A Cuban Girl's Guide to Tea and Tomorrow - Laura Taylor Namey Page 0,32
I’d bet the shop on it. See, there’s a London indie band—actually, a front man and his bass player and drummer, as well as their entourage. They spend a lot of time in Winchester. Too much time, as far as anyone’s concerned. They’re always trying to score something rare and interesting at Farley’s. And more often, creating a ruckus in the pubs, getting into brawls and disturbances most everywhere they go. They’re our age, give or take, and complete wankers.”
My brow arches. “But the graffiti?”
Orion motions us into an easy stroll. “My fellow shop owners and I have no concrete proof it’s them. But more than enough reason to suspect. The graffiti’s been happening now for about a year. Each time, they tag a symbol straight out of their song lyrics. Not from titles, that’s too obvious. But one of their jams has the line, ‘throw me into infinity.’ We’ve also seen arrows, crowns… all key images found in their songs. Again, we can’t do anything because no one’s been able to catch them in the act.”
I feel my forehead crease. “You’d think a gigging band would have better things to do with their time than pester Winchester.”
“Our little Hampshire city has one thing the front man, Roth Evans, wants very much. More than rare vinyl at Farley’s.” He looks right at me. “Jules.”
“Remy must have a few or ten things to say about that.”
Orion gestures aimlessly. “Oh, he does, but not like you think. I told you Jules was talented, but that’s an understatement. Not only a brilliant songwriter; Jules is an extraordinary vocalist. Like future record deal, name in lights good.”
“Wow.” I’m smiling, inside and out. I already liked Jules. “So, this Roth wants Jules to join his group?”
“Obsessively so. He’s been trying to woo her away from Goldline, her band.” We move through a greenbelt park; illustrated signs point the way to the cathedral. “Especially since he edged his way into singing with her once. I’m afraid that’s Flora’s doing.”
I almost trip over my own feet. “Flora?”
He sighs. “Last year, Roth’s whole posse was shopping at Farley’s. Flora got into it with them about some stupid music trivia matter. A bet was made, for actual money, of which Flora has little.”
I shake my head. “She lost the bet.”
“She did at that. And Roth stepped right into a goldmine, rather a Goldline. He told Flora they’d be settled up if she could convince Jules to sing one song with him at Win-Fest.” When my face scrunches, he adds, “We have a huge street festival here every October. Roth was performing and he wanted Jules for the other half of a duet. You should’ve seen the crowd.”
“So this actually happened?”
“Yeah, because Jules loves Flora enough to perform with Goldline’s biggest rival to save her arse. Jules reluctantly agreed and it’s still a source of drama within Goldline.” He nods slowly. “Roth and Jules did an unplugged version of ‘Blackbird.’ My God, I hate admitting it was absolutely stunning.”
My heart clenches—Stefanie is a huge Paul McCartney fan. Whenever I drove us around Miami, she’d insist on playing his Spotify station.
Orion brings up a web browser on his phone. “This is Roth, short for Maximillian Evans Rothschild III. No one who values their limbs calls him that to his face.”
My insides flinch for another reason. “Wait, let me see that again.” I take the phone. “I was at Farley’s the other day and saw this guy with Flora. It looked like a heated conversation, but they left together.”
Orion swears under his breath. “You’d think she’d learn to ignore this lot, but my sister’s impressionable. And Roth’s bass player, Fitz, has a brother who does tech and promo for them. He’s into Flora. So far he’s just nosing around, but if it comes to more I’m going to have issues with that. After what Jules sacrificed for her, it’s just shit. Plus, he’s nineteen and she’s barely fifteen. I don’t like it one bit.”
I look Orion over, his face weighted and weary from more than running. “You want to watch her every second, huh?”
“More like enough seconds to matter. But it’s like trying to keep track of a bumblebee,” he says wryly, and I think of Pilar trying to manage me all these years. Protecting, guiding, giving me hell when I stepped out of line. More often than not, it was me returning all that hell, doubled, and keeping her in line right back. Miami floods my mind and heart. I miss