Page 89 of Kiss Heaven Goodbye

‘I just think Jez and Nathan have a different agenda to you. For Jez, well, it’s all about Jez, isn’t it? But for Nathan, it’s all about making money and obviously that means pushing Jez to the front – Jez is always going to mean bums on seats.’

‘So where does that leave me?’ said Alex sulkily.

She shrugged. ‘Year Zero isn’t being sold on the music any more, is it? You’re like these cheeky-chappie Britpoppers who look good and give a catchy quote. Whoever talks about the songs any more?’

Alex gestured angrily towards the rest of the party. ‘All these people!’ he snapped. ‘Didn’t you hear them as we came in? They were all saying how much they loved the album—’

‘Don’t be so bloody naïve, Alex,’ she interrupted. ‘The blood-suckers in this room would slap you on the back and call you a genius if you’d written “The Birdie Song” and it had made them money. What matters to them is that you’re keeping them in Ferraris and coke.’

‘When did you get so cynical?’ said Alex. He knew she was right, of course. For all their front covers and chart positions – four top-ten singles in a row – Year Zero weren’t exactly rolling in it, and if he was honest, he was increasingly uncomfortable with the way Jez had become the face of the band, constantly making the tabloids for some outrageous quote or being pictured rolling out of Browns nightclub in the company of models or soap actors. Worst of all, she was right about the music. The creativity of their first couple of years seemed to have disappeared.

Alex swallowed the rest of his cocktail and gestured towards a clown.‘Can you get me a Jack Daniel’s?’ he asked.‘Make it a double.’

Emma put her hand on his. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said gently. ‘You’re right. Let’s just enjoy the party. Seems like Jez has already made a start.’

‘He’s here, is he?’ said Alex, knocking back his whiskey.

‘There he is. With that supermodel. Sophia whatsherface.’

‘You’re kidding,’ he said, spinning around quickly.

He watched the beautiful brunette wrap her arms around Year Zero’s frontman and almost coughed up his drink.

‘I can’t pissing believe it.’

Emma chuckled. ‘Don’t get so wound up about it. Word is she’s a right music groupie. She’ll be moving on to the next NME cover star tomorrow.’

She drew a finger to his cheek. ‘Look at you, all pink. Admit it, Doyle, you wish you were going out with a multi-millonaire supermodel rather than a lowly marketing exec. Although I do think I have better tits.’

She was making a joke of it, but Alex knew she was pressing home a point.

‘My lovely marketing executive does have better tits. In fact she has better everything. But that’s not the point. I just can’t understand how he does it,’ he said, his voice beginning to wobble.

‘Look. There’s Clive from the New York office. Are you going to come over and say hello?’

‘No.’

‘Alex. He’s the big cheese over there. Schmooze. Network.’

‘I need another drink.’

‘Fine. Calm yourself down,’ she said, rolling her eyes and disappearing into the crowd.

Alex couldn’t help his gaze wandering back in the direction of Jez, preening himself in front of his audience, loving every minute of his reflected glory. His irritation wasn’t exactly new; everything Jez did these days seemed to annoy him. His stupid political slogan T-shirts, the artfully done floppy hair, the way in interviews he always referred to the band’s songs as ‘my songs’, as if no one else had lifted a finger. And yet here he was with one of the world’s sexiest women on his arm. And then it clicked and in an instant Alex realised just what it was about Jez which so wound him up. Somewhere, somehow, in setting off to find a new life away from Danehurst, Alex had found another Miles. Another charmer, another self-interested manipulator who snaked his way through life with his hand out, expecting to be given everything. Jesus Christ, he thought, laughing to himself. Why didn’t I spot this before?

He ordered another drink and threw it back, grimacing. By rights, he should have been incredibly drunk. He’d started drinking at lunchtime – just a few beers at the Engineer in Primrose Hill – and hadn’t stopped. But these days he never got the sort of happy highs he used to with alcohol. Now it was just a matter of trying to feel normal.

Emma was laughing with Clive Benson now. She was doing so well at the company and he had no doubt that within ten years she’d be running the show, but his pride in her was bittersweet; she was always working, always coming up with some new scheme. They never seemed to relax these days, enjoy one another’s company, enjoy what they had. I can talk, he thought, putting his glass down on the bar. Emma had reminded him recently that he should be happy with what he had achieved; stop and enjoy the moment. After all, he had the life he’d always wanted: he was a successful musician, he lived with a fantastic woman: people would kill for his life. So why did he feel so miserable all the time?

‘Penny for your thoughts?’

Alex turned to see two sapphire cat-like eyes looking at him: Sophia Brand.

‘Uh, sorry?’ he mumbled with complete surprise.

‘Just you looked like you were st

ruggling with some deep thoughts there,’ she said in her syrupy Deep South accent.