Read Online Dead Girl Walking by Christopher Brookmyre - Free Book Online Page B

to the dressing room as though it was a tunnel with a moving walkway. I was aware of voices, laughter, arms around shoulders. I had never felt so close to a group of people, so much a part of something amazing, and yet another side of me wanted to be alone, given space to deal with my emotions.
    I think I must have been standing there looking a little dazed, because Damien was so soft-spoken and delicate with me. He gave me a bottle of beer and said nothing for a while as we both drank. Saying nothing seemed like the best way of expressing what we had just experienced.
    Then finally he spoke.
    ‘You felt it, didn’t you?’ he asked. He didn’t wait for my reply. ‘That’s why we do this. That’s why we put in the hours we do and why we put up with all each other’s shite. Because only together can we make
that
happen. Hold on to the feeling, because it’s the thought of having it again that’s going to pull you through when the going gets rough. And believe me, you’ve no idea how rough it can get.’
    Heike stopped talking to Scott and came over and hugged me. She was drenched in sweat, which was when I realised I was too. Heike’s sweat smelled fresh, like she had been out running. There were other smells in there too: body spray and shampoo. I breathed them in and didn’t want her to let go.
    When she did she told me: ‘You were amazing.’
    I wanted to say ‘you were too’ but was tongue-tied.
    Over her shoulder I saw Rory, leaning against the wall. He glanced back, raising his bottle in salute. He had a smile on his face, calm and unreadable; not that it would stop me from reading things into it. I had the most vivid fear that he knew what had gone through my mind. I knew this was daft, but the moment had been intense enough to make me believe some very strange things were possible.
    A voice in my head told me to phone Keith. I needed to centre myself, or maybe ground myself was more like it, given the electrified sensations I had experienced on the stage.
    I reached inside my jacket for my phone, but something stopped me as I swiped the handset awake. When I’d called after orchestra shows, I’d wanted to tell Keith all about it, to share my experience. This time I had been driven by a fearful instinct to place myself back outside of this.
    Holding the phone in my hand, I realised I didn’t want to do that. I didn’t want to share it with him. He wasn’t part of this, and nobody who wasn’t part of this could understand it.
    I put the phone back in my pocket, downed what remained in my bottle and picked up another, clinking it against one Scott was holding up.

Loyalty
    As he walked towards his car, Parlabane heard a voice call for him to wait. He turned to see Damien striding across from a huddle of musicians who had gathered outside for a smoke.
    If he hadn’t looked up his details online, Parlabane wouldn’t have guessed him even close to his late thirties. It wasn’t just how he dressed, but something about his manner that seemed buoyant, optimistic. Maybe that was how he’d managed to carve out one more chance at the big time after already having had a couple of near misses.
    He looked rather serious right now, though.
    ‘I just wanted to check,’ Damien said. ‘Did I hear you say you were interviewing Heike for this piece as well?’
    He was looking Parlabane in the eye, crows’ feet around the edges of an intense gaze that betrayed his true years. They also betrayed that Parlabane was being closely scrutinised.
    ‘That’s right. Monica as well, though I gather she’s maybe not the best disposed towards my profession.’
    Damien ignored this attempt to divert the focus.
    ‘When you meeting Heike?’
    Interesting.
    ‘Mairi’s still working out the fine details, to be honest. I need to file before you guys head to the US, so it’s not urgent, but sooner would be better. Maybe you could put a word in, say I don’t bite. When are
you
seeing her?’
    ‘I’m not sure,’ he