Dead Girl Walking by Christopher Brookmyre Page A

Rory went on. ‘That’s putting it mildly. Towards the end, the only occasion you could say he left it all out there on the stage was the time he puked on it. He was wrecked all the time, late for every rehearsal, too pissed to play half the gigs he did turn up to and pouring most of his energies into making sure he was sorted for gear and sorted for girls. I mean, I once drove down to fucking Nottingham on a Sunday for a show, knowing I’d be driving home again overnight and going straight to work as I’d school in the morning, and that cunt…’
    He let it go there, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe he was still getting angry about it all this time later.
    ‘That’s why she was ripping into me and Scott yesterday,’ Angus explained. ‘She was chewing us out to make herself feel better about the fact that she never chewed Maxi out back then. She was too intimidated by him to do anything until it was too late.’
    Rory finished his espresso, looking a little calmer by the time he’d swallowed it.
    ‘To be fair to Heike, I think she’s feeling a lot of pressure,’ I suggested. ‘She must be stressed out at the possibility of anything going wrong now, when there’s so much at stake.’
    ‘Aye, well, the stress comes as part of a tidy package,’ Angus replied, sounding less than sympathetic. ‘I wouldn’t mind that pressure if it came with the same salary and benefits. All that money she’s got, she can pay for some therapy once the tour’s over.’
    ‘Or she could lighten up a bit and stop finding pointless wee conflicts everywhere,’ said Rory.
    ‘Why didn’t Mairi do something about Maxi?’ I asked, wondering what the manager’s role had been in all this. ‘Or was she not managing you then?’
    ‘No, it was a guy called Jake Duggan,’ Rory said. ‘And the problem was he was a mate of Maxi’s: that’s how he ended up managing the band. Plus, he didn’t come on tour with us. Oh, and he was a useless arsehole. Shouldn’t discount that as a factor.’
    ‘But what about the tour manager? Was it Jan?’
    Angus and Rory exchanged another of their uncomfortable looks.
    ‘Yeah, it was Jan,’ Angus said, getting up from the table. ‘But he didn’t really see band politics as his remit.’
    There was more, I could tell, but I wouldn’t be getting it.
    Angus yawned and stretched, then stuck a muffin in his jacket.
    ‘Sorry, chaps,’ he said. ‘I need to go and check out of the room I haven’t actually been into.’
    I assumed Rory would be heading out too when he stood also, but he had the teacup in his hand. He went off to get even more espresso from the machine, asking if I wanted anything. There was still tea in my pot, so I shook my head. To be honest, I was struggling to speak as I was a bit anxious that he was planning to stay.
    Looking around the empty room, it dawned on me that with Heike having just chewed his arse, he might be feeling short on allies, particularly on the female side. If that was the case, he’d better drop the leery innuendo and pretend he was back in front of his physics class.
    ‘You’re right,’ Rory said, sitting back down. ‘She
is
feeling the pressure. And Angus is too focused on the money to see what’s going on here. After “Do It to Julia” became such a hit, it would have been very easy for Heike to relaunch herself as a solo artist. The record company would have been far happier with a pretty young female to market rather than a pretty young female and a bunch of hairy-arsed musos. But she knew we had all played our part, and she’s not the kind of person who would ditch us when opportunity knocked. She’s been loyal to us, and I guess she’s entitled to ask plenty in return.’
    ‘Plus, if it goes wrong, she’s got the most to lose,’ I said.
    ‘See, that’s the crux,’ he stated. ‘We’ve
all
got a lot to lose. If this goes breests-up, I’ll be back teaching disinterested weans instead of touring the world and rubbing