Cold Comfort (27 page)

“It’s a vest top. It’s hardly indecent.”

“It’s a bit clingy.”

“Don’t listen to him, D,” Eddy said, coming
up behind me. “You look freaking amazing as you are.” Cat huffed and walked
off, while I just watched, Eddy standing quietly beside me.

“Why’s he mad?” I asked no one in
particular, just voicing the question that had been running through my mind all
afternoon.

“He’s not good at sharing the limelight, I
think,” Eddy suggested.

“I’m not trying to steal his thunder.”

“I know. He does too, deep down. You can’t
help yourself. You’re just too good to hide, and people want to know more about
you. These guys have been interviewed so much, and you’re new and exciting. He’s
struggling to adjust. He’ll get there, though, eventually.”

“Thank god you’re here,” I said, hugging
him as we heard the five-minute call go out for Cat’s interview. The band
huddled round the monitor in our changing room as Cat walked out onto the stage
and shook hands with the host.

At first the interview seemed fine, but
once they started talking about the single Cat began to sound surly. The
questions focused on me – where he’d met me, how incredible my voice was,
what plans the band had to feature me on any other tracks. When he was asked
how he’d managed to persuade me to go out with him, and they showed a picture
of me from the UK magazine article, Cat looked openly pissed.

“Fuck,” I heard Matt mutter.

“Well, you know I have a way with the
women,” Cat retorted with a smug, unpleasant expression on his face.

“So then she’s just one of the many, Cat? We
all know the source of your name,” the interviewer sniggered.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he said
with swagger. I felt bile rise in my stomach. It didn’t matter that I knew it wasn’t
true. He’d hurt me – on live T.V.

“He doesn’t mean it, Delilah,” Matt said,
coming over to hug me.

“’Bout fucking time,” Henry muttered. “The
Cat’s back at last. Let the party get fucking started.”

The call came for us to set up on stage. I
walked out, deliberately avoiding any eye contact with Cat, who was still
chatting with the host. When his interview came to a close he walked over to
applause from the audience and took his position on the stool beside me. I
turned to face the lights, closing my eyes as the familiar opening refrain
started.

For the first time since we’d started
singing together the song felt clumsy. Cat was off. It wasn’t anything the
majority of the audience would notice, but I did, and so did the band. I tried
to compensate in my own parts – my voice strong and sure – but it
still didn’t make up for what was lacking. The connection was gone.

We finished to a standing ovation and the
usual effusive praise from the presenter, but this time it all felt false to
me. I walked quickly off stage as soon as we were able and returned to the
dressing room.

“What the fuck was that about?” Cat
shouted, storming in behind me.

“I’m sorry?”

“Your fucking performance out there. All
the showing off, the vocal trickery – were you trying to make me look
bad?”

“Oh, I think you did that all by yourself,”
I said, grabbing my bag. I had no clue where I was planning to go, just that I
needed to get away from Cat.

“What is your problem?” he demanded.

“Right now you’re my problem,” I told him
honestly. “You’re behaving like an arse towards me. I’m not sure why, but I do
know I don’t like it.” With that I slung my bag over my shoulder and marched
past him. The others were standing in the hallway, clearly unwilling to walk in
while we’d been shouting at each other. I grabbed Eddy’s hand as I passed him,
and he tripped along beside me as I headed towards the exit.

“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.

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?”