Eighty Days Blue (18 page)

‘Classical music has always been about sex. And not just the women either.'

‘Fighting your way through the groupies, are you, to get back to your dressing room unscathed?'

‘I wouldn't go that far, but it can be a bit like that. I don't date much any more. I can never tell whether a woman is truly interested in me or just likes the idea of dating a man who leads an orchestra. And you? Did your English friend pay a visit to see you in concert?'

‘Yes. He's in New York for a few months, actually. We're living together.'

‘He moved quickly, then. Can't say I blame him.'

I stared at my shoes, avoiding Simón's gaze. ‘I should probably get back soon. He'll be wondering who I'm celebrating with.'

‘I suppose you should. Why didn't you invite him to join us? Tonight of all nights, you could probably have invited a troop of elephants backstage if you wanted to.'

‘I don't know,' I muttered. ‘Just seemed like something to keep separate. It's not a good idea to mix business and pleasure.'

‘Yes. I worked out your feelings on that point already . . . Now, before you disappear, there's someone I want you to talk to.'

He had pushed himself up to standing, and reached his arm down to help me up. I took hold of his palm and relaxed, letting him pull me to my feet, inhaling as he did so, enjoying the scent of his cologne. He'd piled it on thick tonight and had some kind of pomade in his hair, taking some of the frizz out of his curls and adding a light shine. With his glossy hair, black coat-tails and stiff white shirt, he looked like a magician from a travelling fair.

He pulled the door ajar and held it open for me politely so that I could walk ahead of him up the stairs, though I suspected that he was motivated more by voyeurism than good manners, as Dominik had informed me before I left the apartment that in the right light the back of the dress, which had no beading, was almost completely see-through, giving any onlooker a perfect view of my bare behind.

In the dull light at the top of the stairs, I saw a flash of bright pink, the only splash of colour in the corridor.

‘Looks like I was wrong about the anonymity of our hiding place,' Simón remarked. ‘You seem to have picked up a stalker already. She looks like the crazy type too.'

‘Simón,' I said, introducing them, ‘this is Cherry. Cherry, Simón.'

Cherry extended a hand politely. Despite her towering heels, Simón had to crouch to meet her hand with his own. She was wearing a bright-yellow satin cocktail dress and matching shoes, and with her shock of pink hair on top, she looked like something that had escaped from a nuclear power plant.

‘Don't tell me you're hiding from your fans, Summer?' she said. ‘You were incredible. You should be out front, basking in the glow.'

‘We were just finding a safe place for her violin,' Simón interrupted.

‘Right,' Cherry replied, her eyes darting between the two of us suspiciously.

‘And I'm afraid that I will have to steal your friend away again, as she needs to meet some of her admirers.'

He took my hand again and pulled me through another maze of corridors, to one of the bars, which was fortunately relatively quiet. I felt a little self-conscious, as the lights here were much brighter than the dim electrics backstage, and I was suddenly aware of my nudity beneath the thin slip of a dress, which on stage was all part of the show, but off stage might seem rather shocking. I kicked myself for not bringing a change of clothes. An amateur's mistake, which I wouldn't make again.

‘Remember the agent at my dinner party, Susan?' Simón hissed into my ear. ‘Now's your chance. Go and talk to her.'

I nodded as he put a hand on the small of my back and pushed me forward.

I leaned against the bar alongside her, as if I just happened to be there, waiting to buy a drink. She was elegantly put together, in a stylish but demure plum-coloured pencil dress and perfectly coiffeured hairdo, just the right look for someone who was half at work and half at play. Susan was a natural redhead, which I counted as another mark in her favour. She had a BlackBerry in hand and was furiously tapping away, as if oblivious to her surroundings, but her eyes lit up the moment she saw me.

‘Summer! I'm so glad that I bumped into you again. You were wonderful out there, an absolute triumph.'

‘Thank you. Er . . . I like your shoes.'

I berated myself for not thinking of something more intelligent to say before I approached her.

‘Oh, thank you. They're high-heeled boat shoes. I haven't seen any in New York. I bought these in London.'

I nodded.

‘Look, I'll get straight to the point. I know you must have legions of admirers waiting to congratulate you, and you're probably dying to get away from them all and get home, but I think you've really got something. I want to take your show on tour.'

‘On tour?' I gulped.

‘Yes. Just you and a few members of the string section. I think you've got just the right element of skill and sex appeal to pull off a solo act. And not just in America. I want to take you all over. Is that an Antipodean accent you have there?'

‘Yes, I'm from New Zealand originally, but lived in Australia for a little while too.'

‘Great. The local promoters Down Under will lap that up. They do seem to love anyone who has made it overseas and comes home for a visit.'

‘I would love a trip home,' I replied, ‘and anywhere else that you'd want to send me, of course,' I added quickly, emphasising my enthusiasm.

‘Good. That's settled, then. Don't go talking to any other promoters, will you? You can come into my office on Monday and we'll organise all of the paperwork.' She took a card from one of her pockets and slipped it into my hand. ‘This is a big deal, you know, Summer. You'll be relaxing in a beach house on Long Island before you know it.'

‘When would you want to begin?' I asked, dreading her response.

‘Now, of course. Time is absolutely of the essence in these situations. Did you see the crowd out there? You've got to ride the wave, because you never know when it might disappear again. The public are impossible to predict. You just never know what the next big thing is going to be. And it's you at the moment. Take advantage for as long as it lasts.'

‘OK. Thank you,' I said, careful to paint a smile onto my face. I felt overwhelmingly tired. I just wanted to go home to Dominik.

It was one in the morning by the time I got home. Dominik was already asleep. He had thrown the covers off, a point that I would remind him of in the morning, as he always complained that I kept stealing the blankets.

His white English skin looked even paler against the black sheets. He preferred his bedding the same colour as
Lauralynn's
, I remembered, and I had told him when he bought them that the colour was impractical and would soon be covered with stains. He bought them anyway, of course, though didn't put up a fight when I changed them over to a cream set of my own. We had reached an un-spoken agreement now and rotated between the two. I was just grateful that he didn't have a penchant for stripes or anything floral.

He slept naked, as I did, and he looked strangely vulnerable curled up on the bed without any covering at all. He lay almost in the foetal position, with one leg bent at a right angle, and the other leg straight, his flaccid cock on display. It looked small and shrunken, but still rather beautiful. I leaned over and stroked it very gently, surprised at the softness of his skin in this place that in my mind I always imagined permanently hard, a weapon, the seat of his power. I had never examined a man's cock when it was soft. It made me wonder what else about men, and Dominik in particular, that I had taken for granted.

I had been meaning to wake him up with a blowjob ever since we moved in together, but he inevitably woke up before me, leaving at least one and sometimes three cups of coffee going cold next to my side of the bed before I stirred.

His skin had been browner when we met, I was sure. Must have been a holiday, rather than the result of some Mediterranean heritage, I thought, dropping the dress to the floor and crawling under the covers that he had kicked away.

There was still so much I didn't know about him, so many things I had never asked.

I resolved to be a better girlfriend, starting tomorrow. At
least
, for as long as I could before I had to leave him alone in New York, as now seemed inevitable if I were to believe Susan.

In the event, it was Dominik who woke me with oral sex the next morning. I hadn't had a shower before I went to bed, and I pulled his hair gently with my hand as soon as I felt his head between my legs, endeavouring to dissuade his attentions until I had a chance to bathe. He batted me away and continued. There was no point arguing with Dominik, either silently or conversationally. Sometimes I thought he liked me more when I hadn't washed, as if it gave him a feeling of power to arouse me when I felt undesirable.

I had just begun to relax and enjoy the firm stroke of his tongue when he shifted himself up and kissed me.

‘My favourite breakfast,' he breathed into my ear. ‘You taste even better now that you're famous.'

I laughed. ‘Now you're just being ridiculous.'

‘No, I'm not. You should have seen the men in the audience. I reckon every single one of them had hard-ons by the final movement, especially your precious Simón.'

I bristled. ‘It's not like that.'

‘No,' he said, ‘I like it, that they want you. I can't blame any of them, and I'm the one who's got you, right where you belong.'

He shifted his pelvis up and lowered his cock into me. The feeling of him inside me, where his tongue had been just moments before, was enough to drive away every other thought in my head. I moaned with pleasure, fears about the future forgotten, as he took hold of both my wrists and held them tightly as he thrust, ignoring the sound of the headboard beating against the wall.

‘I suppose I need to be careful of your hands now,' he said. ‘Are you going to have them insured?'

He stifled my laugh with a kiss.

‘The missionary position is underrated,' I remarked, nestling under his arm, after he had come inside me. We'd both been through the rather unromantic but necessary rigmarole of discussing sexual histories and birth control. I had begun to enjoy the shocked response of sexual health doctors as I recited my relationship history. It was worth every moment of embarrassment to enjoy the feeling of Dominik's hot semen dribbling down my legs without any residual guilt or worry that there might one day be the pitter-patter of little feet, an eventuality that I was keen to avoid.

I left it a day before broaching the subject of the tour, at Toto, the sushi restaurant on Thompson Street that had become our regular port of call. I had figured that in public, and happy with the prospect of raw fish for dinner, Dominik might take to the idea more warmly.

I was wrong.

‘You're leaving?' he said, incredulous. ‘I've just arrived. We only have a few months together. Can't the tour wait?'

‘My agent says that time is of the essence.'

‘Oh, I bet he does.'

‘She,' I corrected.

He screwed up his paper napkin viciously. ‘Right. And what am I supposed to do while you're gone?'

His voice was calm, but I noticed that he was gripping his glass tightly.

‘Carry on with your research, I suppose. Look, the first few months aren't so far away. I'll be able to come back and
visit
easily, between concerts. I'll need to anyway, to change my clothes and things like that.'

‘Did it not occur to you to consult me before you decided all this? I didn't move here to be your laundromat, you know.'

‘I didn't mean it like that. I'll miss you, really, but don't you see I can't pass up an opportunity like this? It might never come round again.'

He sighed. ‘I know. I can see that,' he said, spearing another piece of fish with alarming violence. ‘It's just that it wasn't easy to arrange to come to New York, and the whole point of the exercise was so that we could spend some time together. I'm not particularly enjoying the research, you know, and I might point out that you haven't asked me how it's coming along, not even once.'

‘I'm sorry.'

‘OK. Fine. You have to go. Let's not quarrel now and ruin our remaining time together.'

We sat through the rest of the meal in silence. The sashimi, normally one of my favourite meals, stuck in my throat, and even a bottle of Asahi did nothing to wash it away.

The agent's office was a few blocks from Central Park. It was small but stylish, with bright fittings in primary colours and a series of plants dotted around, the sort of décor that a feng shui expert might recommend as the perfect blend of professionalism and friendliness to gain the trust of an inexperienced client. She had a dog, an old Bassett hound, which sat on the sofa across from me on a worn red cushion, staring at me through heavy-lidded eyes.

I found the presence of the dog comforting. I tend to
trust
people who own animals, particularly dogs. If I had known that Dominik didn't have pets before I arrived at his house in Hampstead, I might have held it against him. As it happened, though, we had already had sex by the time I visited him at home, so it was too late to include this character fault in my initial judgement.

I figured that Susan must be nice enough at least for the dog to want to hang around, which is why I gave up reading the ton of paperwork she gave me after the first few pages and just signed everything. It was all long words and percentages, nothing I saw that I had any real choice about. I was beyond lucky, I realised, to be in this position at all, and certainly not in any position to negotiate. That might come with my next tour, if this was a success. Aside from the dog, I trusted her instinctively. She was calculating, but genuine with it.