Page 60 of The Last Love Song
‘But I think we could have some fun together for a while, until she comes back, that is. It sounds awful to put it like that, but it’s only fair to place my cards on the table so you’re not under any illusions. I respect you enormously, and I don’t want to hurt your feelings.’
‘I understand what you’re saying, Tony.’
‘If nothing else, I want us to stay friends, though I have to say I’d miss what we just did.’
Helen turned her face away. She was here, and the mystery lady wasn’t. That gave her a distinct advantage. He might fall so madly in love with her that he wouldn’t want his other lady back. It was a risk she would have to take. The pain would come later, and besides, she was good at pain.
‘Tony?’
‘Yep?’
She turned back to him and smiled. ‘Would you do that to me all over again?’
18
‘So, what do you think, Ben?’
Ben shrugged. ‘They’re...okay, man, sort of okay.’
‘Just okay?’
‘’Fraid so.’
‘I see. Well, there’s no point in my wasting any more of your time. You’re the first company I’ve talked to. Reg over at TCA has already been on the blower. I said I was giving you first refusal.’ Freddy Martin stood up.
‘And unfortunately, mate, that’s what you’ve got, a refusal.’ He walked around the long glass table to shake Freddy’s hand.
‘I think you’re making a big mistake. You should see them live. They’re super.’
‘Maybe, but it’s the little circles of black vinyl we’re more interested in. Sorry, Fred, there’s just too many bands fighting for a slice of the action right now. Better luck elsewhere, eh?’
‘Sure. See you, Ben.’
‘See you, Freddy.’ He gave a wave before returning to his desk chair.
Freddy walked along the corridor and out of reception before taking the cage lift down to the lobby. He walked towards Golden Square, opened the black wrought-iron gate and found a bench to sit on.
Freddy clenched his fists. ‘Fuck!’
The elderly lady at the other end of the bench made a hasty exit.
Freddy was getting worried. He’d approached four of the five major record companies and had so far enjoyed nothing more than lukewarm interest. If RCA said no next week, that left only the smaller independent labels without the big financial clout to give his group the push they needed. Had he got it wrong for the first time? Were The Fishermen nothing special? Should he cut his losses now and forget the whole deal?
Freddy shook his head. An instinct was still burning somewhere inside him. He’d felt it before with The Tin Men. He was sure The Fishermenhadsomething. The trick was getting others to recognise it and put their money behind the group, as he himself had done.
Freddy stood up. In a few days, he was seeing RCA. If nothing came of that, then he’d just have to look to the independents.
Derek had returned a dozen times to the blue door sandwiched between the chippy and the newsagent’s. After ringing the bell numerous times, he had resorted to loud, intermittent bouts of knocking, all to no avail. He was confused.
It was a Sunday. Ten minutes to nine on Sunday morning, to be precise. After a session of bell ringing and door knocking, the woman who ran the newsagent’s came to the door of her shop.
‘You’re making an awful racket. She’s gone away.’
Derek panicked. ‘When? Where?’
‘Keep your hair on, luvvie. For a holiday, I think. It is that time of year, you know.’
He breathed a literal sigh of relief. ‘Of course. Did she say how long for?’
