Page 33 of The Cocktail Bar
Chapter Sixteen
RIVER
“Rules don’t apply to me, I’ve told you before. Now just move on, switch some band members around, shuffle things up, recruit a couple of eager new faces, and be done with it,” said River to Lennie, swivelling promptly thereafter to face the hotel’s receptionist, “and as for you… how could you, you two-faced little—?”
“I’m so sorry,” she blurted, her heavy sniffs turning immediately to loud guttural sobs as she grabbed her bag and ran out of the building.
He turned back to Lennie: “Wow, you really are a conniving son of a—”
“Now that’s no way to talk about your…” but Lennie stopped himself going further. “And hark at you thinking you’re above the ts and cs of a legally binding document… I don’t think so.”
“Legally binding nothing, Lennie! For the gazillionth time, you forgot to renew it. So bring it on. All you’ll do is stress yourself out and keel over with a heart attack, take my advice, find a replacement, it’ll be easier on the arteries that way.”
“Ha!” Lennie nodded, rocking his head back and forth like one of those moving toy dogs people stick on the parcel shelf of their cars. “You’re hilarious, you. Slight problem there though, River. Not only did you go AWOL, but you encouraged Alice to go AWOL too.”
“That had nothing to do with me.” River let his eyes bore into Lennie’s, willing him to know it was the truth.
“Oh come on, you must think I was born yesterday, thick as thieves you two.”
“Really it didn’t, I had no idea until she turned—”
Damn him. Lennie always had that irksome way about him that made River say more than he’d intended to.
“Aha, so you don’t deny you know of her whereabouts.”
“I never said that.”
“I rather think you’ll find you just did.”
“Look, you’ve done enough damage already by bribing the receptionist, now kindly go.”
“Are you kidding? I won’t kindly anything, I haven’t even got started. Gonna get my money’s worth now I’m staying here at The Guinevere… indefinitely.” He disappeared behind his former throne to wheel out a giant leopard print suitcase.
“Fine, then I’m moving out.”
“River, think about it,” Lennie’s voice softened, but River was no fool to this customary tactic. “I’m prepared to let you go… in return for Alice. Hand her over, it’s obvious she’s here… or at your mother’s… I’ve already spoken with the lovely Tamara, such an accommodating filly she is, shame about the clock face.” He drew a circle around his own face with one of his pork chipolatas and let out another of his monstrous laughs. “You wouldn’t want me pestering Heather again now, would you… talking of ‘accommodating fillies’.” He whistled between the gaps of cemented together teeth.
“Don’t even think about it.” Rage consumed River and his mouth contorted at the very implication.
“Bit late for that,” Lennie chuckled.
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“For all your musical gifts you never were the sharpest note.” Lennie shook his head pitifully. “Forget it. I’m messing with you, too long a story anyway. Now then: back to business. What’s it to be, your good self or Alice?”
“Um, that would be neither of us; I think I’ve made that pretty clear.” River felt the anger burning in his throat now, wishing it would convert to fire so he could douse the putrid specimen stood in front of him for once and for all.
“Fair dos, son, fair dos. I’ve tried to play nicely, really I have.” Lennie’s hand twitched at the handle of his case, firm grip and release, firm grip and release, as if he were a chess piece trying to work out his next move.
“So what are you going to do now?” River challenged him with an arch of his eyebrows.
“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”
“No,” River smirked and shook his head at the supposed riddle. “No, no, no. I’ll tell you what you’re going to do now: you’re going to accept our decisions as final.” He put his hands on his hips as if to back up his words with some authority, “You’re going to realise that this happens to every manager in the music industry at some point, even the likes of Simon Sodding Cowell. And you are going to go back, talk to the members of Avalonia who still want to keep the band alive and kicking, ask them what they want to do, organise some auditions and recruit two new members. It couldn’t be simpler. Now, have a happy rest of your life and excuse me while I get on with mine.”
“Nice try, River.” Lennie flipped open the lid of his mobile, pressed some buttons, and stared menacingly at him, breathing deeply as he waited. “Yeah, taxi please… central London.”
“Good. Now stay there.” River headed up the stairs, shaking his head again in disbelief, ready to relay the whole episode to Georgina, not before slipping a note under the door to Alice. Fortunately, he had the order book he’d pilfered from Georgina for the umpteenth time, lodged into his back pocket; he took it out, and the biro attached to it:
“Stay in your room until further notice. Tonight will be our last night here at The Guinevere! I’ll sort out new accommodation for both of us tomorrow… not Mum’s and the shitty pink tie-dye, don’t worry. Oh, and we’ll be together, promise. Riv xx.”
He paced the corridor, unsure whether to go back downstairs and check up on Lennie’s current status, or play bouncer to Alice’s room. Just in case. The heavy creak of the door and trundling of wheels onto the steps outside, followed by a slam, marking the end of a chapter – as far as he was concerned anyway – told him all he needed to know. Alice would be fine now; the scumbag had taken the hint. Time to rekindle whatever it was that he had left with Georgina.
“I just cannot believe the audacity of that loser,” he said as he opened the door to his room. “Thanks for not letting on that we’re sort of an item.”
But there was no reply. Funny, unless his mind was completely messing with him, he swore he’d seen her walk into reception and up the stairs.
“Georgina? George?” He went to the bathroom, even swiping at the shower curtain, in case she should be there in a Psycho-inspired bloodbath; please god no.
