Warhol's Prophecy

‘Oh, come on, Jim. You don’t usually employ your PAs for their typing skills.’

‘You’re still the only one who’s had it all, Hailey. Looks, brains, and the same sort of work ethic as me. You get the job done.’

‘Jim, you can stop the bullshit now. I’m back, OK?’ She sat down behind her desk after he stood up and moved to the other side of the room. ‘Just don’t forget: it’s only part-time. No more trips away. No more working until midnight.’

He held up his hands. ‘I hear you.’

‘So, what’s first on the agenda?’

‘Well, I thought I’d give you a few hours to settle in, get the feel of the place again. You might have become a bit rusty.’

She raised an eyebrow.

Marsh smiled. ‘All right,’ he said, ‘here’s the deal. Have you heard of a band called Waterhole? They’ve just released an album called Playing with Andy Warhol, whatever the hell that means. Advance sales are huge.’

‘I’d have to have been living in a cave on the moon not to have heard of them.’

‘Right. Well, as you know, in less than a month it’s the twenty-fifth anniversary of the founding of SuperSounds, and I’ve managed to negotiate a deal with Waterhole to play a gig locally in celebration. They use only our gear.’ He sat down in one of the high-backed chairs, after pulling it closer to her desk. ‘That’s high-profile. The advance ticket sales are over ten thousand already, and they’ll be double that by the time the gig takes place. All the proceeds go to charity.’

‘So where do I come into all this?’ Hailey wanted to know.

‘They’re a big band, Hailey. About the biggest there is at the moment. The only problem is they’re arseholes. I know they haven’t exactly got the monopoly on that in the music business, but these guys have raised being pricks into an art form.’

‘Yes, I’ve read all about them. Didn’t one of them get arrested last week?’

‘For decking a journalist at some showbiz party. The guy was just taking pictures and the guitarist got the hump and broke his nose.’ Marsh shrugged. ‘I think that dozy slag he’s going out with objected to the intrusion.’ He shook his head.

‘They’re in Canada at the moment, aren’t they?’

‘They fly back tomorrow. They’ve been in trouble out there, too: mouthing off about the Royals and shit like that. Very original. They want to be the new wild men of rock, but they’re only playing at it. Sticking two fingers up at cameramen and spitting at your own fans doesn’t make you the new Sex Pistols. Try biting the heads off a few bats, driving cars into swimming pools, or lobbing TVs out of hotel windows – that’s more like it.’ He grinned.

‘So what do I do with them?’ she wanted to know.

‘You liaise with their press office and their record company, make sure this gig goes off without any hitches. With all the proceeds going to charity, I’ve managed to get some local big nobs involved too. The local MP is going to attend. And we’ve got a big party lined up too, after the gig. Yours truly gets to present the cheque to the heads of the chosen charities. I need you to work closely with them, too.’

She nodded.

‘So, let me get started,’ she said. ‘By the way, Jim, what about getting one of the guitarists from Waterhole to donate a signed guitar after the gig, for auction? You could raffle it at this party you’re having. I’m sure those local dignitaries would be only too happy to fork out for it. Especially as the money is going to charity. It’ll make whoever buys it look good too, won’t it?’

‘And you wonder why I wanted you back?’ Marsh grinned.

He turned and headed towards the door.

‘All the info you need is on the computer,’ he added. ‘Any problems, give me a shout.’ He paused at the entrance. ‘Thanks again, Hailey.’

‘Thank me when it’s all over,’ she said, smiling.

He closed the door, leaving her alone in the office.

33

THE PUBLIC BAR of the Tawny Owl was relatively empty for a lunchtime. The smell of liquor mingled with the odours of food; the sound of a dozen conversations competed with music from the jukebox.

Rob Gibson sat back in his seat, glancing around, tapping one finger on the table as he listened to the music.

‘. . . I’m all out of faith, this is how I feel . . .’

He saw Frank Burnside paying for the drinks, then make his way carefully back through the light crowd of customers towards their table.

‘. . . I’m cold and I am shamed, lying naked on the floor . . .’

Burnside set down the two glasses of Jameson’s, and seated himself opposite his partner.

‘. . . Illusion never changed, into something real . . .’

‘Maggie would go mad if she could see me drinking.’ Burnside smiled.

‘Oh, come on, Frank,’ Rob protested. ‘If you can’t have a drink to celebrate becoming a father, when can you?’

‘I suppose you’re right.’

‘Of course I’m right. Get it down you. And congratulations. When’s it due again?’

‘November. I didn’t want to say anything until we were sure this time – after Maggie lost the last one. And neither of us is getting any younger.’

‘Cheers, Dad,’ chuckled Rob, raising his glass in salute.

The two men drank.

‘I remember when Hailey got pregnant,’ Rob mused. ‘I felt like a kid with a new toy. I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy. She moaned because I wouldn’t touch her, but I was scared of hurting the baby. And when Becky was born . . .’ He allowed the sentence to trail off. ‘She was born by Caesarean. I was the first one to hold her. I couldn’t believe it. Hailey and I just looked at each other and burst into tears. When I was ringing people afterwards, I kept crying too. I think it’s relief as much as anything. You know that they’re all right, they’re healthy. It’s like the wait’s been worth it.’

‘How are things between the two of you now?’ Burnside wanted to know. ‘If you don’t mind me asking?’

‘It’s still difficult,’ said Rob. ‘It’s been worse since I got back from Manchester. She started work again today, too.’

‘Well, that’s good, isn’t it?’

The look on Rob’s face told Burnside that it wasn’t.

‘She claims it’s only part-time, but I know what she’s like. She loved that job. If Marsh asks her to put in a few extra hours, she’ll do it.’

‘What’s the problem?’

‘I don’t want her working too many hours. I don’t want her with him any more than she needs to be.’ He sipped his Jameson’s.

‘Why?’

‘He fancies her – I’m not stupid. When they used to go away together on business, I reckon he had a crack at her. He might even have fucked her.’

‘Come on, Rob, don’t you trust her? Hailey wouldn’t do anything like that.’

‘How do you know, Frank?’

Burnside looked at him evenly, then took a sip of his own drink.

‘She might feel that she wants to get back at me now, especially after what happened with Sandy. If Marsh comes on to her again, she might just go for it. Just to get back at me.’

‘How old’s the guy? I thought he was in his fifties.’