Chapter 6

Alphabet woman
(Looking for an Alpha male)
Alpha ray purse
(No beta man just an Alpha on sale)
Alpha Centauri girl
(Gonna fly you to the stars, all the way)
Alpha wave slave
(He’ll keep you in chains, all the lonely, long day)
Alpha Beta Games (B. Lake)

ZERO HOUR +20

I came to, the soft buzzing of my phone alerting me that it was time to get up and prepare for my meeting with the record label execs whose offices were nearby. It was just a meet-and-greet, but Lappies reckoned it might open a few doors, and have them consider buying the rights to some of my songs, for bands on their label. What the hell, it couldn’t hurt.

I twisted to reach my phone and turn off the alarm, when I realised my other arm was pinned down.

I turned back and was confronted with a mass of red hair that spilled across the adjacent pillow and half my chest. It smelt wonderful.

As quietly and gently as possible I pulled my arm – which at that moment felt more like a lump of clay that had spun off the potter’s wheel, rather than an appendage that was still attached to me – from beneath her neck. Summer mumbled and muttered and curled up tighter.

As I sat on the bed, I could only stare at her and shake my head. She looked like a normal twelve-year-old, dreaming of things both childlike from her past and a mysterious adult future, not the grown woman who had given me the silent treatment the previous night. When I’d cracked open the bathroom door after sluicing away the sweat, worries, troubles and semen of the day, I’d found a small pile of soft white towels waiting for me. The rest of the room was in darkness. I’d dried off, hung up the towels, searched around by the light of my phone until I found a pair of shorts, then crawled into bed.

“You could at least say thank you,” her voice had drifted over from the other bed. “For arranging fresh towels for you.”

“Go to sleep, Summer,” I kept my tone conversational.

“A thank you isn’t a lot to ask for, you know!”

“Go to sleep, Summer.”

“Common decency, that’s all. I’m just saying.”

“Go to sleep, Summer.”

“It’s not much to expect...”

“Shut the fuck up, Summer.” My voice was still carefully neutral.

There had been a noise suspiciously reminiscent of a raspberry, and then a soft giggle.

Sometime during the night she’d moved over to my bed in order to use my arm as a neck rest. The way it felt, at the same time she may very well have pounded it into a shape that was more comfortable for her.

When I got out of bed and looked down at her as she slept, she looked all pink and lovely, and for a moment I had the urge to touch her arm. I shook it off with difficulty and headed for the bathroom. I had to think about the events of the night. Sense and nonsense were once again warring in my head.

Despite the dead arm, and the agonising tingling when it came back to life, I brushed my teeth, washed my face, and then dressed quietly. I wrote a quick note explaining I’d be back in a couple of hours, but to order room service if she got hungry. Heh. If she got hungry?

I headed down to the reception, wished the ever-smiling Annie-May a good morning – who arranged a taxi for me in return, and left for my meeting.

After all that travelling, in the end it was a bit of a let-down, to be quite honest. I had no clear expectations of what I thought it would be like, but I’d hoped for a little more than a well-carpeted suite of offices, with cubicles of worker bees droning quietly in the background on phones or computers.

The label execs were nice enough and, although they offered tea, we shared a pot of coffee as we went through the little introduction dance of polite chit-chat, and got down to business. I presented them with a show-reel on DVD that Lappies had knocked together for me, and the four of us watched it, as various well-known music stars serenaded, crooned or belted out my songs on various videos they’d produced. The suits were a little more enthusiastic at that point, and I could almost see the little dollar signs circling their heads, like old-time cartoons.

They in turn presented me with one of their DVDs, and we watched many of their stable of singers and bands do pretty much the same thing that mine had. It gave me a good idea of their individual styles and ranges, which meant that I could tailor songs specifically for them, and that was one of the main points in me being there in the first place. All good then.

Finally, we were through, and with promises of keeping each other in mind echoing between us, I made my way back to the hotel, my mind more occupied with Summer and her presence in my bed that morning, than on the pleasant hour or so of business.

What had she indicated by crawling into bed with me?

It wasn’t for sex; that was for sure. She was dressed in a tee-shirt – one of mine, now I came to think of it – and a pair of loose-fitting jogging pants. I couldn’t remember buying those at the mall, but I suppose I must have. There was no way that Debbie would have presented that rather ratty looking item amongst her array of dazzling creations.

Was it for comfort? Warmth? Security? All of those, or some other mysterious reason? Perhaps it was indeed to torment me, and live up to my nickname for her.

I shook my head. How the hell could I know what was going on in the brain of a woman I’d met less than twenty-four hours earlier? Or any woman if it came to that? I wasn’t stupid, but when it came to women, I was thicker than two short planks. My Knight simply threw me into the fray willy-nilly. It certainly didn’t provide any great insights, or anything else I could usefully wield in my fight to save the princess in the tower.

I flashed back to Phoebe at school. She hadn’t been damaged. So why...

It suddenly came to me. Other kids sat with her at school, but they always approached her in a group, not on their own.

My mouth actually dropped open.

They were afraid of her – too afraid to be alone with her to face that incredible temper if they did or said the wrong thing. That’s why she was always either alone or in a group – and why she had no real close friends.

My White Knight had fucked me over with her, as well. I’d subconsciously felt sorry for her, and remembered that feeling – below the radar – when I’d met her again in my slimmer, more confident guise. That sympathy had pushed me straight at her – although, admittedly, her looks hadn’t exactly made me run screaming for the hills.

“You fucking stupid bastard!” I swore at myself. The cabbie looked at me in the mirror, and I hurriedly pretended to be muttering at my phone until he settled back to driving once more. I noticed he did keep glancing in his mirror at me, giving me the stink-eye.

At the hotel, Annie-May was busy booking in a couple and their kids, so I simply waved and went up to the room. In the lift, I began to wonder at the reception I was going to get. Fuck, life was so confusing sometimes!

When I opened the door, Summer was seated cross-legged on my bed. It had been made up to an extent and she was dressed in a long-sleeved jersey and jeans.