Get Into The Light 2

‘She's just like you and me
but she's homeless, she's homeless
as she stands there singing for money.’
‘Gypsy Woman’, Crystal Waters.

‘Aaargh it’s stinging my eyes, it smells like crap,’ I cried.
Lynette was vigorously rubbing two packets of cheap black Henna dye onto my head. I sat in front of the mirror growing increasingly uncomfortable.
‘Look, I have to rub it all in or it’ll be patchy. I use this stuff all the time. It’ll look cool, you’ll see.’
Pete looked up from his ‘Rolling Stone’ magazine and smirked.
After Mum’s revelation I had cycled straight to Lynette’s house. The atmosphere was tense. Pete and her had obviously had a row. The bed sheets were all rumpled and the back of Pete’s Sisters of Mercy T-shirt was torn. Lynette had probably tried to manhandle him into bed. Lynette was wearing tiny black knickers, suspenders and a peek a boo bra. She was more jumpy than usual which indicated she hadn’t had a chance to practice any of the techniques outlined in ‘500 ways to satisfy your man’ which still lay open on the pillow.
‘Do you think I’ll look OK?’ I asked. The area around my hairline had already gone deep purple. My skin now had a deathly pallor.
‘You are going to look so cool,’ Lynette said, ‘and sexy.’
I took a sip of coffee, unconvinced.
‘I mean my hair is obviously naturally this colour,’ she said tossing her brown, glossy locks but beauty is all about cheating,’
She then stopped for a second.
‘Pete always used to say he loved my hair, didn’t you Pete?’
Pete didn’t answer.
‘He loved my hair didn’t you darling?’ she continued, her hands rubbing the dye more and more vigorously into my stinking scalp.
‘ He loved my hair but not just my hair. He loved my tiny ass and my tiny little titties, the most. Didn’t you sweetie?’.
Pete’s head didn’t move but I thought I saw his cheeks redden slightly.
‘He loved my tiny little titties so much, didn’t you eh?’. Lynette wiggled her non-existent chest in the mirror. I could feel the henna creeping down my neck.
Pete didn’t respond.
Lynette ripped off the rubber gloves and threw them on the dressing table, black dye spattered the mirror, the lamp and her collection of phallus shaped perfume bottles.
‘But now, but now, he doesn’t want to fuck me anymore? Do you, eh you asshole?’.
I squirmed in my chair, I would have got up and left but I looked like a swamp creature.

Pete calmly pulled on his cowboy boots, stood up and walked out of the room, gently patting Lynette’s head as he passed.
‘That was before I knew what a complete slut you are’ he said and slammed the door. Then the front door slammed and the walls shook slightly.

Lynette sat on the sofa with her head in her hands.
‘Why does he do this to me? Why? Why?’ she moaned.
I put my arm around her, feeling slightly self-conscious at her lack of clothes. Her nipples were huge, like two agen prunes. It might have been more erotic if I hadn’t got half a ton of cow dung on my head.
‘I’m sure he loves you Lynette. He’s just going through a tough time. Listen why don’t you play a bit harder to get?’ I said, ‘Men don’t like it when you come on too strong. They want to do the whole caveman thing and drag their woman off to the bedroom’.
Lynette looked up, ‘Really, you think that would work?’ she said earnestly, reaching across to put her red satin dressing gown on.
‘I read it in a book somewhere, why not give it a try? He’ll be begging for it in no time’ I said.
Her face brightened immediately.
‘Ok, maybe I will’, she said ‘shit we need to get that stuff off your hair already. It looks a bit weird’.

Imagine a corpse. A fresh corpse, well maybe a day or two old but a corpse, not a body with any life left in it. Now imagine this corpse has been found in the river. It’s difficult to tell whether it’s male or female. Its skin is devoid of colour and its eyes are circled with deep purple rings. All the veins in its face have risen to the surface like a dried up old leaf. What surprises you when they first pull the body out from the water is not this. Nor is it the smell. What surprises you is the shade and shape of this corpse’s hair that stands eerily at right angles to its head.

‘What the fuck have you done to your hair?’ Carl screeched. He’d returned from the studio to find me sitting slumped in the leather chair, a cigarette in one hand and The Cure on the stereo.
‘Lynette did it’. I said flatly.
‘Why? Though Why?’
‘Dad’s going to come over with his motorcycle friends and drag me back home so this is my disguise’. I said.
‘Well it certainly bloody works’, Carl said, ‘you look like something out of The Addams Family’.
‘Well thanks Carl, thanks a lot. Lynette said it was sexy so that shows how much you know’.
Carl smiled and sat on the edge of the chair.
‘Well I guess it’ll just take some getting used to it that’s all’.
He stroked my hair which now had the texture of steel wool.
‘Your scalp is all purple’ he said.
‘I know, I know but it should wear off. Or I’ll just have to wear a hat for the rest of my life’,
‘Don’t worry about it Lola, your Dad’s not going to turn up here, is he? From what you’ve said he doesn’t sound like the kind of man who likes confrontation’.
This was true enough. Dad would rather eat worms than have a fight. Maybe I was just being paranoid after all.
‘Let’s have an early night’ Carl said, ‘ I quite fancy you with your hair like that’.

Over the next few days I wore a headscarf and sunglasses whenever I went out. Part of this was because my scalp was still purple and I couldn’t bear anyone seeing it. But deep down I was also scared that Dad would suddenly appear and drag me back to London. One day I saw the Hells Angels talking to some raggedy hairy dude and became convinced that it was Dad’s best friend Tony. But it wasn’t. It was just another one of the Wig Hookers clients. Every time I heard a motorcycle roaring past my heart would skip a beat. But it was always a false alarm. He never came.
Slowly I realised that Dad wouldn’t be coming to get me. It had just been a threat to try and scare me home. He was all mouth and no leather trousers.
I was in Amsterdam for the foreseeable future.

I spent more and more time at the studio. When I wasn’t cleaning I sat upstairs playing Sonic the Hedgehog on the Sega Megadrive. My jaw tightly clamped together, my eyes bulging, my shoulders stiff as a brick. After three hours I would be close to having a fit and would have to lie down and look at the ceiling. Despite the physical discomfort, I found Sonic a good way to avoid thinking about the future.

Sporadically I would go downstairs and listen to some of the noise coming out of the studio.
One Saturday the sound was so violent, so awe inspiringly frightening it could not be ignored.
The studio was filled with smoke and the faint smell of man sweat.
‘Hakke hakke hakke hakke’ Eddie chanted pogoing up and down to the relentless beat.
Carl was bent over the mixing desk like a man trying to hold down a tent about to fly away in the wind.
‘I think we need a singer’ he shouted over the din.
‘Hakke hake hakke’ Eddie continued, this time adding a couple of air guitar moves before he collapsed into his chair. ‘It’s sexy man, it’s banging, it’s all happening’ he said.

Charles was lying curled under the table asleep. His mouth was half open and a tiny pool of drool had collected on the carpet.

‘But I think a lot of this stuff sounds the same’ Carl said, ‘it sounds good, don’t get me wrong but it’s missing something’.
Eddie looked thoughtful for a moment and then slowly began to nod in agreement.
‘You have a point. Besides it might make it a bit more chick-friendly especially if it’s a girl, they love listening to all that ‘I love you’ crap’.
‘Our main problem is we don’t have a female singer’ Carl shouted.
The track came to an end and all was well with the world for a blissful couple of seconds.
Carl and Eddie turned to me at the same time.
A bird chirped outside.

‘Oh no no, I know what you’re thinking. I can’t sing. Really’ I said emphatically.
‘Everyone can sing, listen we can put so much effect on your voice it won’t even sound like you’ Eddie said grinning.
Carl smiled, this was a great opportunity wasn’t it? My stomach turned to jelly at the thought.
‘I’ll have a think about it’ I said and sprinted back up the stairs to resume the final battle of Sonic Versus Doctor Robotnik.

Sunday morning.

Carl was slumped over his equipment, the tinny sound of cymbals echoing from his enormous headphones. I tapped him on the shoulder. I’d been staring at Wig Hooker for several minutes as she struggled to hitch her plastic skirt up so she could set off on her bicycle. Why didn’t she ever get changed once she got to her destination?
‘Mmm….what?’ he said sleepily.
‘Maybe I’ll have a go. See if I can sing eh?’ I said.
‘Really?’.
He was taken aback. I’d been mulling it over for a couple of days and had come to the solution that it would be the perfect solution. A way to avoid going back to London, stay with Carl and possibly be a world famous megastar.
‘Well it beat’s cleaning doesn’t it?’.
He nodded but his eyebrows had their doubts.
‘Eddie ‘s the one you have to win over, not me’.
Carl didn’t want to be the one to tell me my voice stank and I had no talent.
‘Well I’ll show him then,’ I said. Yes confidence that was all it took.
Carl reached round and pulled me onto his lap. I kissed him on the end of his pointy nose. He looked tired and a deep frown line had begun to form between his eyes.
I tried to flatten it with my finger.
‘Maybe we’ll make some money at last,’ I continued. ‘we can’t survive on potatoes and carrots forever’.
Carl kissed me and drew me close.

The two of us had visited Social Services a week earlier. After a day of form filling and meetings with various wooden-earring wearing, hairy- lipped social workers we’d come away with an extra 45 guilders a week. That just about covered our weekly cigarette bill. Even with my extra cleaning money, things were tight. Starch, carbs and coffee now our daily diet.
The music was our only hope of seeing protein again.

‘Cut Cut STOP!’
Eddie’s face was purple. He was close to exploding.
‘Godverdomme Godverdomme. Start again, start again’. He took a deep drag on his roll up as if it was his last.
I’d been in the ‘singing booth’ for 50 minutes but hadn’t made a sound yet. I kept missing my cue.
‘Rewind, rewind. Lets go from the top again’.
Carl winked at me through the tiny gap between the curtain and the studio glass.
‘ This time Lola, just fuckin’ go for it. I don’t care what words you sing. I don’t care whether you sing at all. Just make a fuckin’ noise. I can’t work with silence’.

I felt a big fat lump rising in my throat and a horrible sinking feeling. Why had I suggested this? Was I insane? I couldn’t sing I knew it. This was humiliating.

The track whirred into action, first some very distant strings, then the pitter patter of tiny cymbals, the beat building to a crescendo and then here was my cue, my cue to start.

‘La la La la la’ I sang very quietly.
Very softly.
‘La la la la la la la’ I continued.

My voice sounded like a small mouse who had crept into a battlefield obvlivous to the mayhem around him and was picking flowers.

Carl caught my eye and tried to nod encouragingly but I could tell it wasn’t going well.
‘La la la, it’s la la lovely so la la la lovely’.
‘Louder Lola Louder’ Charles shouted through the headphones.
‘Lovely, lovely, la la it’s lovely’.
A fraction louder this time.
‘Stop stop STOP!’ Eddie roared. He jumped out of his chair and the door flew open. Suddenly he was right beside me. Drenched in Aramis and pure anger.
‘Lola, this isn’t working. Your voice, it’s like……’ he paused, ‘ it’s like an irritating little itch on my back that I can’t scratch. It needs to be sexy, provocative. I should be getting a hard on by now!’ he spat.
My mouth dried up.
‘I’m sorry Eddie. I just feel so nervous. I can’t sing any louder…..It feels too weird. I don’t like listening to myself in these headphones’.
‘Well I don’t like listening to it either’ he said and stormed out.
‘Lets take a ‘Time Out’ Charles said through the headphones, popping a small tablet onto his tongue.

‘Don’t worry about it babe, you did your best. Not everyone can be a singer. At least you gave it a try’ Carl said reassuringly.
We were sat upstairs in the lounge. I now felt oddly stoical about the whole thing, well stoical with a sprinkling of embarrassment and disappointment on top.
‘And it’s not worth doing if you don’t enjoy it’ Carl continued.
I nodded solemnly.

Back to the cleaning then.

‘Guys, come and have a listen to this’ Charles voice echoed up the stairs.
As we walked in Charles was frantically adjusting different buttons and levers on the mixing desk.
‘I was recording you speaking in between takes and I thought I would see what it sounded like and well see what you think….’
Charles started the track and then a soft vocal began to echo round the room. The words weren’t right - well you couldn’t make out any words really but it sounded different. It didn’t sound like me. It was sensual, lilting. The voice of a siren.

He had obviously put some heavy effects on it.

‘What do you think? It sounds cool eh? Eddie hasn’t heard it yet but I think this might work’.
‘Play it again a minute,’ Carl said.
He closed his eyes and then a half smile flashed across his face.
‘It’s weird. But I can’t… well you’re just speaking nonsense’.
‘But if I was saying something. If I had like proper lyrics it might work?’ I said hesitantly.
Charles nodded enthusiastically. Carl still looked unconvinced.
‘It’s not singing though is it?’ he continued.
‘But Charles thinks it sounds cool don’t you?’.
Charles nodded again. Poppy seed pupils.
‘Well I’m going to go upstairs and try and write some,’ I said now annoyed.
I ran up the stairs, taking care to grab the banister as I went.
Why did Carl not trust me? It sounded good didn’t it? And writing lyrics well that was a breeze.

Two hours later I sat staring at a blank sheet of paper, my hands resting on Eddie’s antique typewriter. What was I going to write about? School? Parents? Having hair like Joey Ramone?
I could hear the track drifting up the stairs and a high pitched squeal. I looked around. Charles had left a bottle of tablets on the coffee table. They looked bad. They weren’t vitamins. But I needed inspiration didn’t I?

Another hour later and my hands were a whirring blur in front of my eyes. The beast of inspiration had taken hold of my soul. I was typing like my life depended on it. The pads of my fingers were on fire. My teeth ground together to the rhythm of the tap tap tap tap. The ashtray overflowed with fag butts and gum. When I wasn’t smoking I was chewing. Boy was my mouth dry. And my eyes hurt. No time to blink. Just this last bit to finish. Ta da!
I ripped the paper from the typewriter and ran down the stairs. A masterpiece, that’s what it was.

‘What’s up with you? You look crazy’ Charles said.
Carl was in the kitchen making more coffee.
‘What do you mean? Here look at these,’ I thrust the ‘lyrics’ at him, covered in thumb prints, blobs of Tippex and concentrated creative mind power.
Charles silently read then made a funny noise in his throat.
‘These are good Lola. In fact they’re great’.
‘I just got the idea from listening to the music. Suddenly it all came together,’ I said excitedly.
Carl emerged carrying a tray of coffee and chocolate biscuits.
‘What’s going on?’ he asked. I turned to face him.
Resume normal service.
‘Lola are you OK?’ he asked, setting the tray down on an old copy of Mixmag. ‘Your eyes are all weird… and your hands are trembling’.
I looked down, he was right. I ran my tongue along my front teeth. Soft like plasticine.
‘She’s written these lyrics for the track. Here read them,’ Charles said passing them over.
There was a silence whilst Carl read. Then he turned and smiled. His concern vanished.
‘These are great. I mean a bit clichéd but they work. How did you write them?’
‘I don’t know. I guess the music just inspired me’ I said my teeth chattering.
‘Well this calls for something stronger’ Carl said and left to fetch some beers.

‘You took some of my pills didn’t you?’ Charles said once he was out of earshot.
‘ Well I had a few. They were great. What were they?’
‘A few? They’re extra strong Dexy’s. I only take them if we’ve got a really tight deadline and I can’t afford to sleep for a few days’.
‘A few days? Oh crap’.
‘What’s this?’ Carl said now armed with three beers.
‘Nothing. I feel a bit weird all of a sudden. I’ll go and play Sonic a bit till I calm down’.
Carl shot me a look and then looked at Charles who shrugged.
‘Where’s Eddie anyway?’ I asked.
‘He went out to blow off some steam. He’s probably in the Banana Bar as we speak,’ Charles replied.
Not feeling too good now. My heart seemed to be playing the maracas and the vein in the side of my head was fluttering like a bird that’s been shot down with an air rifle.
‘Are you OK Lola? Why don’t you go upstairs and chill out for a bit. You can show these to Eddie when he shows up’ Carl said helping me up the stairs.

Level 6 ‘Sonic in the Jungle’. Jump up snatch the coins, press spin, spin and then SPIN on those giant ladybirds. Die ladybirds die. Didn’t catch me eh? Well worship at the temple of the big blue swirling Hedgehog. Sonic was great. So great. This time I would conquer Dr Robotnik. That evil fat robot bastard with his long metal arms. Eddie’s laugh reverberated through the floor boards. He’d returned a while ago. With some strange lipstick markings on his neck and chest. The Banana Bar had come up trumps.
As had my lyrics.

‘These are great Lola. But I can see you’re a bit worked up now so we’ll record them next week eh?,’ Eddie had said, momentarily glancing at the bottle of tablets which still lay on the table.
Level 8, ‘Underwater Zone’, drove me crazy. Sonic was drowning and taking me with him. The little fish with metal teeth were biting my ass.
‘Cool’ I said distractedly, rocking backwards and forwards in my chair.
‘You’re welcome to have a nice calming bath upstairs,’ Eddie suggested.
‘No, umm no…. it’s OK. We’ve got a lovely shower at home Eddie so thanks but no thanks’ I said turning briefly to catch his eye. 150 rings and I had an extra life. Result!
He shrugged and left.

‘You are going to record your own song’ Lynette squealed squeezing my arm tightly.
‘ It’s not my song, it’s Carls…well I suppose it’s a bit mine’.
‘I can’t believe it. You’re going to be a popstar. You HAVE to let me be in the band. Let me please please PLEASE’ she begged. She jumped up from the bed and tried to hug me. Her hair smelt of Magie Noire.

‘Yes Lola, let her be in the band. She has so much talent’. Pete interjected from the other side of the room. He was changing his guitar strings.
Always changing those strings but never playing them.

‘We’re not a band…. yet but yes of course when we become a band you can help out,’ I said hesitantly.
‘Yes oh yes oh thanks. I can dance. I can make stage outfits. I have some great fabric in mind already’ Lynette said excitedly. She danced around the room clutching a sheer piece of black sequinned material to her chest.
‘Woo hooo, what a celebration,’ Pete said sarcastically.
The TV was on. A 24 - hour traditional German music jamboree. The presenter was wearing leder housen and a felt green hat. The female co-presenter’s corseted breasts were bulging around her ears.
‘I love this stuff, look what that guys wearing’ Lynette giggled.
‘Its scary’ I said.
A tightly- permed fake - tanned cadaver massaged his accordion and then smiled suggestively at the camera.
‘This calls for a little celebration’ Lynette continued, finally flopping on the bed and pulling a small tartan purse from under the mattress.
‘Oh no, look I still feel weird from those pills I took last week. I’ll pass,’ I said.
Lynette clicked the purse open and peered inside. A cornucopia of powders, plants and other substances. She’d shown it to be before but I’d declined anything, still naïve and scared about that sort of thing.
‘Pete honey, do you fancy a little something?’ she cooed provocatively.
‘Jesus Lynette, it’s only four a clock in the afternoon, I thought you had a headache, can’t you wait a bit?’ he retorted.
‘Maybe I should go’ I said. I didn’t want to witness another scene.
‘No, no stay. Ignore him. I’ll just have this little treat and then we’ll make plans for our band,’ Lynette said disappearing into the bathroom.
Pete tutted.
There was an awkward silence.
‘How’s stuff going then Pete?’ I asked.
‘What stuff?’ he replied aggressively.
‘Well you know, your music.’
‘I’m not doing music at the moment. I’m giving myself a creative break. When the mood takes me I’ll start again. I’ve got some great ideas somewhere’..
I nodded. Pete’s ‘creative break’ had lasted seven years and had unhappily coincided with his first date with Lynette.
‘So you’re going to do music now?’ he asked with a sarcastic smile.
‘I’m not really ‘doing music’. I’m just writing lyrics, seeing what happens’.
‘Well just don’t get your hopes up. It never works. And when it does it’ll all go wrong and all the people who you thought were your friends will abandon you,’ Pete said his eyes flashing with anger.
‘Right I’m back darlings,’ Lynette sashayed back into the room, tripping over her high heeled fluffy slippers. Her eyes already glazing over slightly.
‘Lets go to the market, we need to get material for our dresses. We need glamour. I can see it now ‘Lynette and the Fandangos’, oh sorry no I mean ‘Lola and Lynette’ or how about ‘The Two ‘L’s’?’.

‘Do you think Pete loves me?’ Lynette asked as we cycled along side by side. I was becoming more accustomed to cycling now and could even take one hand off the handlebars to smoke if I was feeling daring.
‘Of course he does. He just doesn’t show it. He’s obviously crazy about you. Why would he stay at home everyday if he didn’t want to spend time with you’
‘He wants to make sure I don’t fuck anyone else’ she said.
‘No, he’s just going through a bad time’ I continued and swerved to avoid a small dog crapping on the pavement.
‘His music isn’t going anywhere. His band threw him out. He needs time’.
‘That was seven years ago’ Lynette said gripping the handlebars more tightly.
‘I know, but he’ll come around. You’ll see’ I said unconvincingly.

To be truthful I didn’t have a clue why Lynette stayed with Pete. He was good looking in an obvious kind of way. But so vain and arrogant. He behaved like a rock star and had all the ego but none of the advantages of limos, hotels, American Express cards and mock Tudor mansions. He was an old soul who had given up. It was all very sad. Carl had also been through some pretty awful times in his band. They had been very successful, recorded four albums, had critical acclaim and then were unceremoniously dropped by their record company. What I loved about Carl was that he never gave up. If he got knocked back he just got up and tried again. Pete just lay there like road kill.

Lynette suddenly cut through my reverie.
‘I am so horny all the time, I tell you I can’t wait around much longer,’ Lynette announced as we turned into Waterlooplein market. A stall holder winked at her as she squirmed on her bicycle seat.
‘Don’t do anything you’ll regret eh? Lust is easy to satisfy but love is harder to find,’ I offered cringing as I said it.
‘Listen Lola, I need to get my rocks off. Then I’ll be able to think clearer and maybe me and Pete can sort our problems out’.
I didn’t quite understand this logic but I said nothing.
‘Now let me show you this glitter material I’ve seen. It’s perfect. There’s pink for me and blue for you. I can even make us matching rucksacks!’ she exclaimed, her voice slurring slightly.

The atmosphere in the studio on my second attempt at stardom was very different. The pressure was off. I knew I could speak and everyone loved the lyrics. On a sunny winter Monday afternoon I stood in the ‘singing box’ and confidently spoke my lines. I tried to make my voice soft and mysterious whilst Charles reassured me that they would put plenty of effects on it anyway to make it sound better.

‘I call upon your imaginary senses’ I began, ‘Your will to break down walls and fences. I want to hound your capabilities. Find castles looming up from your fantasies’.
Charles was nodding enthusiastically. Carl gave the thumbs up.
‘I call upon the farthest hidden depths. I’ll breathe a breath upon you. Your soul unwrap’. The chorus kicked in, a gospel singer and then tinkly bells and the sound of a car pounding into a wall.
Did ‘capabilities’ rhyme with ‘fantasies’? I’d used a rhyming dictionary to rework my first effort on Eddie’s advice.
Eddie was now dancing with his head thrown back facing the ceiling, his arms reaching up like a man drowning in sand.
‘Hakke hake hakke’ he shouted.
Which usually translated as good.

‘That’s great Lola, just one more verse and we’ll be finished’ Charles said through the headphones.
‘ I call upon your contrived naivety’ I started up again, ‘your reluctance to face reality’ I continued. My voice sounded strange in my ears, like I was standing at the bottom of a deep well.
‘The endless temptation, the final sensation’ I finished. The rhymes were pretty bad weren’t they? But everyone seemed to love it. Didn’t’ t they?
Carl smiled.
‘Right, come out now Lola, come and have a listen’ Charles said, gesturing for me to join them.

Imagine you’re dreaming. You’re flying over lush green countryside whilst the wind gently caresses your face. You hear an orchestra far away. Then a voice. Not not a girl’s, a woman’s. She’s calling for you to join her. Sultry, hypnotic and strange. You are powerless to ignore it. Then from nowhere a large black gospel singer has flown up beside you and screeches in your ear ‘FUCK ALL THROUGH THE NIGHT’ several times. This momentarily disorientates you and you start to plummet out of the sky and towards the earth at alarming speed. But then the sultry voice starts up again and you are lost once more in its dulcet tones.

It did sound good.

It didn’t sound like me. And you couldn’t really hear what I was saying. Only the first line which stood out, the line ‘I call upon’ which sounded cool, like a call to arms.
Or something.

‘Man I am so excited. This is going to be HUGE. We are going to be FAMOUS,’ Eddie chattered away whilst lighting a cigar. This boded well, the last time he’d smoked a cigar had been when he recorded ‘Jump my Bones Baby,’ which had been in the top 10 dance chart in Italy, Spain and Germany.
‘It sounds different. It works,’ Carl said.

Charles was busy adjusting one of the samples on the computer, his brow furrowed, his hands shaking slightly. It had to be perfect.

‘The first thing we need to do is get us a manager. Then a record deal and some gigs’ Eddie said wiping a drip from the end of his nose.
‘But we’ve only done one song,’ I said.
‘I know but this is the start of something. I can feel it. We’ll get a couple of professional singers for the other songs but Lola you can write the lyrics eh?’
‘Professional singers’ hummmpph. But lyric writer was better than nothing.
‘ What makes you think I can write more of this?’ I said tentatively.
Charles span around in his chair and shook the little bottle of nasties at me before throwing one in the air and catching one in his mouth.