They walked on in silence for another minute or two then Jake called the kids back, telling them to run for home.
“Trying to wear them out,” he said with a wink as Jesse ran between them spraying sand everywhere. “That kid’s going to be awesome at track when he’s older.”
“He sure is,” laughed Garrett. “Jake, can I make a suggestion? Set up the memorial show. Play all Rich’s favourite songs to play live. Invite a few guest musicians along. Have fun. Celebrate his life then sit down as a band and talk about the future.”
“Maybe you’re right,” sighed Jake, scuffing his barefoot in the sand in frustration.
As the white fence in front of the beach house came into sight, Garrett said, “Jake, can I confide in you? And this goes no further.”
Jake nodded.
“When Royal Court came to an end, I almost never played again. I played piano mainly with Andrew. We ended the band because I couldn’t cope with his drug habit. He became too unpredictable latterly. Dangerous. Manic one minute. Suicidal the next. Live shows became a minefield. Our fans thought it was part of the act. It wasn’t.” Garrett paused, “The last show we played, I came out on stage for the encore. Sat at the piano. Played my heart out then as we reached the last chorus of the song, Andrew broke a string. He flipped. Slammed the lid down on the piano. Broke both my hands. I never touched a piano for the best part of twenty years after that. In fact, it was the lovely Ellen Lloyd and my nephew who convinced me to play again about five or six years ago.” He paused again. “The fact is, we ended Royal Court with no closure for the fans. Andrew died a couple of years later. There was nothing for the fans. Very little mention in the media about his death. It was kept quiet at the request of his family. The fans got nothing. No last goodbye. No memorial. Not even a post humus greatest hits record. I still feel we…well, I… let them down. I regret it. Your Silver Lakers put you where you are today. They’ve been with you guys for years and they’re hurting too. You owe it to them to give something back. If you don’t, you’ll regret it.”
“When you put it like that….” began Jake falteringly. “Lucy said the fan page has been swamped with messages of condolence. I thought the video we put out and the interview I gave were enough. Maybe they’re not.”
“Trust me, they’re not,” said the older man wisely. “Set up the show. You can thank me later.”
“Ok. I’ll talk to the guys and Jethro and Maddison. We’ll give the fans their chance to say goodbye,” relented Jake, knowing in his heavy heart that it was the right decision.
After Garrett left, Jake sat out on the deck in the dark on his own. He’d messaged Grey and Paul asking them to come over on Friday morning. Both of them had replied almost instantly; both of them sounded keen to talk about the way forward. When he checked the calendar on his phone, Jake realised that there were only five weeks till the band were due in JJL to start the next Silver Lake record. He’d been full of good intentions to write over the summer but, so far, he had nothing apart from one new melody line that he’d been playing with since the day after they heard about Rich.
“Penny for them,” said Lori softly as she came to stand behind him.
“They’re not worth it,” he replied as he gently pulled her round to sit on his lap.
“How did it go with Debbie earlier?”
“Lord, that seems like a lifetime ago,” sighed Jake. “It was fine. She’s a sweet girl. I dodged a few questions. Everyone wants to talk about when we’re going to play again.”
“Folk just want their chance to empathise with you guys and pay their respects.”
“I know. Grey and Paul are coming over on Friday. We’ll thrash it all out then.”
Changing the subject, Lori commented, “Miss M is still super excited at having played for Garrett today. How did that all come about?”
“To be honest, I’ve no idea,” confessed Jake, trying not to laugh. “I left her in the lounge with an apple juice, went to talk to Jim about the workshop sessions and came back and found her in the live room playing one of Garrett’s guitars. He’s delighted with her.”
“Our own little Miss Rockstar,” giggled Lori as she rested her head on his shoulder.
“Yeah, but let’s keep her as a little girl for as long as we can,” commented Jake. “No child prodigies. She’s a kid who plays a bit of guitar. That’s all. A regular little kid. Plus, she’s a whole lot more to learn.
“I agree entirely.”
Drawing his wife close, Jake cupped Lori’s breast in his hand and began to slowly fondle it. He smiled when he realised that she wasn’t wearing a bra. With everything that had happened recently, he felt he hadn’t paid Lori nearly enough attention. With a sigh, he drank in the aroma of her favourite perfume. Slowly, he moved to kiss her. As he raised his lips towards hers, Jake discovered that she’d read his mind and they met halfway. Their kiss was slow and deep, both of them refamiliarizing themselves with the other with a renewed passion.
“I want to make love to you, li’l lady,” murmured Jake as he ran his tongue teasingly down her slender neck and into the curves of her cleavage.
“I can tell,” giggled Lori, wholly aware of his erect dick straining at his jeans.
Without waiting for her consent, Jake began to raise her strappy vest top over her head. Freed from the
