The Summer We All Ran Away Read Online Free Page B

obviously weren’t prepared. All these girls – you never saw so many girls! – in these teeny little outfits, queueing up like they were trying to get into a nightclub, only it was Jack’s dressing room and they were all obviously just after a screw.”
    â€œAwful,” said Sid.
    â€œYes I
know
, but there’s a limit. And then, there’s all the other ones – the ones from before – kids with notebooks and pencils, looking like they’d just arrived from fucking Mars or something. Talk about worlds colliding.”
    â€œSo basically what you’re saying is, it was a room full of people who all worshipped Jack?” Jane tried to laugh.
    â€œBut that’s the thing,” said Mike. “I was just stood there, staring at this, this riot, and watching that toad of a manager, what’s his name? Alan, that’s it, going along the line of girls and really obviously picking one out for the honour of getting into the dressing room.”
    â€œFor fuck’s sake.” Sheila threw the roach down onto the tiles. “What an utter cunt.”
    â€œManagers are always cunts.”
    â€œNot Alan, Jack! All that crap about
It’s not going to change me
, and within a year he’s turned from a slightly
recherché
musician into a mad superstar who won’t speak to anyone and has girls sent to his dressing room.”
    â€œSo I was watching all this happen,” said Mike, “and then I felt someone push past me. And I looked round, and it was Jack. So I said
Hi, mate, how are you
, and he just looked at me – he looked like he’d died three weeks ago and no-one had bothered to bury him – and shook his head, and walked out. Next thing I know, he’s on the front pages, being carried out of some hotel on a stretcher.”
    â€œAnd that’s it, is it?” said Sid. “You got blanked by Jack Laker? That’s your observation?”
    â€œI just thought it was interesting that - ”
    â€œFame turns everyone into a monster,” said Sheila. “I just wish you’d known him before, he was just the sweetest guy.”
    â€œYou weren’t the only one who knew him before he was famous,” said Jane.
    â€œI never said I was.”
    â€œHe should never have done it,” said Sid. “The dozy sod.”
    â€œDone what?”
    â€œSold out. That tour was his downfall.”
    â€œHe didn’t sell out,” said Mike. “He wrote an album that was a freak hit. Happens all the time.”
    â€œHe didn’t have to do the lifestyle as well. Nobody made him spend half his money on this place and shove the other half up his nose.” Sid laughed. “Did you hear what he’s got in the garden? A panther. An actual panther. What kind of pretentious tosser keeps a big cat?”
    â€œWant some sour grapes to go with that beer of Jack’s you’re drinking?” asked Jane slyly.
    â€œSorry?”
    â€œGenius is never recognised; nobody buys my paintings; therefore I must be a genius.”
    â€œYou utter bitch, how dare you.”
    â€œShut up and let me explain,” Mike demanded. “I haven’t finished my observation yet.”
    â€œExcuse me, but can you tell me where Jack Laker actually is?”
    The group turned around and saw a tall girl in a green frock.
    â€œAround,” said Mike vaguely. “You could try upstairs. Why?”
    â€œDoesn’t he mind people wandering around his house?” The group looked at her blankly. “Never mind. Thank you.”
    â€œYou’re welcome,” sang Mike sarcastically as she disappeared.
    â€œFor fuck’s sake,” said Alan. “Everybody tours. Everybody. You want to sell albums? You get your arse out on the fucking road and you work for it.”
    â€œI’ve done my time. I’ve got a fanbase. People buy my stuff.”
    â€œYou know how fast they’ll stop buying it if your