Deception (Michael Clifford)

Fourty Two

I look out of the window of the bus as it makes its way into town. Outside it is bright, a warm glow from the sun lances across my face. The bus leans around a corner just as the chorus for 'Dear Maria, Count Me In' starts, sending a couple of my pencils rolling across the seat. I look down at my sketchbook. 4 figures stand idly on the page. It was a scene from back in London, the guys standing in a loose circle. Ashton was giggling about something, Calum covering his face as he laughed whilst Luke just looked a little embarrassed. Standing incoherently at the back was Michael, the tiniest of smiles on his face. I've had the image in my head for weeks, but have waited until now to try and capture it. I pick up another pencil and keep working.

This is the first time since arriving in Sydney that I've left the ocean paradise. I feel a little refreshed, like the sea has somehow detoxed me. Living with Grandpa isn't at all that bad. In fact he has mostly left me alone, for which I am glad. Though I've eaten more fish in the last week or so than I think is healthy.
But reality came worming back in as it should, and a few days ago I got a call from a certain blond haired producer in Los Angeles, in regards to the band I would be working with once I returned. But with the call came the reminder of where I had been the last couple of months, and exactly who I haven't seen since returning to Australia. I suppress the niggling uneasiness and look out the window again, grey city buildings drifting past outside.

The band John wants me to meet with are currently staying in Sydney, and are prepared to meet with me at a studio in the city where they would be rehearsing. We wouldn't be writing, or working on anything, he just wants me to become comfortable with them. That's all the information he would give me. I'm not surprised with all the secrecy, but he hasn't even given me a name of someone to look for once I arrive. When I asked all he replied with was a chuckle and the words, 'have fun!'. I roll my eyes in exaggeration. I wonder what kind of band it will be, would they be young, only just starting out? Or older and more experienced? And if their not from Australia, what are they doing in Sydney?
I hope they're nice.

When the bus pulled into its station, I stuffed my drawing stuff into my bag and hopped off. The address John gave me is a supposed 15 minute walk from here. I look around at the busy street, tall cement buildings line the sidewalk, shadowing me from the sun, windows like eyes. I tug at the collar of my T-shirt as a car speeds past, kicking up grit. As much as cities are familiar to me, being in them still unsettles me. Setting off again for the studio, I begin to think about the others. The faces of Ashton, Calum, Luke, and Michael appearing in my mind. As the ebony haired boy floats in front of my vision I feel a small twitch of guilt, though I'm not sure why. Without realising I look down and notice I've opened his contact, his name sitting expectantly on my screen. I stare at it. The last time I saw him, we were in a narrow aisle on an aeroplane, his eyes dark behind a stray piece of hair, hand brushing against my cheek. Even now I get a shiver down my spine, but the guilt is replaced with frustration, and the vision of him vanishes like smoke. He hasn't called since we've been back. Or otherwise bothered to stay in contact. I feel slightly disappointed, maybe I was wrong to believe that he would. Maybe I should have tried to find him at the airport, or called him...
No.
If he wants to talk to me, he would have by now, on his own terms. That's how everything is with him. I lock my phone and slide it decidedly into my pocket.

I stand in front of the building that John told me to head to, and frown. Its a tall building, white stone, clean, no different to the identical lots pressed against it. No where in sight is there anything that resembles a studio or a rehearsal space. In fact, the street ahead is lined with sweetly smelling coffee shops and pâtisseries, people laughing and milling around in the cool of the shade cast by the buildings. I frown and stroll amongst them, trying to blend in.
The clink of spoons against china and hum from the baristas drifts around me, its only when I squint through the sun and see a donut cafe up ahead, that I let out a sigh.
I stroll towards it and push open the doors.