Save a Prayer (4 page)

G
raham

I took a deep breath, desperate to get every word of this right. Being honest with Angie wasn’t scary. It was knowing that I could lay everything out on the table and she still might not want to be with me.
Just come out with it already
. "The thing is, the last ten months have been the best of my life, but they've also been the worst. The band has achieved things I never thought we could. So few bands get to do what we've done. I still can't really fathom it. And as much as I've grown even closer to the guys, I've realized just how empty I feel. Something has been missing. You."

Angie looked up at me, wide-eyed and a bit sad. "I'm not really sure what to say. I've been through a lot, too. And I'm not going to apologize for breaking up with you. It was the right thing for me to do. So I'm sorry if it made you unhappy, but everything changed that night."

I nodded, accepting each word I deserved. "It was my fault. It was all my fault. I know that. And I'll tell you I'm sorry for a lifetime if I have to." My voice faltered, raw emotion bubbling up out of me.
Bloody hell.
Keep it together.
Good God, it was hard to get past the lump in my throat, knowing that I'd hurt her so much, that if I lost the thing in my life that meant the most, it would be my own doing. "I want you, Angie. I don't want anyone else. It took me ten months to sort that out, but I knew it all along. At least in here I did." I thumped my fist against my chest, right where my heart was threatening to hammer its way out. "If I can have you back, I won’t make the same mistakes again. I’ll never let you walk away."

She closed her eyes and shook her head as if she was rattling my words from her mind. "I don't think you realize what you're saying. It’s not that simple. Or easy."

“But it
is
that simple. We belong together.” The fact that she couldn’t see that made my stomach bind up in knots, but I had to make my case and I didn’t want to make it complicated. Everything else was complicated. Angie and I didn’t need to be.

She became impossibly still, taking in a deep breath then opening her eyes. “I just spent the last ten months convinced that we don’t belong together. That’s why I’m saying it’s not that simple.”

"It's fate that you got this job taking pictures of the band. I know it is. And just so you know, I had plans to show up on your doorstep the instant I got back to England. You just put me out of my misery a week earlier than I'd planned. I think we belong together, we should be together." I scanned her face and my mind kept going, adding up what I'd said.
We belong together. Forever.
I hadn't quite made it this far in my thinking before. The thoughts that had been running round in my head for the last months sounded so different when said out loud. I didn't want to let her go. Ever. "Every couple has their test and this was ours and now it's over. I think we should pick out a ring. I think we should talk about a future."

She blinked so many times I wondered if she had something in her eye. "A ring? Are you suggesting marriage? Were you planning this all along?" Complete disbelief crossed her face.

I might've made too big a leap there, but it felt right. The future had seemed a mystery without her. Now that I’d finally woken up to the possibilities, I could see it. Us. Together. A big beautiful flat in the thick of it in London. Coming home to the most incredible girl I’d ever met after being on the road. Better yet, that incredible girl to come with me. "Well, no, I didn't plan it, but it makes sense. You can't deny that."

"So we're just worried about logic now? That's it? Nothing else?"

I took her hand, afraid she might run off. There was something wonky in her voice, something that said she was panicked.
Just talk her through it. She’ll see.
"If you think about it, this probably would've been happening by now anyway. We'd been together for two years when we broke up. And you know that we were great together. I just needed to get my head straight."

She blew out a breath. "Uh, yeah. I had to do the same thing, and I was trying to help my mum deal with my dad's stroke for half of that time. I know what you mean about getting your head straight, but you and I arrived at completely different conclusions."

I loosened my grip on her, unable to understand why I couldn’t get through to her. She was normally such a logical person, measured and predictable, even. That was part of what I loved about her—she helped me stay on solid ground. Why wasn’t reason working? "Do you really not love me anymore? Because I love you, Ang. More than I've ever loved a soul on this earth."

"It's not a matter of love. I will always love you. I don't know that I could ever stop loving you. But our lives are completely incompatible now. And don't forget that they're that way largely because you followed your dreams with reckless abandon."

"Isn't that part of what you love about me? Didn’t you always say that you loved the way I go for it? Damn the torpedoes and all of that?"

She laughed quietly, but there was an unmistakable edge of exasperation. "It is definitely what I love about you. It's all of the other stuff that's a disaster."

"Like what?"

"Take your pick. The endless touring. The inability to go anywhere without being mobbed. And let's not forget the girls."

"I can't do anything about the first two, but the last one won't be an issue. I've gotten it out of my system. Completely."

Her vision narrowed on my face. "What did it take to get it out of your system, Graham? How many girls are we talking about?"

Bugger.
I'd walked right into that one. "You don't really want to know the answer to that, do you? And I didn't exactly keep track."

She sat back and folded her arms across her stomach. "I guess I don't really want to know."

"The important thing is that you were always on my mind. Always. You can ask Chris if you want. He'll tell you I was talking about you all the time."

An unflattering snort popped out of her, oddly adorable coming from Angie. "You don't really expect me to believe that, do you? It's not like you called me. It's not like you wrote me any letters. I show up in Philadelphia for my job and suddenly we're talking about fate bringing us back together? Let's be honest, if you'd really wanted me back, you would’ve done something about it. You just said it yourself. You're a damn the torpedoes kind of guy. You didn't damn a single torpedo for me."

Now I could see why logic and reason wasn’t working. There was still part of her that was right pissed with me, and it had nothing to do with other girls.
She’s mad I didn’t go after her.
"Ang, think about what you’re saying. Would you have actually read a letter from me? Would you have stayed on the phone with me? Because I didn't think you’d do either of those things."

A frown fell across her lips. "No. I guess not."

"See? I had to do this in person. You know, where you wouldn't be able to avoid my sparkling personality." I probably shouldn't have said that last bit, nor should I have bounced my eyebrows at her like I did, but it prompted a smile out of her. At least the mood was lightened.

She glanced at her Swatch. "Graham, I love you, but this is crazy. Let's just get back to the band's trailer so I can get back to work."

"Hold on. Can I have one thing? For spilling my guts only to be told that I'm a nutter?"

"What?" She cast a distrustful look at me, knocking her head to the side.

A soft breeze blew through, ruffling the canopy of leaves above us. "One kiss. That's all I want. You can tell me to sod off forever, but I'll feel a lot better about it if I can have one kiss."

She sucked in a deep breath—a sure sign that she was thinking. There’d been a time when she wouldn’t have turned down a kiss from me if her life depended on it. Now she had to think. "One kiss. And if I kiss you, you have to stop being a wanker about my job. I'm not only being paid to take pictures, it's my career. Your job is important to you, mine is important to me." The fire was back in her eyes, the one thing I had no defense for. She didn’t often allow that to so noticeably rise above her even nature.

"I promise." I leaned in and kissed her. At first, her mouth was merely a place for mine to land, but it only took an instant before she was kissing me back. Her lips were even more plump and giving than I'd remembered, the flicks of her tongue so delicate as I parted my lips, her smell even sweeter this close. Sweet memories of kissing Angie swirled with the hot reality of the present. It engulfed me with anticipation and longing. That was familiar response. It also left me with the undeniable conclusion that I was home when I kissed Angie.
God I missed this. I missed her.

I cupped the side of her face with my hand, sweeping my thumb across her velvety cheek, desperately wanting her to press into me. She gripped my arm, pulling herself closer. The lower half of my body tightened in response, blood racing, reminding me exactly what she did to me. Another few seconds and I’d really lose all sense of time and place. Being wound up before a show was a good thing, but that was going to make it impossible to think, let alone perform. I had no choice, but to slow things down.

I wrenched my lips from hers. It hurt like absolute hell to do it.

Angie looked down at the ground and smoothed her hair, collecting herself. "Right then. There's your kiss."

Did she not feel the earth move, too?
I rarely had a bruised ego, but I’d hoped for more positive feedback. Maybe a conversation about wonderful it had been. I would’ve been much happier with, “Oh, Graham, that was lovely. I’ve missed you so much.”

"Did you like it?” I asked. “It seemed like you did."

"It was nice, all right? Kissing you is always nice. Now let's go find Reggie so I can ask him where he thinks I should watch your set. You can get to your rock star duties, whatever those might be." She stood and brushed dirt and grass from the back of her short red dress. The way the sun filtered through her hair was like light through a prism. Why did every last thing about her have to be so beautiful? How could she make the world stop spinning with a single kiss?

She started back and I had to rush to catch up to her. It was clear her mind was on work and not on that kiss, or me, or the fact that I'd essentially asked her to marry me. Had the kiss only been nice? She'd seemed like the old Angie when we’d kissed, as passionate as I'd remembered, but perhaps she'd been putting on her own sort of show, all to get me to back off.

We strolled back to the Banks trailer and climbed the stairs inside. The guys were all sitting around, Chris playing guitar, Terence playing cards with Reggie. Nigel was talking to one of our techs about why he'd been unable to hunt down the bass strings he preferred. Angie loaded her camera with a new roll of film and went to work. On the surface, everything was just fine. Inside, I was dying a slow death, and I couldn't let on. Not only did it seem unlikely that Angie and I would get back together, she didn't seem the slightest bit upset by the prospect.

A
ngie

After several unfortunately dull hours backstage, during which I berated myself for kissing Graham, Reggie showed me to my place to watch the Banks set, up on the stage but off to the side in the wings. "You have everything you need, dear?"

I nodded. "I do."

"Good. Graham asked about you. He wanted to make sure you were okay. I'm not sure what you two talked about earlier, but it seems to be weighing on him. I hope everything is good between you two. Just tell me if he's being a prat and I'll get Chris to deal with him."

"No. It's fine. We're fine. Just a long overdue conversation."
And an almost-sorta proposal of marriage. And a kiss that I really wish I could forget.

It was honestly the most bizarre talk I'd ever had with Graham and we'd been known to talk about some weird things. Maybe it was because it was the last thing I'd expected would happen during this trip. I'd spent the time since I got this assignment practicing what I would say if Graham had a new girlfriend or female companion. I'd just assumed that he would. It hadn't occurred to me that he might still care. Was he just lonely? Tired after months of touring? Perhaps he was at sixes and sevens, made crazy by months of being on the road.
I thought about you every day.
That seemed like a line. The only trouble was that Graham was not the sort of guy to deliver a line.

Bloody hell. Why in the world did I kiss him?
I'd known it was stupid as soon as I agreed to it, but I was too tempted by his lips, and the fact that we'd been alone.

At least I finally had a moment to gather myself. Granted it was in close proximity to thousands of Banks Forest fans, but I'd take what I could get. I had credentials for the photographer's pit in front of the stage, but Chris and Graham had begged me not to take pictures from down there. It was too dangerous, they'd said. Security would be busy pulling fans out of the crowd, sometimes administering first aid. It remained to be seen whether it would become mayhem, but from the looks of the restless masses, chaos not only seemed possible, it seemed likely.

By all accounts, Swash and Buckle had done a good job warming up the crowd, although I'd only seen the last song of their set. Ridley winked at me when he walked off stage and saw me, and was sure to say that he planned to find me later in the evening. I'd told him not to bother, but yeah…Ridley wasn't good at following instructions.

As the sun started to fade and the anticipation for Banks Forest grew by the minute, the fans pressed ahead, doing anything they could to get closer to the stage. The thick wooden barricade separating them from the stage bowed and even made a few loud cracks, threatening to break. Security guards stood behind it, begging people to move back, cooling them off with water from spray bottles. It didn't seem to help much.

A recording of the instrumental version of
Living In Infamy
started over the loudspeakers, very quietly at first, almost imperceptible, except that I'd always be able to pick out that song after only a few notes. Christopher's winding and eerie guitar line was enough to give me goose bumps. I'd been there the day he and Graham had written that song—at the bachelor flat, in the lounge. I'd taken a few pictures that day, a portent of things to come.

I stepped around to the other side of the soundboard to get a better view of the crowd. I crouched down and got some great pictures of sweaty giddy girls, exactly the sort of thing my dad would've caught. It would remain to be seen whether the final photographic product would be any good, but for now, I was pleased. As the music became louder, announcing the impending arrival of Banks Forest, the crowd grew fitful. Girls raised banners made from bedsheets into the air, clusters of fans jumped up and down, people pushed harder against the front barricade, and then there was the screaming. Always the screaming.

Terence was the first one out and the crowd exploded with cheers. In artfully ripped up black jeans and a black T-shirt, he ambled back behind his kit and thumped the bass drum several times. Nigel came next in red leather pants and a flowing white shirt, waving to the masses and cuing a peal of screams as he picked up his bass. I was waiting for the other two when there was a hand at my elbow.
Graham.
He smiled and leaned closer to my ear, his breath warming my skin. "Don't get so wrapped up in taking pictures that you don't listen closely, okay?"

"Yeah. Of course."

"Good. It's important." He smiled, kissed my cheek, and joined Chris so they could walk out on the stage together.

As if I wouldn't pay attention. Of course I was going to listen closely. I wasn't about to miss a single minute of this.

The electricity in the air made it difficult to stand still. It was as if everyone was about to burst. That had to mean all hell would break loose as soon as they started to play. I might have seen this band hundreds of times, and it had always been exciting, but I'd never seen them like this. Never before this many people, never with this kind of anticipation. Graham was looking a little too spectacular in a pair of high-waisted black pants and a white T-shirt with the arms cut off. Graham had always been in great shape, but his biceps were more defined and his chest more built than the last time since I’d seen him. Perhaps he’d been lifting weights on off days or it was just from hours of intense performing every night. I’d never thought of myself as a girl who cared at all about muscles, but on Graham, they were dead sexy.

He stepped to the microphone and yet another wave of crowd noise came rushing at us. It was thrilling and overwhelming at the same time.

Christopher looked down at the floor as he silently tuned his shiny black guitar. Another of his girl-killing smiles spread across his face when Graham spoke.

"Is everybody ready for a party?" Ever the showman, he solicited a reply with a dramatic sweep of his arms.

The audience roared back at him.
Yes!

Oh, they were ready.

"That won't bloody do," Graham said, always wanting more of everything. He plucked the microphone from the stand and traipsed to the very front of the stage. A flurry of arms and hands waved below him. He feigned a serious look. I could tell he was trying not to smile, not wanting his face to betray how much he loved every minute in the spotlight. "I want to really hear you this time. Are you ready for a party?"

The crowd was not about to let Graham down. They thundered back at him in near-perfect unison.
Yes!

"Right then. That's more like it. Let's do this." He turned and in an instant, the drum intro to
What Do I Say?
started.

The only thing that kept me calm, let alone able to breathe, was the fact that there were so many amazing moments to capture on film. The camera kept my field of vision narrow and occupied. I caught Graham and Chris singing into the same microphone, smiling at each other like the lifelong friends they were. I snapped shots of Terence effortlessly twirling his drumsticks, never missing a beat, then pounding the crap out of those drums. Nigel was a different guy on stage, a fact I'd forgotten until I watched him through the lens. He was a really good looking guy, but the sex-appeal just gushed out of him when he was performing. Judging by the dozen of girls with their eyes glued to him, I wasn't the only one who thought so. Chris, of course, had a ridiculous amount of female attention, including from one girl who was holding up a pair of pink knickers from her spot in the front-row.

And then there was Graham. It would be nearly impossible to put into words what he was like now. He'd always been confident on stage, but this was a different universe. He was bloody invincible. I was sure he could've lifted a car over his head or made the crowd float in mid-air if he'd wanted to. Everything about him on stage was that magical. He was a jubilant kid, jumping about, belting out his clever lyrics, dancing and spinning as if he'd never stop. He managed to mesmerize an entire army of girls. They gazed at him in utter adoration, as if he were a god to be worshipped. Oddly enough, in a setting where the girl fans were unavoidable, I didn’t feel my usual pangs of jealousy. It was easy to feel pretty damned special standing where I was.

After about ten songs, the stage lights dimmed. The sun was nearly set now, cooling off the night air slightly, although it was still warm and sticky. "We're going to play a very special song next. It's a new one and we haven't played it for anyone yet, so this will be the world premiere. I hope that's okay with all of you."

An ear-splitting noise rang out from the crowd.

"Sounds like they'd like to hear it," Christopher quipped into the mic.

"Wonderful. You see, this song is about a dear friend of the band and a girl who's very special to me, Ms. Angie Dawson."

My heart stopped in my chest. There were a few lines of Banks Forest lyrics about me, but an entire song?
It’s new? How new?
I watched as Graham paced on the stage, looking down at the floor. My pulse sprang back to life, but it was even more frantic than it had been when the band hard first started playing. I would’ve paid anything to know what Graham was about to sing.

"She's known us for a long time and well, let's just say that she's seen all of us at our best and our worst. Especially me. I hope you like it. This song is called
A Lifetime
."

The music started and I couldn't have been any more swept away if I'd tried. They'd never recorded many proper ballads, but this one absolutely was, a song to slow dance to and hold on to a guy and just melt into him, never let him go. Graham had been that guy. Was he meant to be again? The song was airy and dreamy, painting the most beautiful picture of sand and sea and breezes, of missing someone so much you feel like you want to die. Was that how he’d felt when we were apart? The lyrics seemed to suggest he did. I couldn't catch every word, but there were unmistakable strings that became imprinted on my brain as soon as I heard them. The one that really got to me was…
I'd wait a lifetime for you to bring me home.
I felt the heartache in every syllable and it made me fully realize just how much he’d been hurting while we were apart.

Hundreds of people in the audience held their lighters high, swaying back and forth, the flames twinkling like stars on a cloudless night. Graham belted out his unbelievably beautiful song in spectacular fashion, lit from above by a blue spotlight, the black evening sky behind him. It was hard to believe that he'd ever wanted me, just a regular girl from Stourbridge. He was meant for so much in this world. Was I meant to be part of that? I wanted to think I was, at that moment when everything felt oddly perfect even though so much was undecided. Everything I'd worked so hard on while we were apart was starting to feel like time and effort wasted.

The band played three more songs, then took their final bows at ten o'clock, the festival's curfew. Sweaty and worn out, but clearly jubilant, all four guys walked up to me on their way off the stage—Terence smiled and patted me on the shoulder. Nigel gave me a quick hug. Chris winked at me.

Graham was last, wiping the perspiration from his forehead with a white towel. "I'd give you a kiss on the cheek if I wasn't so sweaty."

"It was so amazing." I struggled to find more words, flat-out dumbstruck by the epic declaration of love. The set. The song. "Graham. I can't even believe the song. It's so beautiful. I loved it."

He smiled, his eyes warm and sweet, making me want to collapse against his very sweaty chest. "That's all that matters." Roadies began moving equipment around us, making it clear that we were in the way. "Come on, Ang. Let's go catch up with the rest of the guys." Graham took my hand and it felt differently than it had a few short hours ago. It felt right.