flake out on her night of triumph.
This was her night and she was determined to enjoy it.
Chapter Six
Al woke late with a feeling of apprehension. He didn’t feel that good, in fact he felt dreadful.
He lay in bed, opened his eyes, and did not feel like getting up at all.
He knew why he felt bad. It was fear, plain honest-to-goodness fucking nerves.
The forthcoming tour was bugging the hell out of him.
Why was he so nervous? He had tried to figure it out. It wasn’t like he had never been on the road before; he had done many successful tours. But the last one had been two years previously, and two years was a long time between gigs. OK, so there had been the cabaret dates, the television spectaculars, the records. But basically what Al
liked
, what he
wanted,
was that contact with a huge live audience. Going out there and doing your thing was what it was all about. The ultimate high.
He had made so much money in the last few years. If he wanted to pack it in and never work again he would be more than set. So the records weren’t selling so well – they tried to keep it from him, but he was well aware of every happening in his career. So what did the tour
really
mean to him?
It meant finding out how the people felt. Were the same fans who had been out there two years ago still going to be around? Were they still going to react with the same degree of enthusiasm? Was he still the tops? Or was he, at thirty-seven, a little too old for the adulation and hysteria? Would he now be regarded as just another establishment star?
He still looked great. He still sounded the same. Was that good or bad? Would they expect him to have changed?
And would his voice still be up to it? Would it survive the strain of God knows how many performances in vast stadiums?
Al coughed nervously. He wished the goddamn tour would start already. Every morning he woke up to the same fears and it was getting him down. He couldn’t even discuss his thoughts with Paul, he didn’t want to give voice to his doubts. Maybe when he got home he would tell Edna, but knowing her she would probably suggest that he cancel the whole tour and stay at home. Her secret dream was that they would lose all their money and move back into one room.
Edna was still the same sweet, simple girl that he had married. She hadn’t changed with his success. She hadn’t grown.
In a way Al was grateful, but in another way he resented her. Why didn’t she read more? Entertain? Wear beautiful clothes?
Improve
herself?
He had changed, and he was glad of it. When he had started in the business he had been very rough, a right layabout. Now he could go anywhere, meet anyone, and feel perfectly at ease.
Edna was more like a mother than a wife. Always there. Always uncomplaining. Hot meals. Clean shirts. She was the one who took his cock out to massage his balls because his stage trousers were too tight. That was about the only time she took it out too. He sighed. Every day the bridge seemed to get wider.
Of course he should never have got married. But then he would not have had Evan, and it was wonderful to have a son, even if the boy did need taking in hand.
How many happy marriages did he know of? How many that lasted longer than five years? In the world he moved in now – not many. At least he could trust Edna. She would never think of looking at another man. And she loved him for himself, the whole Al King bit meant nothing to her.
He sighed again. Then he remembered Paul was supposed to be arranging lunch for him with – what was her name the beauty contest winner – Dallas. Yeah. Al grinned. Not a bad bit of crumpet.
He consulted his digital watch to discover it was eleven-thirty. He hauled himself out of bed, and launched into thirty push-ups. Christ, but they got more difficult every day.
Lunch with a girl called Dallas. What would she be like?
Like the rest. Pretty but dumb. Either posing in front of a mirror all the time or allowing him to scrawl his
This was her night and she was determined to enjoy it.
Chapter Six
Al woke late with a feeling of apprehension. He didn’t feel that good, in fact he felt dreadful.
He lay in bed, opened his eyes, and did not feel like getting up at all.
He knew why he felt bad. It was fear, plain honest-to-goodness fucking nerves.
The forthcoming tour was bugging the hell out of him.
Why was he so nervous? He had tried to figure it out. It wasn’t like he had never been on the road before; he had done many successful tours. But the last one had been two years previously, and two years was a long time between gigs. OK, so there had been the cabaret dates, the television spectaculars, the records. But basically what Al
liked
, what he
wanted,
was that contact with a huge live audience. Going out there and doing your thing was what it was all about. The ultimate high.
He had made so much money in the last few years. If he wanted to pack it in and never work again he would be more than set. So the records weren’t selling so well – they tried to keep it from him, but he was well aware of every happening in his career. So what did the tour
really
mean to him?
It meant finding out how the people felt. Were the same fans who had been out there two years ago still going to be around? Were they still going to react with the same degree of enthusiasm? Was he still the tops? Or was he, at thirty-seven, a little too old for the adulation and hysteria? Would he now be regarded as just another establishment star?
He still looked great. He still sounded the same. Was that good or bad? Would they expect him to have changed?
And would his voice still be up to it? Would it survive the strain of God knows how many performances in vast stadiums?
Al coughed nervously. He wished the goddamn tour would start already. Every morning he woke up to the same fears and it was getting him down. He couldn’t even discuss his thoughts with Paul, he didn’t want to give voice to his doubts. Maybe when he got home he would tell Edna, but knowing her she would probably suggest that he cancel the whole tour and stay at home. Her secret dream was that they would lose all their money and move back into one room.
Edna was still the same sweet, simple girl that he had married. She hadn’t changed with his success. She hadn’t grown.
In a way Al was grateful, but in another way he resented her. Why didn’t she read more? Entertain? Wear beautiful clothes?
Improve
herself?
He had changed, and he was glad of it. When he had started in the business he had been very rough, a right layabout. Now he could go anywhere, meet anyone, and feel perfectly at ease.
Edna was more like a mother than a wife. Always there. Always uncomplaining. Hot meals. Clean shirts. She was the one who took his cock out to massage his balls because his stage trousers were too tight. That was about the only time she took it out too. He sighed. Every day the bridge seemed to get wider.
Of course he should never have got married. But then he would not have had Evan, and it was wonderful to have a son, even if the boy did need taking in hand.
How many happy marriages did he know of? How many that lasted longer than five years? In the world he moved in now – not many. At least he could trust Edna. She would never think of looking at another man. And she loved him for himself, the whole Al King bit meant nothing to her.
He sighed again. Then he remembered Paul was supposed to be arranging lunch for him with – what was her name the beauty contest winner – Dallas. Yeah. Al grinned. Not a bad bit of crumpet.
He consulted his digital watch to discover it was eleven-thirty. He hauled himself out of bed, and launched into thirty push-ups. Christ, but they got more difficult every day.
Lunch with a girl called Dallas. What would she be like?
Like the rest. Pretty but dumb. Either posing in front of a mirror all the time or allowing him to scrawl his
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