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naughty-teddy-innit · 6 years

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Rehabilitation : Chap. 1 An Ed Sheeran Fanfiction

Title: Rehab: Chapter 1

Author: @naughty-teddy-innit

Rating: PG- No smuts for a while, but intense content?

Click here for: INTRO

CHAPTER 1

I craned my neck, to the left slowly, and then to the right. “Mmmmmmm...” I mumble-moaned, trying to loosen and stretch my stiff muscles. For once, I was at the tail end of day shift. My normal hours would often take me through the night into the wee hours of the morning, but today I found myself battling piles of precariously stacked charts right into the dinner hour, and I was feeling it. It was one of those days where I felt it necessary to knock on wood, a catch-up day we often called it, because so far, no crazy emergencies had come in. No crashes or outbreaks, no crying parents or injured children or mass tragedies. Days like this were always a welcome relief, and exactly why I could currently be found hunched over a mountain of paperwork, rather than running around like the proverbial chicken with its head cut off. Having said all that, it was becoming super obvious that food was going to be necessary in very short order. And coffee. DEFINITELY coffee.

“Leesie, love…?”

“Hmm??” I spun my chair around at the soft voice behind me, and smiled at the friendly face it belonged to. Gray-haired, big brown eyes, and grandmotherly curves, Brenda had many, many years on me in this hospital. She and I worked together often, and she was often a motherly figure to us young ones, honest to a fault with a heart of gold, and we loved her for it.

“Hey lady, what’s up?” I stood, and turned my back to the desk, shooting her a warm smile. Welcoming the chance to move my body, I stretched my arms over my head, and leaned my hip back against the curved surface.

“Well, Sweetheart…” She paused. “I was hoping I could ask you a favour?” She cocked her head to the side, and I recognized THAT hopeful look.

“When do I ever say no to you, Mama B?” I shook my head and crossed my arms with a grin, and waited for what I knew was coming.

“I’m supposed to cover a couple of shifts up in ICU this week, tomorrow bright and early, and Saturday graveyard.” She hesitated, and with that I knew exactly where I’d be found those two days.

“Operative words being Supposed to?” I raised an eyebrow, and huffed a laugh at the knowing smirk that crossed her face.

“You know me too well!” She chuckled, and shifted her weight. “You know my Hannah’s been having a tough time now she’s at the end of this baby business, and her doctor wants bring her in for an induction tomorrow afternoon. High blood pressure and the whole nine yards. I had next week off anyway, her due date! But I need to be there for her tomorrow. I can tell ya, Nana is NOT missing this!”

“Oh!!” I couldn’t control the grin that spread across my face! She’d been waiting for this moment for months and months. “B, I got it. Go be with your baby AND your grandbaby. Do not even worry.”

“As usual, you are the BEST, Leesie. THANK YOU. Next time you need a cover, I’m at your mercy. I’ll let Mary know to update the roster!” She reached over and squeezed my hand, and I squeezed back with a firm hand and a grin. I was just glad to help out.

Even it did mean a 5 am start. Sigh.

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Despite the unconscionable hour that I’d been forced to set my alarm for, I actually preferred the early morning hours to the late or overnight shifts. Something about a brand-new day, a fresh new slate waiting to be written upon. It always put in a ready-to-go state of mind, and today was no different.

Intensive care was a whole different ball game from Emergency. There was not nearly the chaos that came through the revolving door downstairs, but the lives we cared for still hung in the balance. ICU was where you found the patients who were not yet stable enough to move anywhere else, who needed continuous monitoring, and who were either recovering from emergency surgery or might need to be rushed to surgery, in an instant. Visitors were restricted, and the continuous beep and wail of monitors and alarms were routine. You could feel the gravity of our unit the moment you walked through the swinging doors, I was rather proud of the fact that I was able to keep my calm and do my job well when a patient’s status deteriorated.

Walking in, I ran through my mental checklist, readying myself for the day. The “Day-Board”, also known as the giant whiteboard on the wall behind our central desk, listed our current patients. Names and Chart/Unit numbers, status, room numbers, and the doctor on duty, were kept meticulously updated on this board, for the benefit of the nurses, the doctors and anyone else involved in ICU care. There was a similar board downstairs in the ER, to track our patients in a similar fashion, and no matter where I was or what area I was working in, scanning that board was ALWAYS my first order of the day (or night!).

I checked in with the clerk finishing up from the night before, and greeted the nurses on duty before signing into my workstation. My eyes swept the board as I settled into my workstation; a middle-aged dad waiting for a bypass after a massive heart attack and a little one in bad shape after a nasty fall. A young girl, only 16, had suffered a nasty anaphylactic reaction, and an elderly woman in bad shape after a stroke. Finally, I noticed, 2 of the bus crash victims from the ER. I exhaled softly, seeing their names. I was beyond relieved they were still with us. After the scene only 48 hours prior, when they were brought in…I wasn’t sure whether they would be.

“Annaliese?”

I whirled around at the sound of my name, cheerfully greeting one of the nurses at the desk.

“What can I do for you?”

“If you could grab the order sheets from the charts, and get them all entered, that would be terrific. Dr. Collins has them all updated and ready to go, and Lord only knows, when Dr. Hendry comes on shift, everything BETTER be at his fingertips.” A sigh and smile and she continued. “You know how he is. Save yourself the trouble! Let’s see…Alison, Dr. Hamoudi, is the surgeon on-call tonight, and the Resident is on rounds, he’ll be back for shift change later. Hendry’s on call for everything else. Page him if necessary, he’s on the board.” She paused. “…I think that’s it?”

Goody. Dr. Hendry was nobody’s favourite. His ego was known far and wide as massively overinflated and a gigantic pain in everyone’s ass. Lucky for him, and for his patients, his saving grace was that he was a damn good doctor.

“Got it and I’ll get right on the paperwork. Thanks Amy!”

“Have a great day Annaliese, thanks again for covering!”

We both heard the direct line to the OR go off, and while she dashed off to answer the call, I headed off to discreetly gather my paperwork. Charts hung on the front of each ICU bed, and order sheets were always clipped to the front, making them easy and quick for us to find without disturbing the patients. I smiled warmly and gently at family members sitting with their loved ones, softly explaining why I was there, and apologizing for my intrusion. I could see the fear and anxiety etched on their faces, and I tried be as warm and reassuring as I possibly could.

I had gathered all but one, and the last bed was in a corner by itself. The patient in the bed, he was still unconscious, and the usual monitors and wires and tubes crisscrossed his body. He was intubated, a tube down his throat that helped him to breathe, and when my eyes caught the beautiful, fiery orange hue of his hair against the paleness of his skin and sheets, I remembered him immediately. The boy from the bus crash.

I didn’t figure he was as young as he looked, ashen and still against the sheets, but I couldn’t help the thought that he looked like a small boy all on his own like that. Even the sweet sprinkle of freckles across his cheeks, his delicate eyelashes…such innocence. I so hoped he’d be okay. I cocked my head and paused for a brief moment, the thought crossing my mind that I’d not seen any family? Where in the world were they? I shook my head softly, making a note to check into that when I got back to the desk. I very quietly gathered the paperwork I needed, my eyes sweeping over him one last time, taking in the vivid colours on his arms, and rise and fall of his chest. I really hoped he’d be alr-…

“Then find me someone who CAN help me. PLEASE.”

What in the world?? I did a double take at the sudden intrusion of a deep, aggravated, British brogue emanating from around the corner, presumably at the front desk in the front of the unit. Whoever it was, he was NOT happy.

The last thing I wanted was any of our patients or their families to be disturbed. I strode quickly around the corner, and saw one of our Care Aides standing at the desk, intimidation etched across her face at the gentleman facing her from the other side of the nurses’ station.

She looked MORE than relieved to see my face, this sort of situation was not generally a part of their job description; transporting supplies and medications, assisting patients, maybe, but dealing with distraught families or patients not so much.

“Sir?” I said softly, calmly. “How can I help you?”

He appeared to be middle-aged; thinning gray hair, scruffy-jawed and a round middle. His arm was fully casted, and in a sling, and he appeared to have some stitches along hairline, crossing his forehead. The thing that struck me the most through, the thing that somehow always caught me when dealing with someone in this sort of situation, was his eyes. This was a man who hadn’t slept in ages. He was obviously agitated, frustrated, exhausted…. but mainly? He was scared. I could see the stress and panic in his eyes, and I had no doubt there was likely a damn good reason for his outburst.

“My name is Stuart. Stuart Camp.” He exhaled, and then rubbed his eyes with his good hand, tiredly. “I feel like I’ve explained this 3 bloody times since last night, but we’ll try it again. There was a godawful crash, a bus crash, about 36 hours ago, and a young man was brought in. Edward, 26 years old. I need to see him, I need to know he’s okay. I’ve not had a wink of damn sleep and I’m just…knackered. I…. Jesus Christ. I just need to see him. Please.”

The rules in Intensive Care generally dictated that only immediate family be allowed in to visit a patient, and usually only 1 at a time. SOMETIMES, 2. I had a feeling though…

“Are you a family member, sir? A parent? Our rules are quite strict in intensive care, we usually only-“

He cut me off. “I’m not…not really, anyway. His mum and his dad, they’re from across the pond, in England, they’re not here yet.” He stopped to catch his breath, a weathered hand rubbing at the graying scruff that covered his jawline. “They should be touching down shortly. The airports, Jesus. You’d think they’d get their heads out of their asses considering- Never mind.” He steadied himself and continued. “They’re in a right state, Imogen especially, and they’ve been told VIRTUALLY nothing. He’s alone back there. He’s not even got cousins or aunts or anyone here. Please….”

I could see the anxiety and desperation in his widened eyes, and I really, truly wanted nothing more than to help, but…

“Mr. Camp, I can only begin to imagine how awful this must be for you, I’m so sorry. You’re not a family member, you said…?” I paused, hoping to glean some more information. “Can I ask how you know the patient? I’m afraid our confidentiality policies make it impossible for me to give out any information, if you’re not family?”

“It’s rather complicated…” He trailed off. “We’ve…worked together for 8 years. I’m his manager.” He rubbed his eyes, shaking his head slightly as he fought to make his point. “Whether or not you’ve recognized him, I don’t know; right now, I’m trusting that you follow your own confidentiality policies. He’s one of the best-known singer-songwriters in the world right now. I’ve been with him from the beginning, and he IS family to me. His family is my family, in every way. I am not asking you to release any medical records or information on his health, I am simply asking to just…sit with him. Just let me watch over him until his family arrives. I can’t stand the thought of him back there alone. Please?”

Truthfully, I hadn’t really recognized the boy from the crash at all. His lovely orange hair had struck me as familiar, but I wasn’t much for social media, and most of the music I listened to was what played on the radio at whatever desk I was working at. Regardless of who he was, though, I’d never have violated his privacy.

I was still a bit fuzzy on the particulars, but I what I wasn’t fuzzy on? Was how much this gentleman obviously cared for the red headed boy in the back. I wanted to help, I truly did.

I took a deep breath. “Let me speak to the nurse, Mr. Camp. I can’t make any promises, but I’ll see what I can do.” I smiled at him, trying to put as reassurance and warmth into the gesture as I could, and motioned toward the set of seats by the automatic entrance doors. “Why don’t you have a seat for a moment, and I’ll be right back.”

He nodded tiredly, and managed a small but grateful smile. “Thank you, Love. I appreciate it.”

He was still sitting there when I returned about 10 minutes later; hunched over, elbows resting on his knees with his head buried in his hands.

“Mr. Camp?” I said softly, catching his gaze as I approached. He sat bolt upright with widened eyes, obviously waiting for me to say something. “I spoke to the nurse, and she in turn checked with the Resident on call, and while we CANNOT under any circumstances release any information on his health or medical status…” I took a deep breath, allowing a small smile to play across my features at the sight of him jumping out of his chair. “We’ll allow you into the unit to be with him until his family arrives.”

I could see his whole body sag as he exhaled, and his whole head tipped forward, chin to chest for just a brief moment as he steadied himself. “Thank you.” His voice rumbled deep, the emotion evident. “Thank you, thank you very, very much. His Mum and Dad are due to land after lunch; I’ve just had a text with their flight update. You have my word I won’t interfere once they’re here.” He huffed a dry laugh. “Hell, I won’t interfere NOW.”

“I’m glad we could help, Mr. Camp, I really am. I’ll bring you back if you’re ready, but…you might want to prepare yourself.” I took a deep breath, and stared him in the eyes, purposefully keeping my voice calm and soft. “I meant it when I said that we can’t give you any information in regards to his status or injuries until his next of kin arrives. But…he is in rough shape. You need to know that.”

His eyes had been focused on me until I’d finished that last sentence, and then I could see him almost get lost in whatever was tossing and turning in his head.

“He should have been in the back of the bus. He’s a damned night owl, couldn’t sleep after the show…I was passed out on the couch in the back, and he was messin’ around with his guitar in the front. He…” His voice trailed off, almost breaking as he gathered himself. I tilted my head and bit my lip, listening to him, letting him get this out. How terrifying it must have been. My heart hurt so badly for him. “He was right where the bloody truck hit. The sound of those ruddy loud brakes screeching woke me up, that fucking truck, smashed right into the side of the bus. Right where he was. Right where Michael was driving. He always loves sitting up front on the late-night drives, keepin’ Mikey company. He should have been in BED.” He squeezed his eyes shut just for a fleeting moment, and sucked in a deep breath, like he was trying to shore himself up. He straightened up, looking me in the eye once more. “Please excuse this old man’s incoherent, exhausted ramblings; the last 36 hours have been HELL. But he’s here. How, I don’t know, but he is, and he’s not going to be alone while he recovers from this. Doesn’t matter what he looks like right now, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Well then, let me bring you to him.” I smiled softly, struck by the vehemence in his words, and the fierce determination in his eyes. I took a deep breath and gestured for him to follow me. “It sounds like he’s very lucky to have someone like you in his corner, Mr. Camp. I’m really glad you’re okay, by the way.”

“Thank you. I know it could have been so much worse.” He looked down at my badge for just a moment, and then back up. “Annaliese, is it? Please just call me Stu. I appreciate your help and kindness more than you know.” His voice was calmer, and filled with genuine gratitude. “Now where can I find him?”

“Bed 8.” I smiled. “And you’re very welcome. Follow me.”

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AUTHOR’S NOTE: I hope you guys don’t mind the slow build and set up, but trust me, I have SO many ideas and plans simmering in my head. Hope you love it, and I’m BEGGING you for any and all feedback, replies, Asks, Anons, etc......Us writers THRIVE on it. Xoxoxoxoxo

#Ed Sheeran #Ed Sheeran Fanfic #Ed sheeran fanfiction #Ed sheeran story #fanfic #fanfiction #Code Ginger #Teddy Sheeran #Teddy sheeran fanfic #Teddy Sheeran fanfiction #NO smuts yet #Poor Stu :(#Ed and Annaliese

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transcending-chaos · 7 years

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And he’s done! Biographical information under the cut due to length.

Name: Blayne Collins

-His un-Americanized name is actually Blaine O'Cuilleains, but as a majority of people cannot read and pronounce it correctly in Gaelic, he uses the Anglican form

-His username is TwinRavens, and his usual Tribe of choice is OverWorld as those were the cards given to him by his friends since they used a mix of the other three Tribes

Age: 16-19

-In keeping with the show’s style, he is ambiguously a teenager. His birthday is July 28, and he is a Leo.

Sex, Gender, Orientation: Male, male, asexual-panoromantic

-Blayne is fickle when it comes to romance: while he is easy-going and has no problem in revealing his own interest in someone else, he is quick to pick up on any advances made on him and immediately raises his guard. People have tried to take advantage of him before, so he is skeptical and often mistrusting of individuals trying to seduce, flirt, or be coy with him. He is not prone to feeling any real attraction to people at all, often just slowly falling in love with someone’s personality over a long span of time regardless of their gender or sex; he has no visual bias, so he is an even judge of character in this aspect, though voice will influence his opinion somewhat. Blayne does not lower his walls easily in this aspect, if one wishes to woo him, they must actually care about his personhood as he will sniff out any false pretense rather quickly. He’s blind, not stupid.

Biography (abbreviated version)

-Blayne is rather sanguine and friendly, an ENFJ personality type, and someone who loves to reach out and connect with other people. This forwardness often breaks the ice for him, as many people assume him to be quiet and passive due to his disability. It’s also led to one of his favorite greetings and gimmicks:

”Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you were blind!”

”Actually, my name is Blayne, but yeah, I’m also blind.”

His friendly nature had been a bit of a saving grace outwardly; he can laugh things off easily, he especially loves shitty puns, he’ll poke fun at his problems, and he tends to let things slide off of his shoulders well -at least that’s his norm. Blayne can only let things go on for so long, and while he is often proactive and civil in dealing with his problems, any provoked conflict will be dealt with severely. He does not like being angry as he’s been made aware that he can be terrifying, but so help him if it doesn’t put issues to rest when it needs to.

Another thing that is not readily recognizable is his patience when dealing with other’s repeated problems. Blayne understands hardships, he’s aware that everyone’s issues and struggles are relative yet relevant-

”It’s cancer and kidney stones; both are real, both are painful but both are really different in terms of what’s at stake and who could potentially suffer more. Even so, someone’s cancer doesn’t override the fact that you might have kidney stones -your pain is still real. And that said, your kidney stones aren’t going to be the same as their cancer. Everything is relative, everyone has shit to deal with, and everyone just needs to have someone listen every once in a while.”

-but he can only take so much of other people’s issues before he starts getting annoyed. This is a hard position for him to be in, as he naturally attracts people and has a calming, authoritative presence, so many trust and open up to him. It’s difficult for him to carry their emotional weight along with all of his own, as well as still functioning at the normative level of ability that society demands. Basically, he needs to set the rules and affirm that he is not Atlas, but this is complicated by the fact that many do not know that they are even being a problem in the first place. He can be easily overwhelmed by their problems and ignore his own, which can lead to a destructive spiral.

The final key piece of his personality is his stubborn attitude when people repeatedly point something out to him, specifically his weight or appearance. Blayne is underweight, and is actually recovering from an eating disorder spawned from his desire to not feel like a burden. He hates how people will take care of simple things for him, or take away his autonomy without realizing it. This in turn has created a deep sense of guilt and fear regarding asking for help or aid, and this will manifest in things like him not asking for food even when hungry. He will pursue food on his own, but as soon as someone mentions this, points out his appearance, or makes a comment, he looses all appetite and just tolerates hunger instead. It’s taken him a while to try and move past this, and although he’s gotten a little bit better, he still has a long way to go.

-Blayne is the single child born to his mother and father, who promptly split up when he was about three years old. He has always lived with his mom and predominantly knows her side of the family, which is across the Atlantic Ocean in Kilkenny, Ireland, where they raise sheep. His mother is a nurse in a nearby hospital and is usually busy, however, Blayne has strong familial ties and a loving home. Any antagonism comes from his father’s side of the family, who dislikes that his mother got sole custody, and disagrees with many of his mother’s family’s values in general. They’re not too friendly due to past circumstances concerning his parent’s divorce, but that hasn’t stopped some of that side of his family from reaching out in a friendly way; his cousin Connor moved in when Blayne was about 12, and the two were like brother before he graduated from his university and moved out on his own.

He follows a mix of Wiccan and Neo-Druidic beliefs, and loves folklore and fantasy; he often listens to audiobooks to pass the time when bored, connecting with the characters based on their empathetic qualities and mindset rather than a majority of description.

Schooling has never been too much of a challenge for Blayne, and while he was a little lonely throughout his elementary and middle school years, his high school experience has been quite pleasant. He attends an arts school where he is active in the music program. He can play the piano, the harp (a family tradition), and can sing very well (click here for voice claim). He has a tight group of friends (Macy, Ash, Ethen, and Sam) who all specialize in different studies of art as well. He often collaborates or aids in their pursuits, which has led to him being the guinea pig for many of Macy’s makeup exploits- he really doesn’t mind though.

His friends Ash and Ethan are the ones who got him interested in Chaotic, as they’d often just play the cards casually when the three boys would just hang out and Blayne would bullshit a commentary on their matches. Eventually they were determined teach him how to play and make the game accessible to him; this was ultimately reached by using small, different nail art stickers and tiny gems on the backs of his card protector sleeves. By making and memorizing a system, and also spelling out names in Braille, he can tell what card is in his hand. It took him a while, but Blayne eventually mastered it. His friends never expected him to play competitively, only giving him the ‘scraps’ of their card hauls, but Blayne is mostly a tactician and once familiar with the abilities and powers at his disposal, he can create a plethora of plans.

He is not well-versed in the physical Chaotic.

Blayne lost his first match, and many wondered if he’d just stop coming, yet his stubborn side kicked in and he stuck around. He does not take the typical kind of Scan Quests, instead, he often goes to villages and just sits down to take it all in. He is not hostile to any natives, and because he does not make problems, they are friendly in turn. Instead of Scanning Creatures with better stats, Blayne chooses to Scan those with a strong familiarity with their environments. As he cannot see even in Chaotic (if the offer was given to him, he’d still reject it as he would have to re-learn how to function, and it wouldn’t be fair to his other self that’d permanently be blind) neither do the Creatures he turns into during a match. He relies heavily on their senses of direction and elemental connection to the Locations, and as such, he is not a brawler or usual kind of fighter.

He loves traps. He likes using the playing field to his advantage, catching his opponents off guard, and ending the battle as quickly as possible. Usually the longer a match goes on, the less the chance of him winning. If his traps don’t immediately take someone out, his second favorite method is Coding by hanging, in which he manages to get them tangled and hung by either vines or other means.

This has earned him the unofficial nickname of “Blind Gallows”.

Trivia

-Blayne was originally made as a pun on the fact that Tom’s name means twin. I wanted to make a joke character that’d occasionally get mixed up with him, but this lil’ guy took on a life of his own and is now a fully fledged OC instead

-He has a swear jar at home, but manages his tongue better around peers. When angered, his slight brogue becomes more pronounced

-Blayne refuses to use Tribal leaders in his decks as he thinks their stats are ‘bat-shit broken’

-As he was born blind, he doesn’t understand color at all, so when people ask ‘do you see all light, or is everything dark’ he doesn’t understand what they’re getting at completely

-His go to Creature is Owis, and the two have met in person and became fast friends

-Some Creatures think he’s a witch, something he occasionally exploits for comedic effect

-He is a good story teller

-He has many sheepskin blankets at home as he has a tendency to get cold easily

-He loves soft fabrics and texture in general. He can sometimes be a little hands-y with close friends because he likes to try and figure out what they’re wearing. If you wear things like cable sweaters regularly, he will try and trace he cable patterns

-He is strangely adept at braiding hair except for his own

And that’s all I’ve got off the top of my head. If you have any questions, feel free to share because I will happily answer them. I will add more to this as needed, but I hope this give you an idea of who he is.

#chaos speaks #art #i guess this is my oc tag

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gigsoupmusic · 5 years

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EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW - DANIEL MEADE TAKES GIGSOUP THROUGH NEW ALBUM 'RUST'

Acclaimed and prolific Glasgow singer-songwriter Daniel Meade is back with Rust, a brand-new album of timeless and richly varied Americana. Rust highlights Meade’s confident command of classic country songwriting, bar-room rock n’roll and folk introspection - all delivered for the first time in his earthy Scottish brogue. The new album follows BBC Radio support from Bob Harris, Ricky Ross and Roddy Hart and widespread press acclaim for his previous releases, and you can hear the echoes of some of the greats (Gram Parsons, Neil Young, Bob Dylan) in the bones of these finely-crafted new songs. We sat down with Daniel as he talked us through each track on the new record, which you can hear on Spotify below now... https://open.spotify.com/album/0y3pJUsEytlZnwpFr1ME4v?si=xiuSW2ViRoqrBoBYx_ioWg Anywhy AnyWhere AnyHow Started out as a bit of a tongue-in-cheek look at the current Country/Americana scene, turned out a little more accurate than anticipated! Intentionally stripped back & simple, it has my favourite opening line on any one of my albums. These Things Happen Wrote this en route home after a tour opening for The Proclaimers, so their influence lies heavy here. A look at the mess of Brexit/current politics in this country, defeatist and defiant in equal measure.. “Hope/faith has gone but I don’t care, these things happen”. All set to an upbeat soulful rock stride! On The Line A lo-fi fuzzy rocker dealing with my experience of giving up alcohol. Summing up the fears & feelings that come with getting sober, and trying to understand the many grips of addiction. When you’re dealing with something like that, every day feels like it’s all on the line. Fanny Fanny Bang Bang Long story short - a night out in Glasgow many moons ago, a drunk stranger spilled my drink, her boyfriend apologised, she called him and I a popular Glasgow term of endearment (found in the song’s title) & threatened to shoot us both with her thumb & index finger.. lovely stuff! The song pretty much wrote itself after that with a little artistic licence, a heady combination of menace and fun. Funny How The World Turns Its one of the poppier song on the record, I believe I’d been on an Edwyn Collins back catalogue trawl month and was written with his voice in mind! It was written on one of those days when you’re just not sure what any of it’s all about. I think my wife was away for the weekend and I got a little bored feeling sorry for myself, so wrote this as a kind of self deprecating pick me up. Went a bit ‘Penny Lane’ with the solo! Dreams Grow On Trees Bit of a waltz, lots of lush instrumentation and lyrical imagery here, not sure what it’s about but I quite like that as every line means something in itself to me. The backing vocal overdubs were a mission, I think there’s 6 harmonies in the response and each one was layered at least 5 times to get the choir effect! Pleased with how this turned out, worth the slog. Same Kinda Crazy An old-fashioned love story with a modern lyric, with the vibe set to late 50’s / early 60’s. The guitar riff, throwaway vocal sample and simple piano chords set the tone. Originally written as a duet but evolved into a more one sided perspective on finding a true love, perhaps that’s a metaphor in itself.. Workin’ On An Old Song The only solo acoustic track on the album, quite literally what it says on the title. I’d written about half the lyrics a few years ago and done nothing with them, so I came back to it last year. Once the title idea was there the rest came very quickly, and it’s one of my favourites. What you hear on the album is the first and only take I did which is pretty cool. Rust The sentiment of Rust is simple.. when all is said and done, how will we have made each other feel at the end of it all. An old rock n roll-feel guitar riff and honky-tonk piano drives this and it’s one of the strongest choruses on the album, a good singalong affair. Think of The Rolling Stones on Dead Flowers/Faraway Eyes. Another Conversation A bit of a rocker to close the album, influenced by the bluesier elements of Gerry Rafferty, Muddy Waters, The Rolling Stones etc. Lyrically about trying to understand a failing relationship, and in the end just getting out while you can, it’s all you can do! Very much riff led with some old school boogie woogie piano to excite things. Had about 8 electric guitar tracks on this at one point but I managed to whittle it down to 3 for the final mix. Daniel Meade is an acclaimed songwriter from Scotland with a back catalogue rich in roots and country blues music. He’s toured and worked with The Proclaimers, Ocean Colour Scene, Sturgill Simpson, Old Crow Medicine Show (some of whom invited him to make an album in Nashville in 2014), Diana Jones, Pokey LaFarge and Robbie Fulks to name just a few. Rust is the 9th release in 8 years from the constantly creative musician and offers his most fully realised and memorable set of songs yet. Find Daniel Meade at twitter.com/dmeademusic, instagram.com/dmeademusic and facebook.com/danielmeademusic now. Read the full article

#Album #DANIELMEADE #newmusic

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anavoliselenu · 7 years

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Heart of stone chapter 4

I stepped into the elevator of my apartment building, punched the number for my floor, and watched the doors slowly close. I leaned against the back wall and closed my eyes. It had been hours since my conversation with Justin Stone, yet my head was still reeling from our encounter. I didn’t know what had come over me. I really needed to talk to Allyson.

I was just about to insert my key into the door of my apartment when I heard my cell phone ring. I reached into my purse for my phone and gingerly answered the call, being extra careful not to slice my finger open on the cracked screen.

“Hello?”

“Hello, may I speak with Miss Selena Cole please?” asked pleasant female voice.

“This is Miss Cole.”

“Miss Cole, this is Laura Kaufman calling from Turning Stone Advertising. We received your résumé and we’re interested in setting up an interview with you for a position in our marketing department.”

That’s strange.

I had never heard of Turning Stone Advertising. I wondered how they got a hold of my résumé. Either way, beggars can’t be choosers, as job interviews had been few and far between.

“I would like that very much. When would you like to meet?” I asked her, stepping into my apartment and quietly closing the door behind me.

“Does tomorrow morning at nine o’clock work for you?” Laura politely asked. I mentally ran through my schedule at Wally’s. I was scheduled off for the next two days.

“That’s perfect. Can you please tell me where you’re located?” I figured that was an important place to start, considering I knew nothing at all about the company. I quickly went to the kitchen and pulled a pad of paper and a pen out of one of the drawers.

Laura rattled off an address in the financial district then said, “Just go to the security desk in the lobby and ask for me. The guard will tell you where to go from there.”

“Great! Thank you and I’ll see you in the morning.”

I thought about the upcoming interview as I finished scribbling down the address that Laura had given me.

Finally – an interview!

I put the pen down and did a little happy dance around the kitchen. This could be my opportunity to move on, a chance to step up to bigger and better things. The timing of this couldn’t be more perfect, as I had recently begun to feel discouraged over the lack of employment opportunities available in New York.

I wondered about the size of the firm and the starting pay. Anything was bound to be better paying than Wally’s. If I got the job, and found out that I didn’t like it or that the pay wasn’t what I had hoped, it was okay. All of it was inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. I would be working in my field and gaining experience to add to my résumé, something that it was seriously lacking.

I knew that I should probably get out my laptop and start researching Turning Stone Advertising. They had most likely gotten my résumé from one of those online job sites. But either way, it wouldn’t look very good if I showed up to the interview unprepared. I glanced over at the clock in the kitchen and frowned when I saw the time. I needed to get ready for my dinner with Allyson. Interview prep would just have to wait.

****

I arrived at Murphy’s Irish Pub just a few minutes after seven. I scanned the crowd for Allyson. The tavern was packed tonight. The jukebox blared “The Rocky Road to Dublin” and I tapped my foot in time to the music. I spotted William Murphy, the owner of the pub, tending the bar. He saw me come in and waved me over. I smiled and headed towards him.

Peanut shells crunched under my feet as I navigated through the crush of people. William had once told me that he never cleaned up the shells, or he would risk revealing a sticky beer-stained floor to his customers. I personally thought the tale was a big fat lie. He was so meticulous about his place, not a detail was forgotten. From the antique wooden barrels of Jameson to the vintage Michael Collins posters, I was sure that the floors were mopped to a sparkling gleam at the end of every night.

“A pint of Guinness for the lady?” William asked when I reached him.

“Sorry, Will. Wine only for this girl – you know that,” I chided.

“Aye, lassie!” he said with a feigned Irish brogue. “One day I’ll get you to come over to the dark side.”

I grimaced and stuck my tongue out – I hated the taste of beer.

William let out a loud, boisterous laugh. “Okay, not today then. Since you won’t go for a nice stout, what else can I get for you my dear?”

“Actually, nothing at the moment. I’m meeting Allyson tonight for dinner.”

“She’s already here,” he said as he pointed to the back of the pub. I looked over and saw her seated at a corner table.

“Thanks, Will. I’ll catch you later.”

I made my way over to where Allyson was sitting. She waved when she saw me approaching.

“I ordered you a glass of white already,” she said after I sat down.

“That’s my girl,” I said with a wink.

Allyson gave me a smile in return, showing off her pearly whites. She was a natural beauty; so pretty that she turned the heads of men everywhere we went. She had sparkling emerald green eyes that lit up whenever she laughed. She wore her blond hair long, never trimming more than an inch off at a time. Her hair was effortlessly straight, and I was often envious of her shower and go abilities.

“So, did you find your phone charger?” I asked her.

“How did you know that I lost my charger?” she questioned back, narrowing her eyes and sounding slightly defensive.

“You left me a note. You only do that when your charger is missing and your phone is dead,” I teased.

“I just forgot that it was in my gym bag,” she mumbled with a scowl. I busted out laughing.

“You’ve already used that excuse, Ally,” I goaded, my eyes threatening to spill tears of laughter. The truth was, Allyson lost just about everything, and I loved to pick on her about it.

“It’s not funny, Selena! You try going almost twenty-four hours without a phone. It sucks!” she exclaimed earnestly, but I could see that she was fighting back a smile.

The waitress came over to take our food order, breaking up our playful banter. As appealing as the chicken finger basket sounded, I stuck with the grilled chicken salad. Allyson, not one to have to worry about counting calories, ordered a burger and fries. I didn’t know how she could eat that stuff and not add a single ounce to her petite frame. I’d be on the treadmill for a week if I ordered that.

“So tell me – what’s your good news?” I asked curiously after our orders had been placed. I loved hearing about Allyson’s latest and greatest.

“Well,” she drawled out. “I landed the photography job with Ethan DeJames.”

“That’s great, Ally! I’m so happy for you!” I reached over and gave her a one-armed hug. Ethan DeJames was one of the fastest growing fashion designers in New York, with brand new offices in Paris and Milan. This was great news, as well as a big step in the right direction for my friend.

“It’s great to know that I’ll have a good steady income coming in now. I loved freelancing, but it was too tough waiting for the next job to come in.” She held up her glass to me. “Drinks on me tonight, babe!” We clinked our glasses and I took a sip of wine. There was an impish glint in her eyes that led me to believe there was more to her news than just a job.

“So what else do you have to tell me?”

She threw me a sly smile and her eyes sparkled with mischief. Her look confirmed my suspicions – there was more.

“Guess.”

“You have a new guy?” I predicted. Her grin widened. “Ha! I knew it! So who is he? Tall, dark and handsome like the last one?”

Her grin instantly faded into a scowl.

“Sorry – I didn’t mean to bring up ancient news,” I apologized with a wince. Allyson’s last boyfriend was a wannabe model and a total jerk that was always putting her down. I swear it was because he was jealous of her apparent good looks. I don’t think he could stand that she was prettier than he was, or that she should have been the one in front of the camera – not him. The relationship had been short lived, and I was glad when they split up.

“It’s okay. Mark was a loser anyways. Now, Jeremy on the other hand…” She took on a far away, dreamy look and I started laughing.

“So, tell me about him. Hopefully he’s better in the sack than Mark was,” I joked. That was another reason why Alyson didn’t keep the last one around very long.

“I don’t know. Yet,” she added, the familiar gleam back in her eyes. “Jeremy is a photographer, like me. I was at Ethan DeJames’ completing my new hire paperwork when I met him. It was his first day too. He told me that he normally shot landscape, but when Ethan’s recruited him to shoot their models, he decided to …” Allyson began talking rapidly, telling me every little detail of their first meeting.

But after a few minutes, her words began to fade in and out. I tried to listen, but I couldn’t seem to stay focused on what she was saying. I couldn’t stop thinking about Justin Stone. The way he consumed my every thought was extremely annoying.

It’s not like I want to go out with him or anything. Just because he looks like a Greek God with his dark waves and flashing blue eyes doesn’t mean I wanted to sleep with him. Guys who look like him are nothing but trouble.

“Um, hello? Are you even listening to what I’m saying?” Allyson asked, interrupting my thoughts by waving a hand in front of my face.

“I’m sorry, Ally. I was listening…sort of. I’m just a little distracted today,” I explained, feeling bad about my rudeness.

“What’s wrong?” Lines of concern marred her pretty face.

“Nothing major, really.” And that was the truth – nothing was seriously wrong.

I’m just a total head case over a man I barely know.

The waitress came back to the table with our food and I was grateful for the interruption. I needed to figure out how to explain this without sounding like a complete nut job. As soon as the waitress walked away, Allyson pounced.

“Spill it,” she demanded.

“I have a job interview tomorrow. I got the call just before I left to meet you.” I paused and took a few bites of my salad. “Oh, and I think I met the hottest guy on the planet yesterday,” I blurted out.

Shock briefly flashed across her face at my announcement, but she recovered quickly.

“I didn’t see that one coming! Do tell!” she said, rubbing her hands together and wiggling her eyebrows. Allyson was always so animated when she spoke, and her vivacity made me smile.

“It’s nothing like you’re probably thinking, Ally. I only saw him twice and it was fairly brief both times.”

“Well, what does he look like?” she pressed.

“He’s tall. Well built from what I can tell. Dark hair and blue eyes – really intense blue eyes. Definitely sexy, and I think he knows it too. He has sort of an arrogant gait when he walks.” I felt my stomach do a little flip as I thought back to the sight of Justin walking to the checkout line at Wally’s.

“What’s his name?”

“Justin Stone,” I said and waited to see if she recognized the name. Apparently she didn’t, because she just threw another question at me, eagerly looking for more information.

“How did you meet him?”

I went on to describe my first encounter and I didn’t leave out any details – my fall, his arm around my waist, his promise to see me soon. She didn’t laugh like I thought she would. Instead, she stared at me with wide eyes, and signaled our waitress for another round of drinks.

“I can’t believe you fell,” she said incredulously, her eyes wide in shock.

“Yeah, I did. It was absolutely mortifying too!” I dropped my head into my hands and moaned.

“You said that you saw him twice. Please tell me that you didn’t embarrass yourself a second time.” I picked my head back up to look at her and started laughing at her expression. She looked thoroughly appalled at the thought of me humiliating myself again.

“No, I wasn’t a total klutz the second time. But I wasn’t exactly smooth either.” I told her about what happened in aisle nine, and made sure to include the tantalizing way Justin had chewed a piece of gum.

“I love it!” she exclaimed, dissolving into a fit of laughter when I told her how I had tossed a pack of Big Red into his cart.

“Yeah, well…I wanted to throw him off his game and I couldn’t think of anything better to do. I’m not too sure my brilliant idea worked, though,” I said with a frown. I thought back to his stunned look and felt slightly stupid over what I had done. “When I think about it, I can’t even begin to figure out why I found his gum chewing such a turn on. I mean, it’s gum. Gross, right? But it wasn’t. It was all kinds of crazy sexy.”

“He wants you,” she concluded, popping a french-fry into her mouth.

“Are you out of your mind? I made a complete fool of myself!”

“I don’t think so, Selena,” she replied knowingly. “I mean really – the guy came back to see you the very next day. He was concerned about how you were doing, he asks you a bunch of personal questions, makes a crap load of sexual innuendos, and has a philosophical discussion on the fundamentals of control. If that doesn’t scream ‘I wanna screw’, then I don’t know what does. Hell, the fact that you are even talking about him tells me that you want him too.”

“You’re wrong, Ally,” I said and felt my face redden. Her ability to read me was scary.

“Oh my god! You’re blushing. You really do like him, don’t you?” she said, obviously stunned. It was time to rein her in before this conversation got out of hand.

“You are making way too much out of this. First of all, he didn’t make sexual innuendos. Well, maybe one,” I conceded. “I think the rest was mostly made up in my head. And secondly, his questions weren’t personal. They were completely platonic and work related. Sure, maybe I wanted to strip him down right there in the middle of Wally’s, but it wasn’t like that for him. I’m certain that his only concern was a potential lawsuit.”

She frowned at me.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit. You’re beautiful, Selena. I don’t know why you can’t see that. Is it so hard to believe that maybe, just maybe, he was interested in more than just the bump on your head?”

“I think the guy has the potential to be a total control freak, Ally. Been there, done that – remember? I won’t make that mistake again.”

I remained quiet then and looked down at my plate. I was sure that Allyson knew where my thoughts were heading, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, we ate our food in quiet, and I silently prayed that she wouldn’t bring up the forbidden subject of my past, the painful topic that I avoided at all costs. I didn’t want to go there.

After several minutes had passed, she finally spoke.

“I know that you don’t want to talk about this,” she began softly. “You have scars that I can’t even begin to comprehend. But –,”

“You’re right. I don’t want to talk about it,” I stated flatly.

“Honey, every guy isn’t like Trevor.”

“Don’t you think I know that? I just haven’t found the right guy yet,” I snapped irritably. I didn’t add that I hadn’t really been looking for Mr. Right either. Two years past and more shrinks than I can count, and my wounds were still raw. A part of me worried that I’d never be whole again. “Maybe I should just become a lesbian.”

“What?” Allyson frowned, obviously thrown.

“Nothing – just something Jim said earlier at work,” I muttered. Allyson looked at me quizzically, but dismissed my comment with a shake of her head.

“Look, Selena. Acknowledging the fact that Stone even exists should be a sign for you. It’s a sign that you’re ready to move on. It’s time to get out there again. You haven’t dated anyone since you and Trevor broke up,” she reminded me.

“I’ve gone on dates!”

A few.

Allyson leaned back in her chair, folded her arms and smirked.

“Name one guy that you’ve gone on more than two dates with since you and Trevor broke up.”

There were none. I knew she was right, but I still couldn’t help jumping on the defense. It certainly wasn’t my fault that every guy I met wanted to get jiggy with it after only five minutes of conversation.

“Justin Stone is probably one of the wealthiest men in New York. He’s way out of my league He can choose any woman he wants – why in the world would he want me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. The fact that he’s loaded means nothing. Right now, you have two years of celibacy talking for you.”

“I haven’t been celibate for two years! You’re forgetting about Bryce, the music guy. Remember him?”

“You can’t possibly be serious!” she said in exasperation.

I frowned at her, knowing that she was right again. I couldn’t really count the musician that I went out with only once. Bryce was a futile attempt at fixing my shattered heart. He was my rebound after Trevor; the drunken one night stand that never called me again. I wasn’t even completely sure if Bryce was his real name, and I regretted that night still to this day.

“I don’t want to talk about Trevor or Bryce, Ally. And you’re outrageous imagination about Stone will just end up planting too many crazy ideas in my head. Trust me when I say that I don’t need your help with that.”

I thought about the little devil that had been making quite a regular appearance on my shoulder as of late, putting all sorts of enticing images in my head.

Angels and devils? You’re really cracking up, Cole.

“Yeah, right. You need to have more crazy ideas as far as I’m concerned,” she quipped.

“Don’t start with me. I’m perfectly fine being alone. I don’t need a relationship or sex to be happy. Besides, I’ll probably never see Justin Stone again anyways. And even if I do, he prefers tall and curvy redheads.”

In an attempt to change the subject, I told her about my internet findings on the wealthy Justin Stone and his history with gingers.

“So what? If anyone can persuade him to change his mind about redheads, it would be you.”

“No, Ally,” I said, a warning tone evident in my voice.

“I can just see the headlines now, ‘Ridiculously Rich Justin Stone Chooses Chestnut Brown Over Dull Red Head’. It could happen,” she stated matter-of-factly with a devilish smile.

“Ugh – you’re relentless!”

Through the loud noise of the pub, I heard the familiar clanking of metal on metal. I looked over my shoulder and saw William standing next to the bar tapping two spoons against his knee in time with the music, a favorite pastime for the regulars at Murphy’s. A distraction was definitely needed if I wanted Allyson to drop the subject.

“Come on – Will is playing the spoons.” I stood up, threw my napkin on the table, and grabbed her hand.

The subject was bound to come up again, but I was finished with it for now. The past was the past. Rehashing it never ended in a positive outcome. Tonight, I just wanted to have fun.

hat ��Po�

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