Rodin, Rotten, Jones & Us – Chapter 38 – By Holly Homan

Illustration by Christina Dominguez-Starling
Chapter Thirty-Eight

I was awakened the next morning by Keith’s kisses. “What time is it?” I moaned.

“It’s ten,” Keith replied, still kissing me

I sat up suddenly. “La vache! They stop serving free breakfast at eleven.”

“I’ll buy us breakfast after I find a bank,” Keith said, adding caresses to his kisses.

“We can’t spend the money.” I threw off the blankets and got out of bed.

“No!” Keith wailed. “I was counting on shagging you all morning. What’s a few quid for a late breakfast? We haven’t shagged in days. We finally have a day off and you refuse me twice.”

“There isn’t time,” I protested. “We have to eat and find an art store. You may have the day off, but I have to make enough to feed and lodge us.”

“You’re punishing me for Ryan’s indiscretions.”

“I have to cover my end. I’m not sleeping in that van.”

“Bloody hell! There’s plenty of time. Come back to bed.”

“There’s not plenty of time. You have sound check at three.”

Keith flopped back onto the bed. “Fuckin’ aye!”

Breakfast turned out to be only cereal, bananas and some toast.

“See, we would have been better off going out somewhere,” Keith pointed out. “This will barely sustain us.”

“Let’s just get to the bank so I can get more art supplies.”

After wandering about, we finally found a bank Keith could use. “I’ll take out two hundred quid,” he said. “That’s not much.”

I was shocked when I saw his account balance printed on the receipt he signed. “You have just over 250,000. How did you spend 300,000 quid in eighteen months?”

“I don’t know.” Keith had the unmitigated gall to sound annoyed. “There was paying two years’ rent, the recording sessions, the piano, your rings. It added up. Two hundred grand is enough to last a couple years even if I have to plunk down another year’s rent.”

“I might have to find a job sooner than I planned,” I said.

“You’re blowing this way out of proportion.”

“I am not!” I yelled as we left the bank. “The way you let money slip through your fingers scares me. When we’re home we’re working out a budget.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whatever.”

We got directions to the nearest art store. While there, Keith picked up a paintbrush, sticking it between his teeth. Paint my picture, darling.” He gave a naughty grin.

I snatched it away and placed it back.

“If you break something we’ll have to buy it.” I gathered some cards and a few other supplies and went to pay. Even with my student discount, it cost a lot.

“It’s a good thing I took out extra money,” Keith said. “That cost a bloody lot.”

I pretended I didn’t hear.

We left the store and Keith immediately lit a cigarette.

“You know, you didn’t need to tell that poor woman her store was too expensive!” “Hey, I spoke the truth. Your art supplies cost a bloody fortune.”

“And your guitars don’t? I have a hundred cards. That should last three or four days. That fifty quid will triple.”

Wanting anything but fish and chips, we decided on a Thai restaurant near the water. It seemed like a good idea until Keith realized there was no Guinness.

“It won’t kill you to wait. You have a personal stash now.”

“That doesn’t bloody help now does it?”

“All the more proof you’re an alcoholic,” I pointed out.

“I am not. I just like drinking beer when I eat.”

“We better head back to the university,” Keith said after about an hour.

I opted for staying at the hostel. I still had to change. “You better come back after sound check,” I warned. “I’m not hanging about if you’re drinking with your mates again.”

Keith simply rolled his eyes. He was doing that a lot lately.

He did return just over an hour later. “You’re dressed already? I was hoping for a quick one before we need to be back at the club,” he said.

“You know in France we call people like you chaud lapin. It means sex maniac.

Keith grinned. “Only for you. We haven’t shagged in ages.”

I kissed him. “Good things happen to those who wait.”

We explored the town a bit before going to the club.

When the band hit the stage they held nothing back. Keith and Billy again bounced around like electrically charged wires and the audience did the same.

“This next song is a new one I’m dedicating to Margaret fucking Thatcher!” He tore into the chords of a politically charged song called You’re not Listening. Billy switched to his stand-up and performed his acrobats, while Keith shouted “We ask for decent jobs shake but you’re not listening!” The audience moshed like The Piss Ants were the headliner.

I didn’t see how any band could top them. I retrieved the lock box, rushed back to the merchandise table, and was immediately inundated with customers. By the time the Piss Ants came out, I’d sold fifty tapes. I pointed out my postcards any time someone mentioned how gorgeous Keith was or how they thought Billy or Jimmy was soo cute. “Everything you buy we’ll autograph,” Keith announced. “We need petrol to reach our next gig.”

“Plus we’ll kiss all the birds who buy more than one item,” Billy piped up.

With that promise, a lot of the girls began buying up merchandise. At least Keith managed to limit it to a peck on the cheek though some girls tried for more

“Could I get my picture taken with you?” one girl asked Keith.

“One pound for a picture with one of us,” Jimmy jumped in. “Two pounds for all.”

“I only have one quid left,” she said morosely.

“That’s alright, luv.” Keith said. “Come here. Our manager can take a picture.”

Ryan looked less than enthusiastic as he took the camera and I’m sure I looked even less so watching Keith wrap an arm around her and give her a squeeze. A few other girls followed suit and another twenty pounds was raised.

The house lights dimmed, indicating the next band was about to play.

“Come watch the band with me,” Keith said.

“I should stay here in case someone comes,” I insisted.

“I’ll stay,” Ryan offered. “You go ahead.”

I wasn’t sure why Ryan was being nice, but took off before he changed his mind.

Keith grabbed my hand and dragged me to the dance floor

The band reminded me a little of The Beatles and The Kinks. They played for little over an hour including an encore of Waterloo Sunset.

“I better get back,” I said when they left the stage. “We may get more customers.

Keith relinquished me with a kiss. “I’ll join you shortly.” ]

Ryan seemed elated to be relieved of duty and disappeared into the crowd.

When the night ended, we made enough to pay myself back. I rushed backstage.

“Aah, the love of my life,” Keith bellowed as I entered. There was a strong smell of marijuana, but I couldn’t see anyone smoking. I didn’t see Ryan so I hung onto the lock box.

“The van’s mostly loaded, but I can’t convince anyone to leave,” Keith hoisted the bass drum off the floor. “What d’ya say we catch a taxi back?”

I followed him out to the van. “You don’t need to ask me twice.”

Ryan appeared and waited with us. At last, a room with its own bathroom – a luxury lately. I sat on the bed to remove my boots. Before I knew it, Keith pushed me onto my back and kissed me.

I giggled. “What are you doing?”

“I’ve been craving you for days. Why the fuck do you think I wanted to leave?”

I kissed him. “You must be desperate if you’re sacrificing partying with your mates. That’s so out of character.”

“Au contraire,” Keith protested, running his hands up my skirt. He peeled off my socks and kissed my toes, making me giggle again. I began unbuttoning his snug 501’s and peeling them off.

We wiggled out of our clothes and the long wait was more than worth it. I could barely think straight as I floated into oblivion. Keith kept going at up-tempo speed and I felt all the tension of the last couple days evaporate. This was nirvana. It was heaven. It was all the above. When we succumbed to exhaustion, it was nearly five.

Holly Homan

[To be continued… Click here to view all chapters.]