Eighty Days Red (17 page)

When they woke in the morning, bruised and spent, both emotionally and physically, Summer frantically realised she barely had enough time to get back to her own hotel and pack up for the next leg of the European tour with the band. She couldn’t keep the others waiting. By now, all the equipment would have been loaded onto the specially hired coach. There was still the matter of the missing violin to discuss, they realised.

‘Another time,’ they agreed, both dressing hastily. As she ran out of the door, blowing him a perfunctory kiss, Dominik felt gutted they hadn’t found the occasion to speak properly this morning.

About what had just happened. And then he glanced at his watch and noted that he barely had an hour left before his own train at the Gare du Nord and the journey back to London.

9
Girls Together

I made it to the tour bus in the nick of time.
‘Christ, Sum, you like to cut it fine,’ Chris said, as I leaped onboard.
Fran shot me a worried look, and I shook my head slightly in return, a silent gesture to

indicate that I was OK, and please could she not mention it.

She and Chris were sitting next to each other. She was curled up with her head on his shoulder, and they both dozed off minutes after we got on the road. Ella and Ted were both already asleep and so was Marija. Baldo and Alex smiled at me and waved a friendly greeting but they both looked as rough as I felt. It must have been a long night for all of us.

I wondered what they’d got up to. I didn’t want to think about my sister’s interests, and couldn’t imagine Chris being the swinging sort. He was a one woman kind of guy. Ella and Ted were friendly enough but they didn’t gossip about their personal lives and I didn’t even know whether they were straight, gay, bi, dating each other or asexual. Marija and Baldo were certainly both creatures of passion. When we had lived together, rarely had a night or a morning gone by when I hadn’t fallen asleep or woken up to the sounds of their noisy lovemaking. Whether or not they would feel comfortable making their affection for each other as public as it might be at Les Chandelles, the famous French swinging joint, I had no idea. As for Alex, I could only imagine that he had gone home feeling ill at the thought of his parents partying in that manner, but maybe he was more open-minded than I gave him credit for. It was something I’d be interested in talking about maybe with Marija, or Edward and Clarissa. But not right now.

I was still wearing yesterday’s clothes. I hadn’t even had time for a shower, never mind doing my hair and make-up. I’d slept late, soothed and wrapped up in the contentment of lying alongside Dominik.

We’d barely talked. Just hadn’t had the time. We’d spent the night in bed together and that had been wonderful, as it always was. We had fitted into each other as if we’d never been apart, slipped into our own, very personal brand of lovemaking without a word.

But I hadn’t had a chance to tell him how I felt. Or even to work out how I felt. I’d had to dress, kiss him goodbye and race for the coach as though my life depended on it, and now that I was settled in for the long ride to Brussels with little to distract me besides the occasional chatter from my bandmates whenever they roused, new scenes rushing by the windows as we passed through towns and cities, all I could think about was Dominik.

My lips were still tender from the viciousness of his kisses, not to mention my nipples which were both swollen and sore, and which bore some slight bruising where his teeth had grazed my skin. I was still wet, as I’d begun thinking about going back to his bed as soon as I’d left it, and along with the physical aches and sadness I was filled with a desire to be with him that I doubted would never be sated, at least while we were apart.

I wanted to push the feelings out of my head somehow, to get into a swimming pool and thrash out lap after lap, or to put on my running shoes and tear along footpaths until the pain in my body cancelled out the pain in my heart. But it was no good, I was stuck on a comfortable seat for the next five hours. Not long enough to sleep, and too long to sit quietly without any distraction. I wished I’d thought to strap myself into the corset tightly under my T-shirt again. The discomfort in that would have blunted the terrible longing that tore me like a constant scream.

I hadn’t even asked him about the Bailly. Truth be told, I wanted Dominik more than I wanted the violin back. I’d have lost the Bailly a thousand times over to have another chance with him. If I could have made a pact with the devil at that moment, I’d have sold my soul to him and destroyed the violin with my own hands, if it would bring Dominik back.

But it was no good. He was on his way to London, and to Lauralynn. Knowing them both as I did, they must have an open relationship. I couldn’t see Lauralynn settling down, and though Dominik never seemed able to quite release his jealousy, he had a fiercely independent streak. I doubted that he would agree to a monogamous relationship with anyone. Nonetheless, I wished I knew what our night together had meant to him. Lauralynn didn’t have a submissive streak in her body, so perhaps it had been a chance for him to top someone who appreciated it. A fling with an old playmate, and nothing more. I wondered if he’d tell Lauralynn, if they’d laugh at me together and reminisce fondly about the silly fiddler they both once knew who liked her sex hard and rough and didn’t appear to have a romantic bone in her body. Well, I did, but only for the right person, and that right person was Dominik. Without him, I might be reduced to relationships like the kind that I had with Simón for the rest of my life. Friendship, and nothing more. I didn’t want to hurt anyone again the way that I had hurt Simón, so had no plans to try my hand on the dating scene.

Luba had seemed rather interested in Dominik, and I’d been so enormously thankful that he hadn’t wanted to pursue her, or to go to the swingers’ club. Sharing him with another was the last thing I wanted to do right now, while whatever connection we had left still felt so uncertain, so fragile. Even if he hadn’t wanted to spend time with me, seeing him with someone else would have broken my heart.

We were playing again that night; another gig, another city. I pulled my running shoes on as soon as we stepped into the hotel, caught the Métro to the city centre and took a spin around the Parc de Bruxelles, past the palace and the embassies, drumming all the tension that had gathered during the journey into the pavement.

When Dominik rang, I almost didn’t answer. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to speak to him. Quite the opposite. I wished I could capture the sound of his voice and replay it in my mind over and over, but I was afraid of what he might say, and what I might say in return. We had so much to talk about and I’ve never been good on the phone – something about the lack of his physical presence made my thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind and my feelings so difficult to articulate.

Between the two of us, we barely managed a couple of minutes of conversation, and nothing which settled anything, or hinted at how we might continue our relationship, or if there was a relationship left to continue. He was on his way to Spain to promote his book about Elena. He had some news about the violin which suggested that Viggo might be behind the theft. In a way I wasn’t surprised. I had always had a nagging suspicion. But I was so morose about Dominik that the loss of the violin had just combined with my loss of Dominik, and my longing for them both formed one angry ball inside me, a depression that I couldn’t shake.

I didn’t know where to begin with Viggo. Any way I looked at it, I was in a hole that I wouldn’t be able to dig myself out of in a hurry. If I upset him, he might pull the plug on his support of Groucho Nights, and then I’d be responsible for Chris’s dreams going down the toilet. If I didn’t do anything, I might lose the Bailly for ever. And if I continued to ask Dominik for his help, he’d be stuck with the knowledge that I was sleeping with the guy who had stolen his gift to me.

I didn’t sleep a wink that night. Just lay awake, staring at the bland walls of the hotel room and hoping that an idea would come to me that might solve all my problems, but it didn’t. For perhaps one of the first times in my life, I was up early with my running shoes on again, wearing my frustrations out through my feet, slowing to a walk when my shins began to throb. I didn’t mind the pain, it kept my mind off Dominik, but fear of getting shin splints and having to rest for a month or more reduced my exertions to a more sensible pace.

This time I remembered to lace the corset on for the journey. Another eight hours by coach to Berlin.

It was early evening by the time we pulled into Berlin. We were staying in Neukölln, near the Festsaal Kreuzberg where our first gig was taking place the following night. Berlin was the first city that we’d been booked two nights running to play. Susan had somehow managed to get one of Grayson’s pictures of me into a couple of popular German music mags, a shot that was just on the right side of risqué, with me holding a violin seductively whilst clad in Fran’s wet-look leggings and leather jacket and my studded Louboutins. My solo music had already been popular here, and Groucho Nights’ promised mix of classical, sex and rock ’n’ roll had proved a winning combination, and a sell-out.

Consequently, the band was in a good mood and we’d booked a short break and a few extra nights in the city, the first time on the tour any of us would really have a chance to look around like proper tourists, rather than just play and then ship out to the next destination.

Fran, frugal as ever, had booked us into a budget hotel with a secure storage facility for the gear we couldn’t leave in the van overnight. The hotel was down a fairly quiet, mainly residential street, opposite a winding canal where swans floated by peacefully and pairs of lovers walked hand in hand under the trees. The smell of pastry, meat and spices wafted like a cloud from the Turkish restaurant next door.

I fell into bed as soon as we checked in and slept properly that night for the first time in as long as I could remember. Perhaps it was the memory of Dominik’s voice, or the thought that I might see him again, and that we might at least manage to be friends that lulled me into relaxation.

The place that we were playing was on a road beneath a railway bridge, opposite a car dealership. From the outside it was nondescript, just a small sign advertised the name. But by the time we were due on, the whole joint was heaving. It was standing-room only, and so many people had managed to pile into the upstairs balcony that I worried the whole thing was going to fall down on our heads. We’d had some problems with the soundcheck, and were a little late starting. By the time we walked out onto the stage, the audience were stamping their feet and screaming their heads off.

It was the first night that we’d run out of our planned encores and had to pull an extra number out of the bag before they’d let us off stage again.
We’d packed up all the gear and were making plans to head out on the town when I heard a familiar voice calling out across the front courtyard.
‘Hello, stranger.’
I swung around at the sound of the sultry New York accent.
It was Lauralynn, standing dressed in her trademark skin-tight jeans, a plain white T-shirt and stiletto heels. She was obviously bra-less. She must have been the only woman I knew to go out in public without one, but it appeared that where I went to the other extreme, enjoying the restriction of a corset, Lauralynn liked the freedom of absence from constraints, and also the reaction she drew from passers-by who had a clear view of her pierced nipples. She had the sort of breasts that look good even without the support of a bra, and I was a little envious.
Initially I was elated that a familiar face had travelled this far to see us in action, but my elation turned to confusion and fear when I remembered that she was dating Dominik, who I’d spent the night with in a hotel in Paris a few nights earlier.
The expression on Lauralynn’s face certainly didn’t suggest that she was here in anger to accuse me of stealing her man. If anything, she looked delighted to see me. I didn’t know what to say, or do, so I just stood there, mouth agape, staring at her.
‘Jeez,’ she said, ‘I always thought you were a cold fish, but are you going to just stand there?’
‘Sorry,’ I said, ‘you took me by surprise. Thanks for coming to see the show.’
She wrapped her arms around me and held me against her, so that I could feel her breasts pushing up against mine.
‘You were amazing,’ she said. ‘Who would have thought Dominik’s classical gal would turn into a rock chick, huh?’
‘Dominik’s girl?’
‘Yeah, where is the man in question? I thought he’d be in the front row cheering you on. I’ve been keeping my eyes peeled for him all night.’
‘You thought he was here with me? I’d assumed he was in London with you,’ I added, confused.
‘No. I’ve been away. Got home and found the house empty so I came looking. Never been a fan of my own company,’ she said, giving my arm another squeeze as if to check that I was real. ‘Don’t tell me he went all the way to Paris and still didn’t tell you that he’s madly in love with you?’
‘What are you talking about? I thought he was dating you?’
‘Christ, no. We’re just old friends … well, friends with benefits might be a better description. I don’t mind the male creatures, you know, they can be charming, and Dominik has certain very useful talents.’ She winked flirtatiously at me when she said this. ‘But they’re not really my type long term. Unless they’re under my stilettos. They can make good pets if you train them properly, but I wouldn’t keep one for ever.’
This news nearly made my knees buckle beneath me. I sank down onto one of the outdoor picnic tables, and Lauralynn crouched down to meet my eyes, her long legs folding under her like a grasshopper’s.
‘You really thought we were dating?’ she asked, more kindly this time, stroking a lock of my hair away from my face so she could look me in the eyes.
‘Yes, Dominik told me you were.’
‘And I suppose you told him that you’re dating that rock star I hear you’ve been hanging about with?’
‘Yes, I did.’
‘You two drive me crazy, you know that. Both as proud as punch and blind as bats. When I heard that he was going to Paris to watch your opening night I thought he’d finally seen sense, but I guess I should have known better.’
Lauralynn not dating Dominik. That changed everything. But why on earth did he tell me he was? Because I’d told him that I was spending my nights with Viggo Franck, if he hadn’t already read it in the gossip columns. I cursed myself again for that wilful stubborn streak that was always getting me into trouble, and my total inability to make people realise how much I cared about them. Why couldn’t I have just told him how I felt?
I sank over further, holding my head in my hands as if I could somehow rewind time if I concentrated hard enough.
‘Right,’ said Lauralynn. I recognised the narrowing of her eyes, and the tone of her voice. She had switched into her domme mode. I envied that part of her too, she’d always been secure in herself and her desires. She didn’t seem to lose a minute’s sleep over the type of person she had become and why. She just enjoyed herself.
‘You’re going to have to pull yourself together, or I’m going to do it for you, and we can’t stay here all night. Where’s the rest of your band gone?’
‘Party in the dressing rooms most likely, or back at the hotel. They won’t miss me though.’
‘Don’t act so sorry for yourself. Tell them you’ve bumped into an old friend so they don’t think you’ve been kidnapped by a crazed fan, and let’s go and have a drink, and you can tell me all your woes.’
She took my arm in hers and steered me out of the bar onto the streets of Kreuzberg. It was still reasonably early for northern Europe. Unlike Londoners, Berliners didn’t have last tubes to race for at midnight or pubs that closed at eleven, so most of the parties wouldn’t get started until midnight at the earliest, and they wouldn’t really get going until 2 a.m. All I wanted to do was go home and sleep, curl into a ball and indulge in my misery.
‘First,’ she said, ‘food. It’s much harder to feel miserable on a full stomach.’
We walked up to the late-night takeaway bar on the corner by the canal, and Lauralynn ordered pizza, two currywursts, and a serving of curly frites.
‘Don’t screw up your nose,’ she said, as I questioned the wisdom of pouring curry sauce over a hot dog sausage, ‘these are delicious.’
She was right. The food was good, warming, and put me in a much better mood.
‘So,’ I said. ‘Tell me everything. Why are you here in Berlin? Did you come all this way to see me?’
‘I had to take off home in a hurry. My brother hasn’t been well, so I went back to New York for a few weeks.’
‘Oh. Sorry to hear that.’
Lauralynn shrugged. She was picking her frites up three at a time and using them as a scoop to scrape the remaining curry sauce from her plate. I was too upset to eat much, but managed most of my sausage. The sauce was a strange mixture of curry flavouring and sweetness, more sugar than spice, but it worked, somehow.
‘Family stuff. All sorted now though. I got a couple of emails from Dominik while I was away. You two are remarkably alike, you know, both miserable sods if left to your own devices, so I keep an eye on him.’ She was staring at me with her piercing blue eyes, trying to read my response. I was hanging on her every word, wishing she’d get to the point and tell me more about Dominik.
She took a long sip of her cola, leaving the end of her straw reddened with lipstick, and continued. ‘He mentioned some stuff about your violin, and the novel that he’s been working on. He’s had terrible trouble with that too, you know. The first one was a breeze, when he was writing about you. Now that he’s been writing about your violin, he seems to be flying again. Doesn’t that tell you something?’
I stared at her, uncomprehending. ‘I guessed he just needed a female character to make it work, and I was the first one that came to mind.’
‘Exactly. You were the first one who came to mind. He’s spent two years thinking about you every day. And he still can’t get you out of his head.’
‘I haven’t stopped thinking about him, either,’ I replied morosely, stuffing in a handful of frites, although I’d stopped feeling hungry after the first couple of mouthfuls. They looked a little like onion rings, only redder, as if they were coated in paprika.
‘Tell me something then,’ she said, wiping her fingers thoroughly on a napkin. She had painted her nails blood red, to match her lipstick.
‘Yes?’
‘Why don’t you just tell him? Tell him that you’re in love with him?’
‘I don’t know … I … I know how he likes to be in control. I didn’t want to be the one to say it.’
‘Bullshit. This isn’t about control. And you’ve got to be the least submissive sub I’ve ever met. More of a bottom, really.’
‘A bottom?’
‘Yes. You just get your thrills out of being topped, being dominated, with or without the emotional connection. It’s just how you like your sex.’
‘I suppose so. But it doesn’t feel the same with anyone other than Dominik. With other people it’s just … sex. With Dominik, it’s something more.’
‘That’s just what it’s like to fuck someone that you’re in love with. Haven’t you ever been in love?’
I thought about it. Viggo, Simón, Darren. Will, a boyfriend I’d had in New Zealand, before moving overseas. The most I could say was that I’d been very fond of them. Simón, I thought I had really loved. But sexually we didn’t have the same connection, so at times he felt more like a brother than a lover.
‘No, I don’t think I have.’
She shook her head from side to side in disbelief.
‘No wonder that you’re a bit emotionally stunted then, I suppose,’ she sighed.
She stared down at her empty plate regretfully, and then over at my leftovers. ‘Waste not, want not,’ she added, skewering the remains of my sausage on her fork.
‘How long are you staying in Berlin?’ I asked her, hoping to get the subject off me and my love life.
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I haven’t booked a hotel yet. I took the first flight I could find when I found the house in Hampstead vacant. Couldn’t face being at home alone. I presumed Dominik had followed you here. Thought I could bunk in with your band or just party the night away, save on accommodation. I spent last night with a girl I picked up at Roses, that was fun, but I didn’t get her number.’
She glanced up and winked at me over the last mouthful of currywurst. ‘Now that I’ve seen the state you’re in, I can hardly leave you here all alone, can I?’
‘I can look after myself,’ I replied, beginning to bristle.
‘That’s exactly the problem with you, Summer, you’re too proud, and too ready to look after yourself. You need to learn to let people into that hard shell of yours. I’m sure there’s a softie hiding under the bristly exterior.’
‘Well, you can stay with me, I’ve got a double bed, in a hotel just round the corner.’
‘That’ll do me fine,’ she said, grinning wickedly. ‘But I don’t think there’s any need to turn in just yet. Berlin is party central. I’ve done all the bars on this side of town but there’s another place I want to try, just a cab ride away.’
‘I’m really not in the mood to party.’
‘You’re as bad as Dominik. Never wants to go out either, and when he does it’s for a soft drink. Humour me. Nothing serious. Just a dance and a drink, it’ll take your mind off your woes.’
Lauralynn was like a train headed full speed down a track once she got started, and I didn’t have the energy to talk her out of it, so agreed to tag along, though it was already close to one in the morning.
‘You can sleep when you’re dead,’ she replied when I reminded her of the time. Lauralynn didn’t wheedle, she ordered, and I could feel my defences beginning to drop under the weight of her commands.
‘I have nothing to wear,’ I protested pitifully.
She narrowed her eyes as though she had X-ray vision and assessed me from head to toe.
‘Do you have a corset on under that dress?’
‘Yes, but not one I want to wear in public.’
She ignored my response.
‘And those are thigh-length boots?’
I nodded miserably.
‘That’ll be just perfect.’
She led me across the street and flagged down a taxi.
I didn’t catch the address that she gave to the driver, just the name of the bar: Insomnia.
‘You speak German?’
‘Not very well. But well enough to get around. I did a student exchange for a few months in Berlin when I was in high school … I wasn’t old enough to get into the best clubs then, but I was tall enough to fool some of the bouncers.’