Page 122 of A Night with Damien Spur

‘Pull yourself together.’ His agent hated histrionics. ‘You’re a professional with a deadline. Just finish the lyrics… it’s not bloody Shakespeare. You’re writing a few lovey-dovey words so Ariana Bianchi can show off her singing.’

Come on, Damien, the Voice said.Bastard. Show him who’s boss.

‘Fuck off, Angus. What do you understand about human frailty? You’re sacked.’

He sat on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands, utterly in despair.

Damien?said the Voice.

‘Yes.’

Don’t sabotage yourself.

‘I can’t carry on like this… I’m dried up. Finished.’

He stroked the packet of white powder that would open up the gates to his creativity again.

No, Damien. I’m your best friend. Listen to me.DON’T.

That white magic dust was so close to his heart. Open sesame.

Just as he tore the corner with his teeth, the phone rang again.

‘Oh, what the hell!’ He picked it up.

‘Hello, mate,’ Aidan said. ‘Did you like my gift?’

‘I was about to blow it when you called,’ Damien replied. ‘Trying to get me hooked again, are you?’

‘Well, that’s not a very nice thing to say. I just wanted to cheer you up. Heard that you were having probs with your brain.’

‘Who the hell told you that?’

‘One of my clients. Shouldn’t really welch, but as it’s you…’ Aidan paused. ‘Come on, Damien, have a guess?’

‘For fuck’s sake, get on with it. Who?’

‘Mrs Temazepam. You shared at an AA meeting. Said you had mind freeze, couldn’t find your mojo… Anyway, if the powder keeps your brain cells jumping, I’m very happy to supply you again.’

How kind of the little shit, said the Voice.Now take my advice. Just tell him to fuck off nicely and then, Damien, throw away the coke…

It was 11 a.m. Damien had migrated from his bed to the sofa in the living room. He’d even made the effort to wash and dress.

She’d left two messages.

Hi,Damien, Ariana said.How goes? I’ll see you at your houseat noon. Please confirm.

Hello, Damien. Haven’t heard from you… I assume you’re working…

You jerk, yelled the Voice.What are you doing? NOTHING!Just sitting there paralysed. Stop with your mental constipation. Ring her!

Damien pressed the dial button.

‘Ariana,’ he said, ‘I can’t write the lyrics to your song. The melody is beautiful, but the words won’t come. I’m sorry.’

She’ll understand,said the Voice.What’s the betting she’ll want to save your creative soul?

‘I’m coming over,’ she said. ‘Let me inspire you.’

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