasn’t like I didn’t know where E was – but I didn’t fight it now.
Outside, a bird swept through the sky, its cries coming in through the open window and mingling with the song. As Carter taught me the music and I learned the lyrics, I realised how stupid I’d been to think he might have wanted me in his hotel room for any other reason, and suddenly burst out laughing. He stared at me, waiting for an explanation until I said, slightly embarrassed at my laughter, ‘They say you should write what you know, hey?’
He looked blank.
‘I mean, of course you’ve written a song about a one-night stand.’
I’d expected him to break into a smile, but he just looked confused. ‘It’s not about a one-night stand.’
I raised an eyebrow cynically. ‘No, of course, it’s about true love.’ I quoted his lyrics. ‘“Grab your coat and I’ll take you into the night? I’ve got you pressed up against the wall? Now let’s seal the deal”!’
‘That’s not what it’s about. I know it might be hard for you to believe, but I actually have hidden depths,’ he said.
‘Oh, do you?’ I said. ‘You could’ve fooled me.’
He examined the guitar callouses on his fingertips. ‘Well, OK then,’ he said. ‘You believe what you want to believe.’
I wished I’d never opened my big mouth. Things had been so easy between us just a few moments ago, but now I’d offended him somehow. My anger flared. ‘Wait up, you think I want to believe that?’ I said. He spread his hands. ‘You think I want to believe it’s all just as casual as a handshake for you? You think I want to believe that every time you hook up with someone it just means nothing?’ I pulled myself up. At some point I’d stopped talking about the song.
‘That’s what you think of me?’ he said slowly. ‘You’ve been in a band with me for months and you live with me and that’s what you think of me?’
I crossed my arms over the guitar. I wanted to rewind the night, back to him pressing his forehead against mine outside, before he’d shown me the song. I knew better than anyone that it was hard to show someone new music. I didn’t know why I was being so callous.
Actually, I knew exactly why I was being so callous.
‘Look, Jim, I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m not a machine. It’s not the same with everyone,’ he said. His voice was hard-edged, underlining just how unreasonable I was being. ‘It wasn’t like it meant nothing with you.’
‘Well,’ I said, ‘maybe that’s true, but it wasn’t enough, was it?’
‘That’s what you think?’ he hissed. ‘That you weren’t enough?’ He clutched my arms so tight it hurt, and the guitar clanged in my lap. ‘Look, what happened at Regatta was all on me. It wasn’t about anything you did or didn’t do. I was off my face that night and honestly, the prerequisite with Verity was that she had a heartbeat.’
The breath went out of me, half laugh, half pain. ‘And doesn’t that make you a standout guy?’
‘No. It makes me a piece of shit. But what it doesn’t have any bearing on is you,’ he said, and his voice cracked, and then he tipped forward and kissed me, softly, like he was afraid I wouldn’t accept it.
And I didn’t accept it, not really. My only concession was closing my eyes as his lips brushed over mine. Then I pushed him away.
He seemed totally calm, like he’d just been trying his luck and the kiss had meant nothing to him. ‘Sorry,’ he muttered. ‘That was a bad idea. I mean, we’d be totally wrong for each other. Plus, we need to consider the band, and everything.’
‘Carter …’ He was right, but I didn’t want it to end like this. I touched his neck, the stubble coming through, and his pulse thudded under my fingers; maybe he wasn’t that calm after all. I leaned into him again, his eyelids flickered, and when our lips met this time he was more confident and I was more receptive, shifting into line with him. It wasn’t like the frantic way he’d kissed me at Regatta; he didn’t pin me down on the bed or pull me up to him. It wasn’t like anything I’d ever seen from Carter at all. The guitar slid onto the floor with a twang and I jumped like I’d been stung, but he didn’t let go of me.
‘It’s about you, all right?’ he said, his breath coming short. ‘The song. It’s about wanting something more with you, but feeling like I can’t shake your perception of me. I guess I don’t have your way with words. But that’s what it’s about.’ He brushed the hair back from my face. ‘I’m not good enough for you, I know that. And I know I hurt you at Regatta, but that’s not who I want to be.’
I breathed out slowly as everything locked into place. ‘And I guess when I said you could only write about a one-night stand, I just made it worse.’
He nodded. ‘I don’t want to be that person anymore, the guy who can’t have anything meaningful with anyone. I want to have something meaningful … with you.’