Nico by James Young Read Free Book Online

dubious credit cards; unsafe vehicle; illegally parked; loitering. Not forgetting crimes against good taste.
    They came out, Good Queen Bess and Raleigh. Echo was staggering in front, carrying the harmonium like a relic of state. Nico had on a pair of aviator shades. It wasn’t sunny and she wasn’t smiling. She reached the gate and stared expressionlessly at the van, then looked back at Echo and shook her head.
    Echo staggered, shell-shocked, in no-man’s-land, still cradling the harmonium. He looked at her and he looked at the van, then turned and followed Nico back to the house. The door slammed shut.
    Demetrius wasn’t ready for this. It was the first time he’d been out of the country since he was a kid. This was his chance to break the grip of a fear that had been holding him in for years. It wasn’t Nico. It wasn’t us. It certainly wasn’t the music. For him it really was an adventure. An adventure of the heart. Like falling in love, it contained the same terror and exhilaration. No one was going to spoil his romance.
    His fist pounded the dashboard. He looked over at the silent, shuttered house. ‘That malignant little earworm, he’s eaten into her soft mind already.’
    He jumped out of the van, held on to his trilby, staggered a little at the hard shock of the ground, then straightened himself up for action. Manager/Parent/Suitor – this would test all three.
    Echo drove us back to Demetrius’s office. This time we walked up as there was no ‘Dr’ Demetrius to command respect. Tommy the Lift just spat on the floor and swigged at the bottle of Jameson’s he kept under his stool.
    The office was strangely full of activity. There was a guy on one phone talking to his record company. In the other room were two small women. One was pretty beneath the attitude armour. The other was pure testosterone. She might have made a good pitprop. They were both using the other phone, fixing up a show where they came in dressed entirely in animal entrails. It was some kind of statement. It was hard to find a good tune anywhere.
    Cardboard boxes were stacked high. I looked inside one. It was full of unpromoted promo-singles for Pete Shelley’s “Tiller Boys”.
    â€˜Why does he keep all this stuff?’ I asked.
    The pretty one shrugged. The pitprop said, ‘ We’re here to make essential calls. What are you here for?’
    â€˜I honestly don’t know … I thought I was doing a tour of Italy with Nico. But I haven’t got further than Didsbury.’
    â€˜Oh, you’ve joined the good Doctor’s sick list have you?’ The pretty one smirked to the other: ‘They all follow the Big Quack around, like ducks in a line.’
    â€˜Quack,’ said pretty.
    â€˜Quack. Quack,’ said pitprop.
    Toby and Echo looked at me from the other room, puzzled.
    It was clear this was no longer Demetrius’s office. Who were these people? I pulled Echo to one side.
    â€˜Who are they?’ I asked.
    â€˜People with careers,’ he said.
    Flying was the only way to be in Italy on time. It had made the most sense all along, but Demetrius was in favour of terra firma .
    Raincoat
    His eyes blinked, like a lizard. He had a smile like a lizard, totally insincere … maybe he would eat you. He would be smiling at you, summing up your calorific value as you chatted to him, a juicy buzzing fly. He always agreed with you so you never knew what he was really thinking.
    Demetrius wanted all his friends involved. Jobs for the boys. All the way down the line. And the line stretched round the block to where someone’s wallet was unaccountably £10 lighter, or someone else needed a runner for a couple of grams. That was where you’d find Raincoat.
    But he was so charming. Truly charming. He’d been a ladies’ hairdresser after he left school. He knew what women wanted. He shared their confidences and he got to know their