No Way Back (a Taylor Hawkins fan fiction)

Chapter 18 - 4am

Gen blinked and rolled onto her back. Sleep was refusing to provide her the relief she so desired and the dim city lights seemed to taunt her troubled mind. She rolled her head to the side, observing the clock on the nightstand. 4:00am and no sign of Taylor. She picked up her phone.

She had tried calling Taylor 4 times. No answer. The last she'd heard from him had been a text at 1:30 when he'd begged her to come back out. Attached, had been a selfie of him and Kate Moss holding shots of brown liquor, Jamie Hince photobombing in the background. She felt guilty and a bit stupid, but couldn't muster the energy to put makeup back on her face despite the good time she was clearly missing out on.

Gen exhaled. She knew she shouldn't be worried or upset, but she couldn't seem to shake the nagging thoughts. She slipped her legs out from under the covers and over the edge of the bed, setting her feet down on the rug beneath. She looked at her phone again. Nothing. Where was he? It wasn't uncommon for people to stay out until 4 or later in London, but to not respond to her calls or text messages? Kate had messaged her back at 2:30 saying she and Dave had just gotten back to their suite and the last they saw Taylor he was still at W.

"Where are you, Taylor?" She whispered aloud in the quiet room.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand and her heart leapt, then dropped just as quickly when she saw the number on the screen. It wasn't Taylor.

She swiped her index finger across the screen without picking the phone up.

–Vieve, I'm so sorry. Can we please talk while you're in town?

She cursed under her breath and stood up, crossing the room quickly and throwing on some jeans and Taylor's hoodie. She needed a cigarette and to clear her head. She grabbed her clutch and snatched her phone from the table.

The lobby was still buzzing, and so was everyone in it by the look of things. Gen scanned the large space hopefully but failed to spot any sign of Taylor or the others. She weaved through the crowded lobby, welcoming the smell of cigarettes in the courtyard air as she stepped outside. She scanned the outdoor space for familiar faces with no luck. Her worry was slowly beginning to give way to anger as she pulled a cigarette and a lighter from her clutch.

She opened the messages on her phone, Serge's question still sitting at the top, the most recent in her list of digital correspondence. She hit the phone icon and dialed Taylor again, wondering how much these calls were costing her in international roaming charges as another one rang unanswered in her ear.

"Hey, it's Tay. You know what to do!" Taylor's cheerful voicemail was no longer cute.

"It's me again," she began, venom seeping into her voice. "It's 4:30 in the morning and I don't know if you're dead or alive or... alone. So...fuck."

She hung up. Alone. That one had tumbled out of her mouth involuntarily but it stung on the way out and in it's wake left a sick, heavy feeling in her gut. She took a drag of her cigarette watching the smoke she exhaled swirl in the darkness in front of her.

A few drunken characters were scattered around, smoking and being louder than would normally be tolerated on any other night, but this being an official NME venue, security weren't doing much to stop the celebrations. Gen sat unnoticed, her casual clothing out of place amidst the leather, sequins and creased suits that surrounded her.

Taking another drag from her Marlboro, her mind drifted back in time, settling in a cosy memory of her first trip to London.

Sergio hadn't been able to pick her up from Heathrow but she didn't mind. She was thrilled to be in London and despite her excitement to be in his arms again, she was eager to explore the city with or without him at least for a short while. After collecting her bag from the luggage carousel she searched the signs for that famous red and blue bullseye that would lead her to the London Underground. Finding it quickly, she followed the crowds of people to the entrance, stopping to purchase an Oyster card and grab a map of the system which she scanned in awe as she stood on the platform. Compared to the much simpler transit systems she'd been on in Chicago and Los Angeles, the Tube map resembled a bowl of multicoloured spaghetti, it's lines zigging and zagging and crossing each other, connecting at stops that made her heart flutter as she read them. Piccadilly Circus, Tower Hill, Westminster. She couldn't believe she was actually here. She stepped on the train, managing to snag a seat, pulling her suitcase close to her as the car filled with tired commuters and excited tourists. She marvelled at the small things, the accent of the voice announcing each stop, the advertisements for Sainsbury's and Barclays behind the seats across from her, the over-the-top outfits on the fearless goth couple a few seats over. As the train surfaced and daylight flooded it's interior, she looked out across the rooftops of row houses outside the window as they zipped by and felt a warmth spread outward from her chest making it's way to her toes and fingertips. It felt like home and she almost dared to imagine what life would be like if she were here as more than just a visitor.

Gen stubbed out her cigarette and stood. Her phone remained silent, the blank screen taunting her. She stood, wrapping the sweatshirt around her tightly and headed back towards the doors to the hotel lobby. Before she could grab the handle the door flew open, almost hitting her as it did; through it emerged a tipsy, teetering Noel Fielding.

"VIEVEEEE!" he cried, his white cowboy hat, decorated with rhinestone stars, narrowly missing her face as he flung his arms around her neck. She stumbled backwards as he released her, the laugh about to escape her lips cut short as she saw the unmistakable silhouette of Sergio coming through the door behind him.