The Tied Man

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.’

Lilith

‘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.