Please Don't Stop The Music by Jane Lovering Read Free Book Online Page A

leaflet forward.
‘Look, Jemima. This is my stock. This is the clientele I am aiming at.’ The brochure
contained photographs of Saskia herself, often holding various odd
items. In many she was standing next to people who had the sharp
edges and branded hairstyle of the upper class. Everyone wore
plastic cocaine smiles and showed too many teeth. ‘But do come to
the opening, darling.’
    I
stared at the shiny oblong. ‘When is it?’ I asked dully.
    A
perfect nail tapped. ‘Next week. You never know you might make some
contacts there. I am inviting all sorts of people, even the kind
that might buy your things. Chavs with money, you know.’
    Even
though I knew this had been a futile errand I still felt slightly
sick. ‘Who’s the celebrity you’ve got to do the honours then?’ I
asked, reading the gothic typescript.
    Saskia looked uncharacteristically shifty. ‘I’ve a few names
up my sleeve,’ she said, turning to reposition her centrepiece in a
way to make it look less like something swept in on a breeze.
‘Contacts, darling. That’s what it’s all about. Take some
invitations. Bring all your friends.’ She smirked. I was hardly
known for my huge social circle. ‘There will be nibbles but if I
were you I’d eat first.’
    Mairi and I exchanged a look. She had my pity, at least I
could walk away. ‘Thank you,’ I said trying to be graceful in
defeat. ‘I shall look forward to it.’
    ‘ Hmmm. Now, Mairi, I wonder if you’d mind getting up onto the
balcony with a duster …’
    I
left them to it. Shoved the almost frictionless glossy invites into
my back pocket and decided to go round to Ben’s shop. He’d got some
money for me and the way things were going he was my last, best
hope. I had my website but that was never going to make me my
fortune. I usually sold my smaller pieces that way; they were
cheaper to post, easier to pack and a little bit more wearable than
the big statement items I placed in shops … the shop.
    Which surprised me by having two of my buckles in the window.
One was attached to an enormous black leather belt draped over a
dayglo-green guitar. It looked surprisingly sexy and also a little
bit like an offensive weapon. The other buckle was attached to Ben,
who was stacking amps to one side to make room for a cardboard
cut-out figure I didn’t recognise.
    I
waved at him. After a second he waved back. Apart from the buckle,
today he was wearing a black T shirt and a grungy pair of black
jeans with a ripped pocket and his hair was tied back into a
ponytail. He was stubbled and his eyes looked fantastic in the
middle of all that dark hair, although they had bags under them you
could have lost a granny in.
    ‘ Thought I’d pop in. You know, see how things were.’ I stood
in the doorway slightly awkwardly, wishing he’d invite me inside.
With the way he was carrying on working and avoiding my eye, I was
beginning to feel a bit stalkerish.
    ‘ Things? Oh, they’re great. Just great,’ he repeated,
wrestling the amps, settling one on top of the other and showing
off a great set of biceps while he was at it. He had skinny arms
but with guitar-player’s musculature. I found myself staring for a
moment, then wincing and hating myself, although not really sure
why.
    ‘ Right. Only you asked me to come over.’
    Ben
stopped. ‘Did I?’ A grimy hand wiped his forehead, smearing it with
grey. ‘Are you sure?’
    Now
I did feel unwanted. Not that I wanted him to want me, of course,
but … well, he seemed to have forgotten that he’d asked me over and
that annoyed me. ‘You really know how to make a girl feel needed,
don’t you?’ I waltzed into the shop in my best affronted fashion.
‘You must be a real success in the dating world.’
    ‘ I
don’t date.’ His words were flat, emotionless. ‘All
right?’
    ‘ You
do surprise me.’ I’d meant it to be sarcastic, but it came out a
little softer, a little more rounded. Ben looked at me
blankly.
    ‘ So
why did I ask you