Set Me Free (16 page)

Craig
watched the band walk on to the stage with the swagger of boys who’d found
success before they were mature enough to respect it. I’m too old for this, he
thought.

The drummer
counted them in, and they released a torrent of three-chord pop-punk guitar
riffs that weren’t necessarily original, but rocked just the same. The
expanding mosh pit in front of the stage certainly seemed to think so. As did
Cassie, who started to bop on the spot beside him.

He was there
tonight as her handbag, and willingly so. He didn’t mind a pub band every now
and then. And it was nice to be out and distracted from work, and other things,
for once.

The club was dark,
the crowd was pumped, and he was happy to just be another regular punter. He’d
made a pact with Cassie that there’d be no stepping on each other’s toes
tonight, gently, subtly or otherwise. No need to stand by and defend each other
from unwelcome conversations. Tonight they were on their own.

As he watched the
stage, the steady stream of people making their way from the backstage area,
past the stack of amplifiers and down into the crowd, caught his eye. Even in
the darkness he recognised the evocative figure of Charlotte Evans, closely followed
by her sister Emily. He felt the pull immediately and brightened. For a
fleeting moment, the evening seemed to carry even more promise. Then he
recalled he was with his home-wrecking friend, and just whose home was the
latest to fall victim. Crap.

On top of that,
he’d been furious with her after the workshop last week. ‘Two, zip,’ she’d said
before she left, rubbing his face in it. Luckily, Mark was making headway with
the money men, so the sheen of her victory was about to wear off. Now
that
made him perk up.

Concealed by the
low lighting, Craig observed the sisters gravitate to the bar at the back of
the venue. He stole a glance at Cassie to see if she'd noticed, only to find
she was no longer beside him, but weaving her way through the mosh pit to the
very front of the stage.   

Craig ran his
hands through his hair. As he wondered which one she was aiming for, he
realised what was familiar about the lead guitarist. He turned back to the bar
and did a quick comparison. The resemblance was unmistakable. He had to be
their brother.

He bulldozed his
way through the crowd, grabbed Cassie by the arm and dragged her off to the
side of the stage.

‘What are you up
to?’ he asked.

‘What are you
talking about?’

‘Emily’s brother.’

‘Ohhh…I forgot
Emily’s brother was in this band. I wonder if she’s here.’

‘You don’t fool me
for a second, Cassie. Haven’t you done enough damage?’

‘Haven’t
I
done enough damage?  She’s the one who wrecked my relationship.’

‘Can you even hear
yourself?  Stay away from her, Cass. If you go anywhere near her tonight, I
will drag you out of here by your hair.’

‘I’d like to see
you try macho-man. Give it a rest, huh?  Let’s enjoy the band.’

Before he could
say anything more, Cassie pranced back into the midst of the fans crowding the
stage.

Three songs into
Reality Cheque’s set, Craig found he wasn’t concentrating on the band at all. The
furtive looks he was throwing back towards the bar were going to give him RSI. Charlotte
looked relaxed, and Emily appeared to be casually knocking back beers. Cassie
was still in the mosh pit. Perhaps a quiet word of warning wouldn’t go
unappreciated, he thought, making excuses for his lack of restraint. They had
some ice to break anyway, didn’t they?

Charlotte
stiffened alarmingly when she spotted him weaving through the crowd. He checked
his disappointment.

Emily looked up
curiously and gave him a weak, almost sympathetic smile. Then it fell, and she
scanned the crowd behind him.

‘Can I have a
quick word?’ he yelled into Charlotte’s ear, over the top of the music. Charlotte
stayed mute, but she didn’t seem to refuse him. He settled on the stool beside
her, ordered her a Pimm’s and himself a beer, and made sure Emily was out of
earshot.

‘I thought I
should warn you Cassie is in there,’ he said, pointing towards the stage. Charlotte
frantically searched the mosh pit. ‘Shit,’ was all she said when she located
her target.

Accepting the
drink he offered, she looked into it with a small frown, then back at him. ‘What
is she doing here?  What are you doing here?’

‘We came to see
the band. If it means anything, I had no idea you would be here. I realise now
your brother is on stage. If I had known he was in the band, I would have
talked her out of coming.’

‘She knew though,
didn’t she?’

He nodded and took
a swig of his beer. They were sitting close so they could talk over the music. The
jasmine drifting out of her hair was like a drug. He wanted to sniff her, but
that would be weird.

On stage, another
song came to an end. Charlotte moved quickly to capitalise on the opportunity
to converse without shrieking.

‘Keep her away
from my sister.’

Before he could
confirm he intended to do exactly that, a heavy slap on the back knocked him
into her. He turned to find Mark and his wife Clare, who both greeted him
enthusiastically and openly gave Charlotte the once over. Then to Clare’s left,
Craig spotted Lauren, his ex, staring at him in surprise. Her eyes narrowed
faintly as she took in Charlotte.

Craig stood up to
shield Charlotte from their scrutiny while he greeted them. He’d forgotten he’d
met Lauren through Clare. It shouldn’t have been a surprise to see her with
them, but after ten months, it was a surprise to see her at all.

Seemingly
satisfied Charlotte wasn’t his date after he turned his back on her without a
word, Lauren turned on the flirt.

Craig felt
Charlotte move away, and his centre of gravity went with her. He was pretty
sure she was affronted, but the last thing he wanted was to subject her to the
scrutiny of his friends and … acquaintances.

Nor did he need
anyone, including Mark, getting suspicious of his relationship with her.

‘You’re game,’
Mark observed, watching Charlotte vanish into the crowd, dragging her sister
after her.

‘Well, I could
hardly avoid her, could I?’ Craig asked, looking anywhere but behind himself.

As the gig rolled
on, he spent the night chatting to his colleague and his wife, trying to keep
his ex at arm’s length, and scrutinising every move of his oldest friend. He
was only half participating in the conversations around him. He’d much rather
be examining Charlotte’s moves, but she was nowhere to be seen.       

Towards the end of
the set, Mark and Clare went to the bar for their last drinks and Lauren moved
in to interrogate him.

‘It’s been a long
time, Craig,’ she said. ‘Are you still a workaholic?’

‘Nothing’s
changed, Lauren,’ he told her, impatiently.

‘Nothing at all?’
she teased.

Craig didn’t have
time for games tonight. He was having a hard enough time concentrating on what
she was saying, let alone trying to figure out what she wasn’t.

As Lauren touched
his arm to try and focus his attention, he ignored her entirely and scanned the
crowd once more for Charlotte. Miraculously she appeared, and his frustration
heightened. She was talking to her dance partner, the one who was apparently
her ex, at the other end of the bar. Irritated he’d spent the evening backed
into a corner, unable to hound the woman who was doing a damn fine job of
avoiding him, Craig wanted to walk over and punch said ex in the face.

Charlotte looked
utterly disinterested in whatever he was shouting in her ear. Good. He glanced
at the ex at his elbow and excused himself, cutting her off mid-sentence.

Emily thwarted
him, appearing out of nowhere to stop him in his tracks.

‘Did you bring
her?’ she asked, slurring her words a little.

‘No,’ he sighed. ‘She
brought me. I’m sorry. I didn’t know this was your brother’s band.’

Emily studied him.
‘Hmm,’ she said. ‘I don’t think you did. Deep inside, you’re a good guy really,
aren’t you?’

‘Nah,’ he said,
looking towards Charlotte. ‘Not really.’

Emily grinned at
him lopsidedly. There were glimpses of her sister in it, but it didn’t sizzle
him the way Charlotte’s sublime smile did. And that wasn’t just because Emily’s
was sad and kind of sloppy.

‘The band is just
about finished. Will you have a drink with me before I have to deal with your
friend?’ she asked.

He hesitated but
then conceded. He owed Emily a drink for being the arsehole that brought her
husband’s mistress to her brother’s gig. Besides, Charlotte would come looking
for her sister at the end of the night, wouldn’t she? 

‘Why not?' He
glanced over at Charlotte and caught her ex checking out her arse while she
watched the band. He faltered, and his fist clenched involuntarily.

Emily grasped his
arm and tugged him towards the bar. She sat him down on a stool and signalled
the bartender. ‘Two pints, please.’

They were well
into their second when Cassie snuck up on them, slipping her arm around Craig’s
shoulders.

‘Oh hello, Emily,’
she said. ‘What are you doing here?’

Emily spluttered
into her beer and Craig whacked her on the back to stop her from choking. She
looked at him.

‘Does she really
expect me to answer that?’ she asked.

Craig shrugged,
but not loosely. Oops. How did he let this happen?

‘Excuse me,’ said
Cassie. ‘I’m right here.’

‘Fuck off,
Cassette,’ said Charlotte, appearing out of nowhere.

Cassie huffed. ‘You
pair of rude, sanctimonious bitches. How dare you speak to me like that?’

‘How dare you
sleep with Emily’s husband?’ Charlotte retorted.

Emily was staring
at her beer. Her cheeks were flushed and her shoulders hunched.

‘C’mon, Cass,’
said Craig. ‘Let’s not do this, huh?  Remember what I said earlier?’

Cassie looked at
him scornfully. ‘Go for it then, macho-man.’

Craig stood up and
steered her away from the bar.

‘You really want
to do this?’ he asked, gripping a handful of her hair.

‘You wouldn’t
dare.' She batted his hand away. ‘Fine, I’ll leave. I’m hooking up with a guy
in the mosh pit anyway. You know, you ought to stop chasing that skirt. You’re
making a fool out of yourself.’

‘I’m not sure I
should be taking dating advice from you, Cass,’ he said.

‘Fuck you,’ she
said, though cordially. ‘I’ll see you later.’

At the bar, he
found Emily had emptied both their beers and replaced them with a line of shots.
Charlotte had drifted off again.

Now that Cassie
was gone, he could keep a better eye on her. He excused himself and used the
trip to the gents to case the club.

She was with Emily
when he returned.

‘No way,’ Emily
slurred, ‘I’m having fun.’

Charlotte’s hands
were on her hips. ‘Emily…,’ she began, her tone carrying a warning.

Emily was defiant.
‘No, Charlotte,’ she said firmly. ‘I am not coming. It’s barely even midnight.’

‘Yes, but…’

‘Stop mothering
me, Charlotte!' Emily snapped, drawing the attention of the punters around them.
‘I will go home when I am ready!’

Stunned, Charlotte
glared at her sister, anger and embarrassment clouding her eyes. Craig kept his
distance and watched warily.

‘Fine,’ Charlotte
said, through gritted teeth. ‘Andy has the spare keys so you can come home with
him.'

Passing Craig as
she stormed out of the club, she paused momentarily, threw him a steaming scowl
and then continued on without looking back.

He followed her on
the sly, to be sure she got a cab, and then went back inside to check on her
sister.

Several
hours later, Craig hoisted a limp Emily under his arm and knocked on
Charlotte’s front door. It was 3am and he wasn’t expecting a warm welcome, but
the lights were on, and that gave him some comfort.

Emily was sliding back
down his hip by the time Charlotte wrenched open her door. She looked ready to
explode. She was wearing a baby blue satin slip that was far too distracting
and her hair was wildly tussled, as though she'd recently woken up.

Or had been making
love. He’d seen her hair like that before. Given he’d seen her leave the club
alone, he guessed it was the former. Hoped desperately it was the former.

As she took stock
of who stood on her doorstep she paused, puzzled, until her attention turned to
the limp figure under Craig’s arm. And then she looked terrified.

‘What is it?’ she
demanded, snatching her sister off him. ‘What’s wrong with her?  Emily! Emily!'
Charlotte started to shake Emily before Craig laid a steadying hand on her arm.
‘I wouldn’t do that,’ he cautioned. ‘She’s drunk, Charlotte. Really drunk. You
might regret what you shake out of her.’