Chapter 30
When Sophie arrived, Damien was still in his silk pyjamas. He was on the phone.
‘Not enough. I want a bigger advance. Fuck you, Angus. I made you… I’ll self-publish if you keep on selling me short. Now piss off and do your job.’
‘Damien. What’s wrong with you?’ Sophie said. ‘You look and sound possessed. Why are you screaming at your agent like that?’
‘Sophie… don’t interfere.’ He shot her a blind, hateful glance. The blood rush turned his pale skin an angry purple.
Her eyes fell on the writing desk where the white powder was equally divided into ten lines.
‘How much have you had, Damien?’ she asked in a calm voice.
‘Enough to fire my gun at that bitch Elizabeth,’ he said, and moved towards the desk.
Sophie tried to pull him away, but he’d already taken the banknote and was about to sniff another line of coke when she pushed his arm aside and blew the white powder into a dust cloud that settled on the Persian carpet.
Damien fell to his knees. Nose to the ground, he moved across the rug like a hog searching for truffles.
‘For goodness’ sake, Damien – stop!’ Sophie took hold of his neck. ‘If this is what love does to you, better to just screw around.’
Damien shook his head violently from side to side. ‘Leave me alone! Don’t tell me what to do. You’re not my mother.’
Sophie held her grip. ‘Thank goodness I’m not. But I’m your friend and I love you.’
‘Don’t give me all that lovey-dovey talk.’ He crawled across the floor, dragging her with him.
‘Damien, behave. I’m not letting you go. You need to cool down.’
He turned to face her.
‘Why? What’s it to you? You’re not really interested in who I am. How do you think I feel always playing your therapist? Listening to your bullshit about a shitty little married man who sees you as a treat.’
‘Well,’ Sophie said. ‘Carry on. You can slag him off all you want. To tell you the truth it makes me feel better.’
They lay on the rug beside each other. Damien closed his eyes. Coaxing his breath to centre him. He inhaled deeply and then blew his breath out with a whoosh.
Here I am again , said the Voice. Have you missed me? It’s been a while, but you’ve been in no fit state to listen to my words of wisdom.
‘So what’s next for Nicholas and me?’ she asked.
Damien paused and shut his eyes. ‘Wait… it’s coming to me. Okay,’ he said, opening his eyes again. ‘Here’s the scenario. Mr Creep really yearned for some fiddle dee dee with Mistress Hanky Panky. There really wasn’t much going on at home. Bedtimes were boring. Too many years of same-old, same-old. He tried a couple of new tricks Mistress Hanky Panky taught him, but his wife was more interested in going to sleep. So it was lights out at ten and time for Mr Creep’s bedtime treat. He shut his eyes, fiddled with himself and thought of his beautiful Mistress Hanky Panky, conjuring up fond memories of those passionate nights… But of course he wants her back. Wants to stroke her smooth, silky flesh, taste her sweet, salty neck as they pleasure each other—’
Okay, Damien, slow down. Too many adjectives. Keep it clean. Keep calm , said the Voice.
Damien stopped short. ‘Anyway, Nicholas has all the luck. I don’t even have a fond memory. Elizabeth was always a bitch and now she’s fucking someone else. Talk about being a stupid prick. That’s me.’ He prodded his chest hard.
‘Come on,’ sighed Sophie. ‘You’re getting all fired up again. You need a cold shower.’
She helped him to his feet and holding his hand guided him up the stairs and into the bathroom. She pulled off his pyjama top and pushed him into the shower.
He wanted to pull her in with him, but he didn’t.
She switched on the cold water and he screamed.
‘What the hell are you doing? Are you trying to give me hypothermia?’
Sophie was wet herself, but she was determined to get Damien back into the world.
‘Calm down,’ she said. ‘You need this.’
‘Sure, like a hole in the head.’
Damien banged his shoulder against the tiled wall of the cubicle and let the icy water waken him.
Sophie looked at the fallen angel. She wanted to save him. He was shaking.
‘Can you turn off the water, Damien?’ she asked, and he twisted the tap, his hands slipping.
She grabbed a towel and, wrapping it round him, rubbed him dry. They were very close. She patted his damp cheek.
‘Why are we punishing ourselves?’ he whispered. ‘I’ve been shafted by Miss Ice Queen Elizabeth, who grabbed me by the balls, and you’re still in love with Mr Creep. Admit it. You’re wavering. One more wag of his finger and you’re back.’
‘Not true.’
‘Come on, Sophie, admit it.’
‘No. I’ve had enough. I’m moving on.’
‘Lucky you. My problem is I’m still obsessed with Elizabeth.’
‘Is it love or passion?’ Sophie said.
‘I don’t know.’ He looked at Sophie like a little boy, his eyes unfocused as she put his pyjama top back on him.
‘I’m really ashamed, Sophie,’ he said. ‘I’ve behaved like a pillock. Letting her kick me in the balls.’
Sophie couldn’t help but smile. ‘Pillock! You really are hilarious, Damien. Come on now. You need to rest.’
Sophie took him to bed, tucked him in and kissed him on his forehead. His skin tasted damp and salty.
‘You’re still sweating.’ She passed him the glass of water on the bedside table. ‘Drink up.’ He obediently gulped it down and she refilled his glass from the jug.
‘So shall we call it a day?’ she said.
Now don’t get any ideas. You’re in no shape to perform , warned the Voice.
‘Yes. I don’t think either of us is ready to begin again.’