Knife Edge Boogie - Chapter 1

Vulcan Rock

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Alex rested his legs on the arm of the couch and leant back with his arms folded. The string of news items rolled along in the back of his mind, something about a missing person from Manchester apparently. He hadn't been to Manchester in months, he realised. Last time would have been that VIP party at Kierpop's. He grinned as the image of Lizzie Hunter drifting around like a restless fairy formed in his mind.

Lizzie of course, had never taken any of them seriously. Anyone with an acoustic guitar slung over their shoulders was just a face to her. Alex would have to call her up next time he was up North. Was that night the last time he'd seen her?

"Alex?"

Lizzie's high-heels dissolved and his eyes snapped open.

"Already?" Alex groaned. He swung his feet to the floor and pushed himself up.

"Sorry, mate." Matt shrugged. "I'd do it for you, but nobody wants to interview the drummer."

Matt held the Green Room door open and patted Alex on the shoulder as he passed.

"Hey, I had a thought," Alex said, just as Matt was about to close the door.

"First since 'Favourite Worst Nightmare'," said Matt.

"Fuck off." Alex shook his head. "I was thinking, fancy giving Lizzie Hunter a call when we go up to Leeds? If anyone's going to come out on a Sunday night, it's her."

Matt frowned and glanced round the door, though Alex hadn't had his eyes open enough in the room to know what he was looking at.

"Um... I really don't think that would work," Matt said, "Were you not just... Never mind. Go embarrass yourself. We can talk about this after."

Alex gave Matt the finger and turned to face the door at the end of the corridor. A woman opened it and peeked her head out. He raised a hand to wave but she'd already spotted him. Her foot was tapping, so he increased his pace until he was almost running.

"Ready?" she asked.

He nodded and she led him in, gesturing towards a couch for him to sit on.

"How are you today, Alex?" she asked, taking a seat on the opposite couch.

So tired, he thought, Please just let me go to sleep. I'll probably be ten times more interesting asleep than awake.

"I'm very good," he said, "Good to be back."

She tapped on her keyboard, setting his words of eternal wisdom into the records.

"How does it feel knowing the Arctic Monkeys will be headlining Reading and Leeds festival two years running?" Her fingers were poised above her keyboard, twitching.

Fucking terrifying. We're tempting fate. If there's a lightning storm on Saturday night, you know why.

He gazed at her fringe, yanked back tightly into her ponytail, and swallowed the words.

"It's very exciting," he replied. Then, when her fingers had finished stabbing the keys, and she looked straight into his eyes, he added, "And it's good to know that people's attention spans aren't too short to remember us."

The woman pushed her glasses up her nose. "You think people have short attention spans these days?"

Uh-oh. No, I don't think that at all. In fact, if Netflix is anything to go by, people are brilliant at devoting thirty-seven straight hours to one show.

"Yes I guess. But that's nothing to do with us. I mean, that's more to do with the speed of the times and all that. You know, the speed of the internet and how quickly information is available to children at a young age." The edge of his mouth tugged as he realised he was almost directly quoting an article he'd skimmed on the Guardian's online page.

"That's very interesting, Alex," she murmured.

Just say something interesting. Or that at least makes sense.

He didn't. Question after question was fired at him; answer after answer dribbled out his mouth.

Why should I be interesting when you're asking me the same things the Kerrang guys did this morning, except with less swearing?

"How do you feel about the disappearance of well-known groupie Elizabeth Hunter?"

Alex's neck cracked as his head jerked up.

"What?" he asked, before he could swallow it.

The journalist's hand flew to her mouth as it dropped open.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry," she whispered, "I thought you'd have heard."

He shifted on the couch but couldn't shake the feeling that at any moment the gap between the cushion and the back would open up, suck him down.

"Um," he murmured, "At this moment, I feel shocked, and as if I am about to throw up."

"We can move on if you like," she said.

"Whatever," he muttered, "I mean, yes please."

He took a deep breath and pictured the Main Stage in his mind, which elbowed Lizzie's long black, silky hair out of the way.

Her eyes glued themselves to her screeen and her finger scrolled down on the trackpad. She nodded to herself and looked up. "Okay, one last question. Which band are you most looking forward to seeing at Reading, whether it's seeing them perform or just hanging about and having lunch with them."

Picking a favourite spawns a swarm of enemies.

Alex frowned and ran his top teeth against his bottom teeth. "Twin Atlantic, I think. They all seem like pretty sound guys."

"Cheers, mate!"

Alex squeezed the arm of the couch and whirled around. The grin beamed at him from the doorway.

"Hello, Sam." Alex smiled and rose to his feet, gesturing for Sam to take his place.

Sam, who had been leaning against the door frame, swung round and bounced onto the couch. He tucked one of his legs up under him and tapped a rhythm on the couch's arm.

"Hiya, Alex. So, see how I'm such a sound guy, want to stick around?" Sam tugged at the edge of his jacket, and smiled when he finally got it unzipped.

Alex shook his head. "Sorry, I have to go rehearse. See you tomorrow, if our paths don't mysteriously cross sooner."

Sam fiddled with the zip, then smiled at Alex. "See you soon."

Alex nodded then ducked out of the room.

He let some assisstants guide him out of the building and accepted a to-go cup of tea as he left. Once on the street, he sipped the tea and started to walk up towards his hotel, where thirty-seven hours of 'Breaking Bad' eagerly awaited him. He texted Matt to say his throat was feeling a bit scratchy and did his best to ignore every newspaper stand he passed.

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"What do you think is the most important thing to remember if you're in a band?" she asked, leaning forward.

"Em..." Sam tapped the main line from 'Lightspeed' on his knee. "To not show off. I mean, that's pretty much what we were trying to do with our first album, in retrospect. But it's not like I'm not proud of it. It's still a thing we made and put a lot of effort into making. But now hopefully we've grown up or something. Not that I have all that much. Ross has. He has a beard."

Janice's fingers hesitated.

"I'm sorry that must have been the shittest answer you've heard all day. I didnae even answer you're question. Well, I did, but then I started rambling over it, like I'm doing now."

Sam pinched the skin of his thigh between thumb and index finger.

Stop bloody rambling.

"Okay..." Janice said, "What would you say is your best quality?"

Sam opened his mouth, then shut it. "Um...I'm not horrific at golf..."

She frowned and bit her lip but started to type.

"No, wait," Sam said, "I think I might be quite humble?"

"You don't say!" she exclaimed.

Sam let his eyes drift to the records lining the walls. His gaze caught a Springsteen cover and forced himself to focus.

"Really? I thought I was being quite arrogant -- to say I see myself as humble, that is," he said, "I mean, I am a pretty arrogant person. I'm the lead singer in a rock band for fuck's sake!"

Janice made a noise that sounded like the start of a sentence but didn't bother going any further. Sam fidgeted with a bottle top in his hoodie pocket.

"Who're you looking forward to seeing at Reading and Leeds?"

Sam chuckled. "Well, if I wasn't arrogant already, I will be by the time Alex Turner finishes hanging with us Sound Guys!"

Janice smiled and offered her hand to him. He shook it and stood, shrugging on his jacket in the same motion that lifted it from the back of the couch.

"Hey, um, that's me on my lunch break if you want to go get something to eat?" Janice asked, slipping on her own jacket.

"Afraid I've got to go meet Barry to straighten out a riff issue," said Sam. He held the door open for Janice and offered her some chewing gum as they wound around the studio's corridors and out into the pestering August breeze.

"You sure?" she asked, gesturing towards a cafe across the road.

"Aye," he murmured, "See you, Janice."

She smiled, nodded, and headed off towards the little world of scurrying waitors and flying plates.

He had to close his eyes to remember what way their rehearsal space was and sighed as he remembered Barry had had to cancel the session because ... um ... his sister had come down with his neice?

He glanced at the cafe and spotted Janice facing the bar, yelling her order over the siren of a screaming child. One step towards the cafe was all he could muster, before turning around and heading up the hill.

A girl passed him wearing a signed Artic Monkeys t-shirt, holding it tight so it wouldn't crease and smudge the ink. Wait, he could have sworn Alex was rehearsing at Melbridge. He glanced down the hill and squinted to make out the vague squat form of the studio.

Sam crossed to intercept the girl. "Excuse me?"

"Yes?" the girl asked, "Wait...Sam, right?"

Sam nodded. "See when Alex signed that t-shirt for you, was he heading down there?"

Sam pointed toward Melbridge.

"Um, no. He was going to his hotel, I think," the girl replied, "Why, are you stalking him?"

Sam chuckled. "No, but he may be avoiding me."

He made to continue up the hill but the girl called to him, "Can I get a selfie?"

He smiled. "Of course."

A few dodgy-angled shots later, Sam was setting back off toward his hotel. As he walked, hunger started to gnaw at his insides. He cast his gaze around for a pack of crisps, his eyes settling on a newsagents'.

When he opened the door, it nearly swung straight into Alex. He was leaning against the counter, staring at a paper.

"Hi, Alex," Sam greeted.

"Uh-huh," was the reply.

Sam bought a tub of Pringles, then turned to face Alex.

"You okay?" he asked. Alex's arms concealed the picture on the front page, and strands of his fringe fell over the headline.

Sam was pretty sure he knew what it said though.

"Did you know her well?" Sam asked.

Alex looked up. His eyes grabbed onto Sam's and his hands clenched around the paper. "Everyone did. You did. I did."

"That night was actually the only time we saw her," said Sam, "But I get the feeling she was a regular face to see around backstage areas. Pringle?"

Alex shook his head. He paid for the paper and rolled it up, jamming it into his pocket. He smiled weakly at Sam and trudged out the shop.

"You got any more of those?" Sam asked.

The newsagent raised an eyebrow at him and nodded. "We're a newsagents."

He handed Sam a copy of the same paper. Sam opened it on the counter and skimmed the article. He'd heard something about it on the news in the Green Room, but Alex's bandmate Matt hadn't said much about it.

Hunter's mother has revealed some of the contents of her daughter's computer. She appears to have searched the term 'Vulcan rock' multiple times on Google, but has not clicked on any of the results. Police encourage anyone who might know what this 'rock' refers to should come forward -- so far it is suspected to refer to a genre of fan-music on the subject of 'Star Trek', similar to 'Wizard rock' which is dedicated to the 'Harry Potter' series.

The Pringle he was chewing got caught in his throat has he choked.

"Oh my God." He turned to the newsagent. "Did you see which way Alex Turner went?"

"Up the hill, I think," he replied, "What are you--"

Sam slammed the door of the newsagent behind him as he burst onto the street. He glanced up, searching for the slick-backed hair and the sullen swagger of his friend. He couldn't see him anywhere, even when he had run all the way to the top of the hill.

"Alex!" he yelled.

"Sam?" the voice came from behind him, but it was unmistakeable.

"There you are." Sam panted, turning around. "I think I know where she is."