Worlds Apart

Chapter Two

Although I’d never admit it to anyone – and I mean anyone – I was nervous.

That was it. My nerves were clogging my throat and my knees were wiggly. It was odd if I was being truthful.

With Red Riot, I rarely got nervous. In fact, I could probably count the amount of times I got nervous on my fingers.

Of course, the first time was when I auditioned for the band since I knew none of the people in it. Then there was the first practice after they’d let me in, they’d seemed so much older and cooler to me back then, college kids while I was still in the midst of high school. After that it was just the first gigs we used to play when no one liked or cared about us.

I never got nervous when I played live anymore, whether it was in clubs, theatres or stadiums. Maybe I’d felt a titch of butterflies when we’d sold out Wembley, but only on the first night and even then it had been more excitement than anything else. I’d come to a conclusion when people had started showing up to our gigs and actually listening to what we were doing, and it was that they wanted to hear nothing but us. Even if they were incredibly critical – which loads of them were – they were still there for us, and there’s no one else on the planet better at being Red Riot than us four.

It was just a fact.

Yes, it was always pure excitement then, because I knew what I was expecting, I suppose. Even if we had a horrible set there were the four of us to depend on. It’s the absolute best feeling in the world when there’s a stadium full of people screaming your name, the tension in the air tangible and you walk out on stage and just open your arms wide, welcoming the cheers and chaos.

This was different though. I was completely alone on this; solo. The word appeared all the more daunting the more I thought about it. What had I been thinking? I was about to go on a television show with Joshua Harding, who, on the best of days, was quite the conceited ass who adored the idea of trying to knock anyone who appeared on his show off their game. And I was to announce that during the hiatus of Red Riot, I was going to disappear into the desert to record a solo album.

That wasn’t the worst part, oh no, the worst part was that I was performing.

And that left me here in my dressing room, ignoring my typically pathetic rider items of two bottles of water and a can of cider, practicing the guitar for the cover song I’d chosen straight through. The moment I’d finished the song, I’d start right over again. My fingers were beginning to throb.

It wasn’t like I even had the right to feel nervous! I’d sound checked with the studio band, and the three of us together had sounded quite good in fact. I never did sound checks for things like this. What was I coming to?

The problem was that I was on my own. I’d never been in another band but Red Riot; I’d been just a little kid when I’d joined. Sure, I’d done interviews on my own and played our songs all the time, not to mention did appearances with another musicians and so forth, but this was just completely different.

This wasn’t going to be an interview with the lead singer of Red Riot. This was an interview with the newly solo artist Jude Turner.

Oh, hell, what had I gotten myself into?

With the thoughts racing through my head, my hand stumbled over the chord in the middle of the progression.

Drawing in a sharp breath through my nostrils, I closed my eyes as I took my hands away from the guitar and flexed them, halting my continuous pacing of the dressing room. You’re Jude fucking Turner, I told myself sternly in my head as I paced my practiced path trying to give myself a pep-talk, and you need to get control of yourself and grow a pair already, you’re behaving like a child.