Roisin said the word “amazing” a lot. So far I was just about managing to smile at her through gritted teeth.
She was a pretty young thing who fancied herself as a singer/songwriter and had that obscene belief that everything would be just fine because she was a nice person. And she was a nice person. But nice didn’t get the creative juices flowing and she was here to get a grand total of three songs done in three days as she was struggling to live up to the songwriter part.
“I listened to what you’ve got so far yesterday.” I’d spent the rest of the evening after walking away from Sophie listening to the nine songs Roisin had already recorded. They were decent, upbeat melodies that focused on the world as a whole and saving it, or a bit of girl power. They were also not what her record label wanted.
She’d had a hit with a song she’d apparently recorded in her bedroom and like most things, it’d gone viral. A label had signed her up and her next two songs had followed. They were gritty and full of hurt, which generally sold well because people wanted to know who she was singing about. A couple of papped pictures with someone who looked like a singer from a band that was a wannabe of mine, and she was tabloid gold.
The only problem: what she had written wasn’t going to get her anywhere near gold.
“What do you think? It’s the sort of stuff I’m desperate to get out there, you know, stuff that really contains a message.” She beamed at me.
I stared at my coffee that was strong and hot and about to be drank even though I’d probably end up with third degree burns in my throat. We were sitting in the lounge that overlooked the lagoon and the day was beautiful. At least it was outside.
“It won’t sell.”
She didn’t lose her smile.
“I think it’s really now. Current. It’ll appeal to people my age who just want to, you know, save this amazing planet.” Her eyes became infinitely bigger.
I felt like a brute who was about to kick someone’s puppy.
“Roisin, your label has said you can have a couple of those songs on your album, but they want something like your first three tracks. Something with a bit of bite.” I stopped looking at her as a mass of blonde hair flew past the window; a mass of blonde hair that was wearing a bikini that did things to my brain. Bad things. Things I didn’t want it to.
“Fuck.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you swear.” A slender hand grabbed my thigh.
The mass of blonde hair, also known as Sophie, or pain in my fucking arse, stared back at me.
My eyes stayed fixed to her bikini top.
I may have drooled.
Roisin’s hand stayed glued to my thigh.
Sophie’s eyes filled with something that made me glad there was a pane of glass between us.
My dick shrivelled.
“I wasn’t swearing at you.” I pulled my gaze away, my brain hovering between images of being murdered and Sophie’s tits. The tits were winning.
“Oh.”
I moved her hand, something I should’ve done about twenty seconds ago when it first landed there. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-six.”
Fuck. I was sure she was about to say nineteen.
“That’s good. Gives you some experiences to use. Have you ever been in a bad relationship? A guy fucked you over?”
She looked blankly at me. “I had to end it with my boyfriend after I signed the deal. It was one of the stipulations in my contract. My dad refused to sign me if I was still with Graham.”
Okay. This shit just got deeper. Dad. Graham. Refusal. Twenty-six. None of this was adding up.
I pushed my hand through my hair and watched as Sophie talked to Seph. They were sat next to each other on the edge of the lagoon, the steam coming off it shrouding them.
I was irritated. Which was probably a good time to write some angsty lyrics, only I wasn’t a self-centred arsehole like I was ten years ago. I actually wanted to make a decent go of being the go-to person for song writing and Roisin Welsh was the star everyone was itching to work with.
