The Tied Man (35 page)

Lilith came towards me,
and I thought she was actually going to touch me in full view of
Blaine
.  ‘Whoa, no – not that.  God, I wouldn’t just disappear!  I’ve got a day’s furlough, that’s all.  Driving down to
London
for some award or other, for...  well, it doesn’t matter, really.  Just something I did ages ago. 
Blaine
told me about it a couple of weeks ago, but I guess I got distracted.’  She deliberately kept her tone light, as though this would be a pleasant business trip, but there was a tightness around her mouth that told me she had no choice whatsoever about attending.

‘It’s hardly ‘some award or other’,’
Blaine
remonstrated.  ‘Lilith will be picking up the Helicon Award for European Artist of the Year, for her
Players’ Triptych
.  It’s a very prestigious event.  You’ve gone a little pale, Finn – perhaps you’ve pushed yourself a little too far for your first outing?’

‘I’ll be fine.’  Apparently my walk down the corridor was far more cause for concern than being fucked up the ass in a few hours’ time.

Blaine
smoothed away an imaginary crease on Lilith’s bedspread.  ‘I suppose while you’re here, I should tell you – it looks like you’ll be without both the women in your life this weekend, darling.  My son’s invited me to
Zurich
to meet his latest girlfriend.  Another ‘greatest love’, no doubt, until the next peroxide-embellished little slut appears on the horizon. ’

Both the women
...  The barb wasn’t lost on me.  That Lilith had pulled away before she made contact, or that I had shut my mouth before I had expressed further dismay – it didn’t matter.  When it came to
Blaine
’s eye for vulnerability, we may as well have rented a billboard and used that to advertise how we felt.

There was so much I wanted to say, but with
Blaine
showing no signs of leaving just yet, there was nothing I could do.

‘
I’m coming back
,’ Lilith mouthed behind
Blaine
’s back, and I almost allowed myself to believe her.

I threw my suitcase onto the bed and took out my costume for the ceremony.  It was less a dress than two sky blue silk handkerchiefs sewn together, and now I regretted my choice.

I winced as I eased my t-shirt over my head; I fel
t like I’d been attacked with an industrial sander
.  I stepped into the halogen-lit cavern of my hotel bathroom, and just twenty minutes before I was due to float down the red carpet in the style of a 21st Century icon, I stood in front of the full-length mirror and stared at my body in horror.  In the hours it had taken for me to drive to
London
, my eczema had flared to such a degree that I looked like a victim of the Black Death. 

Fifteen minutes to go.  I stood under the shower’s sharp needles of spray and thought of Finn and how many times he must have been through this discomfort. 

I thought of Finn and wanted him with me.

Ten minutes to go.  I stood naked in the centre of my hotel room and wondered what the hell I was going to wear.

I arranged the pile of leftover food on my plate to spell ‘fuck’ just in time for Henry to clear away the dishes, and wondered if I could get away with my third refill in twenty minutes from the nearby wine bottle without Blaine giving me the death-glare across the table.  I wore a pale pink casual shirt with a buttoned down collar that I guessed was one of Henry’s spares, and a pair of Armani  jeans that I was only allowed to wear for work. 

The casual costume was for the benefit of tonight’s clients:  Gary something-or-other was a footballer celebrating his transfer to a Premiership team, and apart from a presumed skill at his sport, there was absolutely nothing to the man: no charisma, no wit, and certainly no looks, with his pockmarked cheeks and protruding front teeth.  His thin hair had been combed back in an attempt to hide the bald spot that was already evident despite the fact that he was two or three years younger than me.

Nevertheless, he brought a pneumatic blonde companion who was so vapid that I didn’t even bother learning her name.  She wouldn’t have given the buck-toothed tosser a second glance if he had worked behind the counter of a burger van.

Already pissed blind, she looked at me with that hungry expression I had come to detest.  Suddenly all I wanted was Lilith next to me, taking everything in and reading it for the bullshit it was, and I knew that when it was all over I would crave the tranquillity of Lilith’s room where I might hide until I returned to myself.

But Lilith wasn’t here.  She would be on another planet by now, and I wondered if her old world had already enfolded her and erased me from her mind.   I
really
needed to find my working head:  Blaine was already well into her routine, discussing the Premier League with Gary as though it were her only hobby.  Henry had surmised that she was looking to invest in a team and  I guessed that rat-boy here was the easiest route to the directors’ box.

‘So, you goin’ to use your fingers or your tongue on my pussy?’  The slurred whisper of the blonde thing cut through my brooding.

Actually, I’d rather not come within a five-mile exclusion zone of your rancid cunt
, I thought, then smiled.  ‘Whatever you prefer.’

‘
That your new look, Lil?
’  some low-rent paparazzo bellowed from the midst of the crowd that had gathered outside the unspeakably hip
Mayfair
club where the Helicon Awards were being held.

‘Something like that.’

‘Bit of a departure, innit?  Left your ballgown at home tonight?’

‘Hopin’ Johnny Buckle’s turned up for a rematch?’

I virtually ran down the red carpet.  Instead of the fragment of sky-blue silk I wore the labrador sweater that Agnes had donated to me at the hospital.  I had transformed it into a dress, pulled at the neck so that it hung off my shoulder, and cinched at the waist with a black leather belt donated by the doorman at my hotel.  Teamed with thick black tights, it covered my eczema and protected me from a night that was already chill with the promise of an early, hard autumn.  The last time I had worn it, I had been held close by a man whose welfare now depended on my good behaviour on this, my first night on a long leash.

I had never been sentimental about such things, but now I surreptitiously rubbed at the shoulder that had rested against Finn’s chest.

‘It true you’ve been in rehab?’
  That last question bounced off my retreating back as I disappeared into the cavernous doorway.

*****

‘Lilith!  Oi, Lilith!  Over here!’

In the darkness of the auditorium I couldn’t see who was shouting me, but the voice was familiar.  The next moment, Gabriel James had bounded over and flung strong, fragrant fake-tanned arms around me.  The room lit up like a nuclear test site as every camera in the place turned on us and flashed simultaneously.

‘I already shifted the place-cards so I got you next to me.  Seein’ as you got me this gig and everythin’.’

‘What... I’m sorry, I did what?’

Gabriel grinned and his teeth were luminescent in the gloom.  ‘Where you been all summer, bird?  I told you I’d get a song outta you, didn’t I?  Almost an Angel – it’s only been  fackin’ number one download for the last seven weeks!’

‘Really?  God, I had no idea.  I’ve been kind of tied up.’

Gabriel placed a gentle hand under my chin and the cocky brat charm vanished, to be replaced by genuine concern.  ‘You all right, doll?’

‘No.  Not really.  But I’ll get through tonight.’

Gabriel’s entire demeanour changed.  He put an arm protectively around my shoulders and led me to my seat.  There was another volley of flashes and my companion turned to the nearest photographer.  ‘You’ve got what you wanted, mate.  Now, piss off and leave us alone, would you?’

‘Ah, come on...’ the man complained.

‘Nah, you ‘come on’,’  Gabriel retorted.  ‘Unless you want your telephoto surgically extracting.’  Across the vast round table, two shadowy forms loomed up out of the darkness and the photographer made the universal gesture of surrender with his hands.  Jay and Al were in the house and I knew that for these few, brief hours I would be safe.

‘Thank you,’ I mouthed to Gabriel as our host for the night – a stand-up comedian who was society’s court jester of the month – began his carefully scripted ad-libbing.

‘No worries,’ Gabriel said, now without a trace of Mockney.  ‘Pack of wankers.’

I gave him a quick hug of gratitude and he felt reassuringly solid and normal after long months of insanity.

‘Does this mean you’ve reconsidered my offer?’ Gabriel whispered hopefully in my ear.

My whole skin itched as my most recent client sprawled in post-orgasmic stupor and gave me a drunken, smug smile from the four-poster bed.  At least she’d stopped squealing like a stuck pig, and I’d already begun to imagine the harsh, welcome sting of the scrubbing brush against my arms.

Gary
had sat in an armchair six feet away from the bed with his erection standing like a tentpole in his trousers for the whole show.  Now he walked over and stroked his girlfriend’s arm.  ‘Tell you what darl, why don’t you just get nice and cosy under them sheets, while I go and get myself a nightcap?’

‘You’re coming back though, aren’t you?’ she slurred.

‘Sure I am babes.  We’ve got all morning to have our fun.’

‘Thanks, Gaz.  I’ll  make it up to you.’  She squinted up at me.  ‘And thanks... God, I’ve forgotten your name, but you was brilliant.’

‘Any time.’

Gary
placed a light hand on my arm.  ‘Joinin’ me for one, mate?’

‘Sure,’ I shrugged, as if socialising with an inarticulate sexual inadequate was going to be the highlight of my weekend.

*****

Gary
poured us both a large Scotch from the decanter in the dining room and we stood in an awkward silence broken only by the solid ticking of the grandfather clock. 

‘Listen mate, you did a great job with Kayleigh back there.  Nice one, yeah?  Made her fuckin’ year.’

‘It’s what I do.’

‘Well yeah, but you’re still pretty good, aren’t you?  Got all the moves.  Must be all the practice you get.’ 
Gary
fell silent again, all out of conversation.

I sighed and drained my glass in one mouthful.  ‘So, how do you want me?’

‘Wish they’d make these bastards a bit more stoner-friendly.’ Gabriel ran his finger down his embossed programme and squinted at the miniscule, fussy font.  ‘Can’t focus on my glass, never mind this bloody page.  Looks like you’re next, anyway – better make sure you haven’t tucked your dress into your knickers.  If you’re wearin’ any, that is.’

‘Kill me now,’ I whispered as the host, about as funny as Ebola, began my introduction. 

‘Ladies and gentlemen, would you please welcome the deserving winner of the Helicon Award for ‘European Artist of the Year’, and join me in my prayers that she’s left her boxing gloves at home...
Lilith Bresson
!’

The Players’ Triptych
loomed large on the screen ahead of me as I made the long walk to the stage.  I could have stared at it all night and it still wouldn’t have felt part of me; the Lilith Bresson who had created it over a long, hedonistic Italian summer no longer existed.

The applause could have belonged to anyone as I received a jagged piece of aquamarine glass on a brushed steel plinth, and a sealed briefcase.  Thanks to
Blaine
’s strictly rationed information, I had no idea how much it held, and I didn’t care.  I forced a smile for the cameras as I posed with a Swedish supermodel who was approximately twice my height and said a brief ‘thank you’ at the microphone, then ran from the stage and back to the shelter of Gabriel, Jay and Al.

Gabriel pulled my chair out for me and kissed me on the cheek.  ‘Well done, gorgeous.  So, you goin’ to handcuff that to your wrist?’  He nodded at the case.

‘Why?’

He gave a leonine laugh.  ‘You’re away with the fairies tonight, ain’t you?  There’s forty grand in used notes in there.  Apparently it’s more ‘hip’ than using new ones.  It’s meant to look like a bank job, yeah?’

I stared at the suitcase.  ‘Shit.’

‘No shit.  So how ‘bout you and me pool our winnings and blow it on one glorious night of champagne and libertine indulgence?’  He rested a hand in the small of my back and worked at the muscles tightened by an eight-hour drive.  He gave me a smile of such innocent expectation that I had to laugh.

‘There, see?  Knew there was a smile hiding in there somewhere.’  He patted the case.  ‘Might not get us a yacht, but I reckon there’s gotta be something in
London
we can buy to celebrate.  Whaddya reckon?’