Page 46 of In This Together

‘Right, the staff.’

Tommy smiled through her insolence. ‘I usually walk him myself but tonight we made an exception for you.’

‘I’m flattered,’ she said in good humour. ‘So, I hate to ask this but, I mean, was he, like, an accident?’

Tommy chuckled. ‘I got him about six months ago. Adopted, not self-made, though noted that you likened me to a hound.’

‘Or the mother.’

‘Ouch! No, he was recommended to me, or at least the idea of getting a pet was recommended to me, by my therapist.’

Andrea almost spat out her next mouthful of whisky. ‘Tommy Dawson has a therapist?’

‘Is it so strange?’

‘Can I ask why?’

‘Well…’ He scratched his head, as if pondering his next words. ‘I just couldn’t find myself, or remember who I really was, I guess. I’d been on the road for two years straight. I didn’t have any roots anywhere. I’d lost touch with most people I knew before’ – he gestured to the expansive space around them – ‘before all this. I was drinking too much. Not that I couldn’t stop, just that it was the accepted protocol, you know? Drink before stage, during stage, after stage. Drink through the night, sleep through the day. Rinse and repeat.

‘I’d been having these… I don’t know… moments of uncertainty, I guess. Like, I wasn’t sure any more what the point of it all was.’

‘The music?’

‘Anything. I’d just lost any sense of perspective.’

‘So you decided to see someone?’

‘Not straight away. Around the same time, we found out that my old man had dementia.’

‘I’m really sorry to hear that, Tommy.’ She had met his dad once at a concert and thought he was a true gent.

‘Yeah, it pretty much sucks. He’s already in a care home. Too much for my sister and my mom, and I’m never around much.’

‘Is that why you moved back to New York?’

‘I think so. Mostly. It’s easier to see him from here but I probably could have visited from anywhere. I think the combination of everything just took its toll. My writing started to change and it wasn’t a match for the band’s sound, but it felt right to me. Natural. Anyway, through it all, I decided I needed to talk to someone who wasn’t invested in me. It felt like no one would just talk to me on a level because they all wanted something from me. The band wanted the rock star and the carefree lyrics. My sister wanted help with Mom and Dad. The road team wanted me to stay on the road.’

‘I wish… I mean, I know we’re not that close any more but I hope you know you can talk to me. I used to like you keeping me in the studio until the early hours talking my right ear off.’ The sincere turn up of her lips was reflected by Tommy.

‘I actually think having someone who didn’t know me at all and who really couldn’t give a fuck about my career was helpful. It definitely was. It made me realise that there’s more to life. I love music, but the trimmings – the parties, the booze, even the women – they mean nothing. I don’t want to be lying on my death bed wondering why I went for one more lay or one more drink, and why I don’t have people I love around me.’

She processed what he said. It was right, of course, and made her think, what would her last thought be? Would it be that she wished she’d spent more time in the office or more time sleeping with married men? She didn’t want to get into those thoughts now. She brushed them aside and asked, brightly, ‘And the dog?’

Right on cue, the dog came back to them, wagging its tail at Andrea then jumping onto the sofa and curling up by her feet. Meh, he was kind of cute, even if she wasn’t an animal lover. If nothing else, her feet were warmer with him snuggled on top of them.

‘The idea is, he gives me responsibility, for myself. Now it’s strange being in this place without hearing his feet pitter-pattering on the floor. He makes me feel like I have a home. And when I’m travelling, he comes with me. I know he needs to be walked, fed, played with and so I have a reason to say no to another drink or another party.’

‘He’s like a guide dog for the drunk.’

Tommy laughed. ‘Hey now, I’m not a drunk. And, on that note, do you want another?’

She looked at her glass, surprised it was empty. ‘Sure, but I’m not ready to move now that my toes are warm.’

‘How about dinner on the sofa?’

No Hunter. No work. Laughing. Lounging on the sofa with Tommy’s dog on her feet. Oddly, she was in.

Tommy insisted she stay where she was whilst he brought another round of drinks and –sansmore skin burns – laid out the Indian meal: poppadums, naan breads, dips, curries, and all on a coffee table he manoeuvred to the rug in front of them.

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