Page 43 of Secrets at the Little Music Shop

Then Rosie’s words hit me. Good friend. Oh, my God. Of course . . .

Chapter Fourteen

It wasn’t the volume of the music that made my head ring, it was the insistent bass. It echoed through me like a second heart beat and rendered everything in the club dreamlike, although that could have been the barely-there lighting. I bought myself a drink and held it in front of me like a glass wall, lounging awkwardly against a pillar and scanning the dance floor.

Opposite the bar was the DJ booth surrounded by girls looking available. Its glass was tinted and the music was continuous so I couldn’t tell if the DJ was there. I wished I’d brought Jason. He might be a complete plonker, but he had the knack of looking at ease anywhere and it might have stopped me looking like a woman in search of a man. Which I was, but it was a particular man, not any of these designer-clad guys, with their smooth taste in shirts and their labels flapping.

I began to sidle around the walls heading for the far side of the club. Hidden speakers vibrated my lungs with volume and the perpetual techno-trance music scraped across my nerve endings. Finally I reached the DJ booth and looked in from behind, at the back of a blond man in a white shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows. He swivelled so I could see he had an earpiece in, and his eyes closed and was singing to something that bore no resemblance to the beat that was pumping out onto the dance floor. Two burly black men with radios stood either side and a rope barrier prevented the peasants from gaining entry.

‘Excuse me.’ I approached one of them, yelling above the music. ‘Could I speak to the DJ, please?’

Dark eyes focused on my face. I gave my winningest smile, lots of teeth and lips.

‘Whatcha want?’

‘A request?’ I had no idea whether DJ’s still played requests. I’d been out of circulation too long.

A grunt and the bodyguard folded his arms in front of his body, settling himself further into the floor. ‘He dun’t do requests.’

Now I really wished I’d brought Jason. He knew the etiquette for situations like this. Well, maybe etiquette was too strong a word, perhaps violence was a better term. ‘I only want to have a word with him.’

Another grunt. ‘Join the queue.’ A vast head nodded towards the girls, still stationary-jogging, although not one breast moved between the lot of them.

This was stupid. I hadn’t paid fifteen pounds to come in here and then another seven-fifty for a weak vodka only to be told I had to get behind a bunch of teenagers. I waited until the guard had switched back into resting mode then ducked under the rope and banged on the glass wall. ‘Oy, Zafe!’

Three sets of eyes instantly focused my way and two extremely large sets of arms came bearing down on me, grabbed me none too gently and started to drag me backwards, heels skittering out from beneath me. Inside his booth the DJ was already losing interest, sliding back under his music again. I did the only thing a girl down on the floor surrounded by enormous men could do. I lifted the hem of my top and flashed my boobs.

‘Oh, bloody hell,’ one of the bodyguards exclaimed. ‘That’s all we need. Put ’em away love, nobody’s interested.’

But someone was. Perhaps it was because I’d taken the precaution of writing ‘Baz needs your help’ in eye pencil right across my breasts, with my nipples standing in for ‘e’s.

* * *

Zafe sat on an empty beer crate while I squatted uncomfortably on a broken stool in a tiny office at the back of the club. He lit a cigarette.

‘You do know I’ve got absolutely no reason to tell you anything?’ He blew smoke. ‘That bastard dropped us all in the shit back in Philly.’

‘Yes, I know. But you were friends once. And honestly, Zafe, you can’t feel nearly as badly about him as he does about himself. You should have seen him when he found out the band was reforming.’

Zafe shrugged. His shoulders had filled out considerably since his days in Willow Down, in the pictures he’d looked almost fragile, now he looked like a rugby player. Still as blond, though, and with those same beautiful cat-like eyes. ‘Yeah, well.’ He sounded almost ashamed. ‘I’m still not convinced that’s a great move but the management . . . hey, not your problem.’ Another puff of smoke. ‘So, you’re what? Baz’s new woman?’

‘No. Absolutely not.’ I cupped my hands around my knees to stop the stool rocking. ‘He’s a friend, that’s all.’

Sapphire eyes slithered across my chest, now properly covered once more. ‘Hell of a length to go to for a friend, flashing your 36Ds at the whole club,’ he said dryly. Another mouthful of smoke threatened to obscure the single bare bulb swinging from the low ceiling. Money clearly all went on front of house. ‘Look love, Baz was brilliant back in the day. Best lead I ever played with. But he was — how can I put it? Erratic. Bit fond of the old marching powder, know what I mean? Just before we went to the States on that final tour he took three months out getting his head straight, cleaning up his act, all that kinda thing. But when we got out there — it was like he just lost it. One night he’s playing like he’s got the devil himself in his soul and the next — pow, he’s outta there so fast the band didn’t know he’d gone ’til next day. Woke up and he’s not on the tour bus, he’s not with some girl, he’s just . . .’ Zafe broke off and rubbed at his arms as though something had walked over his skin under his pale jacket. ‘Bastard,’ he finished.

‘Where did he go?’

He pulled a face. ‘Dunno. Didn’t even know he was back in York until you just told me. He’s not been in touch. No calls, nothing. I tried . . .’ He broke off and sucked hard on the cigarette for a moment. ‘I was his friend and he wouldn’t talk to me about what was going off in his life. Shut me out. Wouldn’t take my calls, nothing. I went everywhere I could think of, hung out in some of our old dives, all his favourite places, no-one knew a thing, no-one had seen him. Knocked on more doors than a Jehovah’s Witness that year.’

‘Is there anywhere you can think of that he might have run to?’ I was gripping my hands tighter around my knees, could feel my nails digging under my kneecaps.

‘You tried the house, right?’

‘There was no-one in.’

Zafe shook his hair, clearing his fringe from his eyes. He wore it differently now, long at the front but spiky-short at the back, like he had his expression on the wrong side of his head. ‘OK. You know his family?’

‘No, like I said, I’m just a friend.’ Ben had never talked about his family. Never really talked about anything close to him unless I’d forced him. I shivered. He was more like me than I’d realised.

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