Cold Comfort

by Isobel Hart

  “Delilah Thomas?” an American accent called. “Delilah? Can I have a moment?”

  I slowed, looking towards the portly middle-aged man who had called out to me. “Can I help you?” I asked, my innate politeness, a legacy from my Mama, insisting I not ignore him.

  “I thought you were astonishing,” he began.

  I sighed, in no mood for someone blowing smoke up my arse. “You’re very kind,” I began, starting to walk off again.

  “Really,” he said, one hand on my arm. “I’m not a fan… well, I am, but not like you think. I’m a manager. I manage a few acts, and I know from Wayne you don’t have representation at the moment. Here’s my card. Look me up. The simple fact is I want to manage you, and I know I can make amazing things happen for you. I know you know nothing about me, but if you want to find out more I can give you some people’s names and contact details. Just… think about it before you say no,” he said, as he felt me withdraw. I looked down at the card he’d placed in my hand and slipped it in my pocket before nodding at him, and then grabbed Eddy’s hand again and marched out the building.

  Chapter 27

  I slept in the same bed as Eddy that night. The band had gone straight out to the clubs after the performance, while Eddy and I had chosen a quiet meal instead. When we got back it was quiet, and we’d settled in to watch a movie, until the whole band decided to descend on Cat’s and my suite, groupies in tow. I’d taken one look at the women hanging off Cat and left the room with Eddy. I was seriously considering changing my plans and catching a flight back to the UK.

  “What about that guy?” Eddy asked as we lay side by side on his bed. “Who was he? Have you looked him up yet?”

  “No. Why on earth do I need a manager?”

  “Uh, der!” Eddy said with a laugh. “Have you seen that article about you?” The article had been published a couple of hours earlier, and I’d already been inundated since with messages via Wayne for more interview requests. Mama had been in tears when she’d read it, and I’d had to spend a large portion of dinner calming her down she was so excited.

  “It’s not real. They don’t even know me. I think you’ll find they say that sort of thing about lots of people who come to nothing.”

  “Bullshit. She rarely says anything nice about anyone. You can run, Delilah, but you can’t hide. You need to consider your options. Wayne won’t look out for you – he only cares about Cold Comfort. You need to find someone whose priority is you.”

  “I would if I were going to become a full-time singer, but I’m not. I’m going to teach music after I finish my degree. I’m going to give other kids who can’t afford it the help they need to learn how wonderful music can be.”

  “That’s very commendable, but it’s still good to understand your options. Maybe you could do both? After all, how are you going to feed yourself while you give all those free lessons?” He had a point. I handed him the card, and he Googled the name on his iPad.

  “Holy moly,” he breathed after a couple of minutes of scanning pages. “Do you know who you were freaking talking to? Only Bill Morrison.”

  “Who?”

  “Oh my god, Delilah.” He started to list the names of some of my favourite singers over recent times. There weren’t loads, and the acts were mostly slightly older, but what there was was quality. “I thought he’d retired. I can’t believe he wants to work with you.”

  “The fact remains I’m not sure if I’m cut out for this business,” I said, as the sounds of female shrieks echoed from my suite down the hallway.

  “You don’t have to act like them,” Eddy said dismissively. “Cat’s being an ass. He’ll be creeping along the corridor before you know it, trying to find you.”

  “That’s just it. I don’t want to keep going through this cycle of trusting him only for him to let me down like that. He practically said I was just one of his harem. I have more self-respect than to let anyone treat me like that. I didn’t let Hardy, and I won’t let Cat. I deserve better.” I paused, looking at him. “God, Eddy, I wish you were straight.”

  “I’m a hard act to follow, it’s true,” he said sagely, which made me laugh.

  “See, even when my supposed boyfriend is doing god knows what, with god knows who in the room next door, you can still make me laugh. That’s a wonderful gift,” I said, hugging him.

  “My pleasure, anytime,” he said, stroking my hair as I lay with my head on his chest.

  *

  We must have both fallen asleep because the next thing I knew the bedroom door flew open, hitting the wall with a loud crash and Cat was shouting at me. “What the fuck’s going on here?”

  I sat up in shock, Eddy a moment behind me, my eyes bleary. I peered at the time on the clock.

  “It’s four a.m., Cat,” I moaned, collapsing back down onto the bed. “Go to bed.”

  “I asked what the fuck is going on. You fucking her, Eddy?” That got me pissed. I sat up again, taking in his appearance this time. His hair was wild, as if unknown fingernails had been raking through it, and his eyes were bloodshot and glassy. He was wired to the max.

  “What’s going on is two friends making do with the available sleeping arrangements because there was a party going on in the other person’s room. I wanted to get some sleep. Eddy’s my friend. My homosexual friend. Now stop behaving like a dick and leave us alone. I warned you how I felt about all this,” I said, pointing at his state of undress. “Maybe you can use the time alone to reflect on your own behaviour this evening,” I commented, noting the lipstick on his collar.

  “Get the fuck into my bed, Delilah,” Cat demanded.

  “No. I don’t like you very much right now. I would suggest you back the fuck off and leave me alone, unless you want me to get on the first available flight back to the UK.” He stood there for a moment or two, his eyes blazing and nostrils flaring, but I stared right back at him.

  “Fuck!” he exclaimed finally, slamming the door behind him as he left.

  For a long time we were quiet, with just the sound of my breathing breaking the silence as I lay there digesting what had just happened. My breathing became more ragged and then finally the tears started to fall, as Eddy pulled me into his arms. “Oh, baby girl, you’re okay,” he told me as he hugged me. “You’re strong. I wish you didn’t have to be. You shouldn’t have to be. The guy’s an ass. He doesn’t deserve you if he’s going to behave like that. Let’s just get this trip finished and then we can go home and forget all about the lousy band.” I nodded, liking the thought of returning to the normality of our life in Brighton, as he held me and stroked my hair. We stayed that way for a long time until finally I fell back to sleep.

  *

  The next day the band was far more subdued. Mainly because they were all seriously hung over. We performed at a number of places – thankfully the buzz around the single was just as positive here as it had been in the UK. Cat gave me some space, but I could feel his eyes upon me throughout the day. I ignored him, unwilling to ask what had gone on the night before.

  Things were still strained by the time we walked into our hotel in L.A. later that night. My body clock was now completely shot, and I had no idea what day it was, let alone what time. All I knew was it was dark and I desperately wanted to sleep. When I asked for my own room Cat started to protest, but I stopped him dead with one look. The red-haired Jessica Rabbit lookalike that bounded up to him while we were waiting for the lifts didn’t help either.

  “Cat, honey, I’m so happy you’re here,” she cooed, planting a big kiss on his lips. The band members’ heads swivelled towards me.

  I wanted to poke her eyes out, but instead I gave a brusque, “Excuse me,” as I shouldered my way past into the lift. Cat pulled away from her and made to step in with me, but I just glowered at him.

  “Delilah,” he started. I raised a single eyebrow as the doors slid closed between us, my mood turning to black by the time I’d dragged my bag up to the bedroom door. Cat arrived moments later, before I
’d even located my key, panting.

  “Delilah,” he managed between gasps of breath.

  “Fuck,” I exclaimed as the contents of my bag spilled out across the hallway. I knelt down and began to shovel everything back in.

  “Your language is worse since you met me,” he observed.

  “You think?”

  “Yeah,” he said with a sad smile. “Can I come in?” he asked when I finally located the key – in my pocket – and opened the door. I hesitated. “I thought we’d have the chance to talk tonight, then you asked for your own room. We need to talk…” He trailed off.

  “What about Jessica?”

  “Jessica?” he asked, confused.

  “The redhead.”

  “Oh, you mean Tiff?” I nodded. “I left her with Henry.”

  “Lucky Henry… She seemed like a close friend.”

  He grimaced. “She’s nothing. Just an old hookup.” He winced when he realised that didn’t make it sound any better. “Look, I’m out of my depth here,” he said, hand raking through his hair as his agitation took hold. I sighed, tired of all the tension.

  “It’s fine, Cat,” I said. “Get an early night. We have another long day tomorrow, and I’m dog tired. I need some sleep right now.”

  “Have dinner with me tomorrow after we finish, then?”

  “I don’t know,” I prevaricated, but his expression was so doleful I didn’t have the heart to say no. “Okay, but if you’re an ass during the day I reserve the right to cancel.”

  “You can indeed,” he promised. “I won’t be an ass. I’ll behave myself. I’ll show you I’m worth the effort. I know how it looked the other night, but I didn’t sleep with any of them.”

  “It wasn’t the sleeping I was worried about.”

  “You know what I mean. I just needed you to know that. We’ll talk at dinner tomorrow. Sleep well, baby,” he said. Then he gave me a kiss that made my knees tremble and left.

  I closed the door and threw myself onto the bed, exhausted by the work, the travel and the emotional roller coaster I’d been on for the last few weeks. The phone rang, and it was Eddy, just checking I was okay after Cat’s visit. “How did you know he wasn’t still here?” I asked.

  “I thought you’d make him work harder than that, and quite right too,” he said, laughing. “Are you alright? Did he upset you?”

  “I’m fine. He was okay. I told him I was tired and that we’d have dinner after work tomorrow. How did the lovely Tiff take his disappearance?”

  “She had a face like a cat’s arse. Well, at least that’s what it would have looked like if she’d not had so much filler pumped into her lips. She made do with Henry, who seemed delighted.”

  “They’re made for each other, I should think.”

  “Well, you get some sleep, sweetpea. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

  We made arrangements to meet, and then I dragged myself into the shower before finally collapsing into the bed. I must have slept for nearly five hours when my body suddenly decided it was time to wake up. The dark skies outside the window told me I still had hours to go, so I lay there for nearly an hour trying to coax my body to sleep some more before finally giving up. Alone with my guitar for the first time in weeks I composed some new tunes, scribbling down lyrics in my little notebook as they came to me. By the time the hour arrived to meet Eddy I had two new songs down.

  With another full day of work scheduled ahead of us, it was only the fact that we all knew the load lightened afterwards, with a marginally less full-on work schedule for the rest of the week, that kept us all focused. The single was reportedly doing well in the charts on both sides of the Atlantic now, so the band planned to spend the next few days working on their new album and preparing for their forthcoming American tour, while in between we hopped around the US doing T.V. appearances. It was a relief for me to have a bit of a break on the cards.

  “Delilah,” Wayne said, approaching from the corner of the room where he’d been huddled on his telephone. “Have you got yourself a manager yet?”

  “No, I didn’t think I’d need one.”

  “Well, you might want to reconsider. These are all requests you’ve received,” he said, handing me a sheet of paper with an outline of activities people wanted me to get involved in and when. They varied from newspaper and magazine features to bookings to sing. There was even a request for me to appear on a T.V. game show.

  “They all for you?” Eddy asked, scanning the list. “Wow, some of these are crazy good,” he said, pointing at the names of the magazines that were interested.

  “I don’t mean to be rude,” Wayne interrupted our perusal of the list, “but I can’t continue to field everything for you and do what the boys need me to as well. I’m going to drop something at some point. I can recommend some people if you like?”

  “Yeah, I’ll think about it,” I said, thinking about Bill Morrison again. I needed to make a decision about whether this was what I wanted to do. Then there was the fact Eddy and I were due back at college in a few weeks.

  Wayne walked off while I continued to scan down the events, stopping when I saw a charity request. They wanted me to sing for a children’s cancer unit at Palmer General Hospital. “I want to do this one,” I said, pointing it out to Eddy. “Do you think Cat will do it with me? We could just take the guitars.”

  “Probably. He’s fairly desperate to get back in your good books.” Cat chose that exact moment to walk into the breakfast hall and made an immediate beeline for me. Women at every table lifted their heads like meerkats as he made his way over.

  “What have you got there?” he asked, nodding towards the papers I still held, having grabbed a plate of eggs and bacon on his way past before sitting down without asking.

  “Wayne gave them to me. They’re appearance requests.”

  “Isn’t he managing them for you?”

  “He’s too busy to do both you and me. Anyway, it’s all part of the decisions I need to make.”

  “What decisions?”

  “Whether I need to get my own manager, whether I go back to college, whether I even want to sing as a profession. You know life, the universe, and everything.” I paused. “Hey, I would ask one favour, though. There’s a request in here to sing at a children’s cancer ward. I’d like to do it. Will you sing with me? We can do the single.”

  “When is it?”

  I scanned the page for the details. “Tomorrow afternoon.”

  “That’s the first free time we’ll have had in days,” he protested. “Can’t they rearrange?”

  “These are kids with cancer. Time is not their friend.”

  “Okay, well, I’ll do my best… for you,” he said with a grin. “Make sure Wayne knows and schedules in a car.” I quickly used the contact details on the page to confirm our availability with the hospital, who were delighted, and then scurried straight over to Wayne and filled him in. He just scowled when he heard what I’d agreed to, especially when he heard I’d roped Cat in too.

  “Most acts would cut off their right arms to have a tenth of those appearances and bookings, and you choose to do the one that pays you zilch?” I shrugged and said nothing. There was no way Wayne and I were ever going to agree on the subject.

  *

  The morning had passed relatively peacefully after the chaos of the last few days. By ten minutes before I’d arranged to meet Cat, I was dressed in my skinny jeans and the black vest top I liked so much. It was casual, but that was the way I preferred it. I finished the look off with biker boots and a heavy belt, congratulating myself that I’d got the rock chick look down. It helped I had a wardrobe full of new clothes to pick from now.

  I’d arranged to meet Cat in the lobby, and when I walked out of the elevator he was already surrounded by fans and the predictable groupies. He must have been looking out for me because moments after he pushed his way through the crowd and headed over to me. He was in a Nirvana t-shirt and some faded blue jeans that clung to his legs in all the righ
t places. “You look amazing,” he said when he reached me, bending down to give me a knee-trembling kiss. I swear I heard the collective female population groan at the sight, but I didn’t care. He took my hand and led me out to a waiting car.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Just a little place on the coast I know. It’s quiet and beautiful. We can talk there.” I nodded and let him guide me into the car. I spent the journey in silence, content with him holding my hand as the driver sped up the coastline, away from the city lights, until we reached a small Italian restaurant situated high in the hills, with a beautiful view overlooking the ocean.

  He led me inside where we were met by an Italian man, clearly the owner, who seemed delighted to see Cat again. We were quickly seated in a private area, away from the prying eyes of the other diners, where Cat ordered a bottle of red wine and some appetisers while we both perused the menu. “You’ve been here before,” I observed.

  “Yeah, I like it here. The food is simple but good, and I like the owner. His son is a friend of mine. He plays for another band.” I was relieved it wasn’t his favourite date night venue, making me just the latest in a long stream of women in his life.

  When the waiter returned we ordered delicious-sounding plates of pasta, while Cat poured the wine. I helped myself to a breadstick, nibbling on the end, while I waited for us to be left alone again. Finally, we had the space to ourselves. Cat sat back in his chair, cradling his wine glass as he looked at me. “I’ve missed you.”

  “I’ve missed you too.”

  “I’m sorry, Delilah. I keep doing it – keep risking what we have for… nothing. I hate myself afterwards.”

  “What made you so angry that day?”

  “I don’t know.”