Lyre (5 page)

‘Bullshit!’  The words exploded out of Yuri’s mouth.  She stood up and took a step backwards.  ‘Do you have any idea how many times I’ve heard that?  That children are resilient?  Because it’s not true.  Maybe in the short term but not in the long term.  You’ve got no idea what happens in the long term.  No-one does because they all think that children are resilient and don’t need checking up on.  Except they do.  They do need checking up on!  They’re not resilient.  They need someone to care about them too.’

Medusa remained where she was, regarding her with a serious expression.  ‘I’m sorry.  I did not mean to sound trite.’

The energy rushed out of Yuri. She looked away. ‘Well, okay then.’

‘Why didn’t you die?’ Her voice was quiet.

‘Huh?’

‘Your father died.  You survived.  How?’

‘There was a man.’

‘Who?’ prodded Medusa.

Yuri sighed.  ‘Poseidon.  They called him Poseidon.’

Medusa’s face twisted.

‘Still believe me now?’ Yuri asked half-tauntingly.

One of the snakes reached down and curved across Medusa’s cheek, caressing it.  ‘That Poseidon can do some good?  He wasn’t there in time to save your father, was he?’

‘Yuri?’

She turned around.  Ozzy was standing there, watching her curiously.  ‘What are you doing here?  You just disappeared.’

She turned back to look at Medusa.  Ozzy seemed oblivious to her.  The woman raised her eyebrows.

‘You should run along.’

‘But…’

‘We need to be back at the bus, Yuri.  Jones will flip if we’re late.’

Yuri nodded.

‘I’ll see you again soon, Yuri,’ said Medusa softly, rising to her feet. 

Ozzy grabbed her hand and tugged.  The heat of his skin seared into her own.

‘We need to go.’

When she turned to look back at Medusa, the woman had already vanished.  Yuri nodded again and let herself be led away. 

*

When they finally reached the bus, everyone else was already there and waiting.  Yuri was fully aware of the pointed glances and whispers in her direction when she arrived with Ozzy.  Her gaze landed on Richard, who had a bloody handkerchief clutched to his nose.  He was staring out of the window, slumped down in his seat.

Without thinking, she turned to Ozzy.  He shrugged.

‘Dick had a little fall.  He should learn to be less careless with where he puts his feet.’  Then he sauntered to the back of the bus, taking his place amongst his friends.

She stood there for a moment, wondering whether she should be annoyed at him.  She was perfectly capable of looking after herself.  But in light of what had just happened – that after eight years of wondering if she had some bizarre form of post-traumatic stress disorder, she’d finally met someone who had proven she was entirely sane, after all – she realised she couldn’t care less. Meeting Medusa trumped anything that Ozzy, Richard, or even her mother could say or do.

‘She had nothing to do with it, Yuri,’ Sibyl insisted.

‘I’m expected to believe that, out of the blue, out of the dozens of other considerably more experienced writers, I’m suddenly being given the opportunity to write the cover story for January.  Just like that.’

Sibyl shrugged helplessly.  ‘I admit it sounds strange, but Medusa told me herself.  She wasn’t meddling.’

Yuri shook her head despondently.  ‘The greatest opportunity of my career and I’ll have to turn it down.’

‘I told you!  It wasn’t her!  As implausible as it might seem, it’s a real thing.  You can’t not do it, Yuri.  It would be stupid to back away.  This is everything you’ve always wanted.’

Yuri gave her a grim look.

Throwing her hands up in the air, Sibyl gazed at her in exasperation.  ‘What?’

‘I didn’t tell you what the story is going to be about.  Or rather who it’s be about.’

‘Who could it possibly be about that would make you act like this?  Yuri, it’s
Yell
, not the biquarterly review for the BNP.  It’s hardly going to be some fringe lunatic fascist.  I know you don’t like all that daft celebrity stuff, but that’s the world you’ve chosen to work in.  You can’t be pissed off because you have to interview some stupid model or actor.  It’s the freaking cover story!  Who cares who it’s about?’

Yuri just looked at her.

‘Come on, who…’ Sibyl’s voice died away.  Her eyes widened and she abruptly sat down on the sofa.  ‘Oh.’

‘Now you’re getting it.’

‘I’ll call my great-aunt again.’  She shook her head, temporarily stunned into silence.  Then she shot Yuri a look of genuine sympathy.  ‘You’re right.  You can’t do the story.’

‘It can’t be a coincidence, Sibyl.’

‘Yuri, believe me,’  Sibyl flicked her eyes momentarily upwards.  ‘Medusa didn’t do this.  You don’t want to see him, do you?’ She asked worriedly.

Yuri didn’t answer.  Sibyl nodded to herself.  ‘Yeah.  Okay.  Stupid question.’

‘I can’t turn it down.  Not now.  I’ll be persona non grata at
Yell
if I do.  Someone like me saying no to an opportunity like that?  I was practically drooling at Don’s feet when he told me about the story.  I didn’t find out it was going to be Oz until after I’d agreed to do it.  Well,’ she amended, ‘less agreed and more fell at his feet in worshipful delight like he was freaking Zeus himself.’

Sibyl raised her eyebrows.  ‘I think you’d be more likely to try and stab Zeus in the heart rather than fall at his feet.’

‘Chance would be a fine thing,’ she muttered.

‘You could just come clean,’ Sibyl suggested, ‘tell Don you’ve got a history with Oz and that’s why you can’t do it.’

‘That would make things even worse.  He’d want me to write about it.  And then it would become some awful tabloid feeding frenzy.  I can’t say anything to him.’

‘Doesn’t he know you’re both from the same area?’

‘He knows Oz is from Devon.  I moved around so many times, no-one knows where I’m from.  Not even me.’

‘Right.’ Sibyl took a deep breath. 

‘Maybe this is my chance to prove myself as the ultimate professional.  Ask my questions, maintain my distance, write the story.  And then I’ll never have to see him ever again.’ Yuri rolled her eyes.  ‘Except when, as
Yell
’s so-called professional representative, I turn up to interview him and he refuses to even give me the time of day, just how is that going to look?’

Sibyl’s shoulders sagged.  ‘I take your point.’

‘This is so fucked up.’ She sat down heavily on the sofa, leaning back and rubbing her forehead.

‘I could always do a divination.’

‘No.’

‘Just to see…’

‘No.’

‘Fine.’

They sat in silence for a moment.

‘We could go out and get horribly drunk.’

Yuri flicked a glance at her friend.  ‘That sounds a hell of a lot more like it.  I’ll get my coat.’

*

In retrospect, drinking copious amounts of beer followed by several shots of tequila had not been the greatest idea in the world.  Oily nausea was roiling in the pit of her stomach and her head was throbbing mercilessly.  She closed her eyes and sucked in several slow breaths, attempting to bring herself back to some kind of hangover-less equilibrium.  It didn’t work.  Yuri hadn’t even thought to bring any breath mints with her.  Considering she was one stomach lurch away from sprinting to the restroom to throw up the remainder of what was left from last night’s ill-advised kebab, it would have been a smart move to plan more in advance.  But when Don had called her at eight in the morning to cheerfully burble about how Oz and his entourage had agreed to meet her that very morning, she’d barely managed little more than to pull herself into a cold shower and put on some clothes.  She wasn’t even entirely sure the clothes were clean, but whenever she twisted her head to attempt a surreptitious sniff, her head swam unpleasantly.

Maybe vomiting would be a good idea.  It might settle her stomach and then she could breathe all over Oz and whoever else happened to be in the room and knock them out in one fell swoop.  Then she could make her escape.  She might have to spend the rest of her life on the run from his legions of fans for killing him with morning breath - but it would be worth it.  Yuri frowned.  Of course it was entirely possible that her nausea had less to do with her hangover and everything to do with her now almost debilitating fear at seeing Oz again.

Yuri twisted her hands in her lap.  She could call Don.  Tell him that she wasn’t ready for such a big assignment after all.  It would probably set her career back by about five years but it might be worth it.  She pinched the bridge of her nose.  Or she could phone Cam.  He owed her a few favours.  This was only an initial pre-meeting after all.  Cam could take her place and give her a little breathing space to decide what to do next.  She stood up on rather shaky legs and made a decision.  It was doubtful that anyone from the recording company would notice a switch in journalists.  They’d be too concerned with making sure Oz was presented as the shining hero of chart-topping hits than caring about who was actually doing the presenting.  It was for the best.  It was bad enough having to take on Oz when she was at her best.  With a raging hangover, it would be impossible.

She dug into her bag and pulled out her phone, finding Cam’s number quickly.  Her thumb was just poised to press call when she realised there was someone standing in front of her.

‘Ms. Tateno?’

Shit.  Too late.  She forced a smile onto her face.

‘Hi,’ she said weakly.

The man thrust out his hand. ‘It’s good to meet you.’  He peered at her.  ‘Are you alright?  You look a little…green.’

‘I’m fine,’ Yuri responded, ignoring the lurch her stomach gave and forcing on a mask of professionalism as she shook his hand.  ‘And you are?’

‘Oh, my name is Dirk Duke.  I act as Oz’s agent.’  He had an odd inflection to his voice and spoke with an unusual degree of formality that belied the fact his named sounded as if belonged to a porn star.  ‘Oz is running late so it’s probably best if we get started.  I am sure he will be along shortly.’

Great, thought Yuri sourly.  ‘I can’t wait.’  She hoped she sounded considerably more enthusiastic than she felt.

She followed him through a maze of lightly carpeted corridors to a glass fronted conference room.  Other than a large oval table surrounded by at least twenty chairs, it was completely empty.

‘Are we expecting many people?’

Dirk Duke turned and looked at her quizzically and Yuri realised she’d mumbled her question.  She repeated herself, trying to sound more firm and his face cleared.

‘Well,’ he said, ticking off his fingers, ‘there’s me, Josie, my PA, Jim, the solicitor for Orpheus, the make-up artist, the photographer and his assistants, the record label executives – I think three of them are coming, Greg, who’s Oz’s assistant, and Oz himself.’  He pursed his lips.  ‘Not so many.’

She stared at him, slightly open-mouthed.

‘What?  Is there a problem?  We told your magazine that we wanted our people to do the art so if you’re upset about us bringing our own…’

‘No, no,’ Yuri interrupted.  ‘That’s fine. I just didn’t think there would be so many people for the pre-interview meeting.’  She licked her lips and tried to ignore the roll of stomach acid as her hangover collided with her nerves.

‘Oz is a big star.  Your magazine is, quite frankly, lucky to be given a shot at talking to him in person.  I was surprised when he…’

The agent’s voice trailed off as three others entered the room, acknowledging both herself and Dirk with sharp bobs of their heads and a wave of their hands.  The effect of all three moving in unison was oddly akin to a maneki-neko – a lucky cat ornament with an eternally beckoning front paw.  Yuri supposed the resemblance should mean good fortune, instead, however, she wished she could ask Dirk what exactly it was he surprised about.  Her opportunity was gone though as the trio took seats along one side of the table and immediately launched into business.

‘Dirk,’ nodded the woman in the middle.

‘Alicia.’  His returning tone was polite, but firm, hinting perhaps at an underlying tension between them.  ‘This is Ms. Tateno.’

Yuri leant across the table and took the woman’s hand, hoping that the reek of alcohol emanating from her pores wasn’t overly obvious.  The strength of Alicia’s grip and the hard steel reflected in her eyes made it abundantly clear that she was not someone to be taken lightly.  She gestured Yuri towards a chair opposite.  If she’d been feeling better, she might have rebelled somewhat at such an obvious command, but the truth was that she was glad to be able to sit.  The room was starting to feel stiflingly hot and the collar of her blouse was chafing at her neck. 

She cleared her throat.  ‘Would it be possible to have some water?’

Alicia snapped her fingers in the air and the impossibly young looking man on her left immediately rose and exited with another swiftly executed bob of his head.  Yuri tried not to let her mouth drop open.  What kind of person literally snapped their fingers and had a bevy of minions to leap to their command?  As far removed as her own life was from her childhood, she was beginning to realise that Oz was a million miles further away.

‘The parameters of the interview need to be transparent from the outset.’  Alicia tapped the table for emphasis, and slightly toward Yuri.  ‘Oz will discuss his last tour.  He will touch on his family and background as a source of inspiration for his songs, as well as his feelings towards his incredibly passionate fan base.  He will not answer questions on the band’s lack of new material.’  Her voice hardened almost imperceptibly.  ‘Neither will he be drawn into any answers which involve his political views, the amount of money he makes or his love life.’

The young man re-entered, carrying a large jug of water and several heavy looking glasses on a tray.

‘Room temperature,’ he murmured to Alicia, before setting it down in the middle of the table and re-taking his seat.

Yuri tried to avoid rolling her eyes.  She’d been hoping for some ice to chew on to help her get rid of the unpleasant taste in her mouth. Still, she reached across and poured herself a glass, willing her hands not to shake, then sat back a took a tiny sip relaxing somewhat as the water hit her system and began to calm the churn of her stomach.

‘
Yell
is a human interest magazine, not a political digest,’ she finally responded.  She tightened her jaw and held Alicia’s eyes.  ‘However, without any reference to whom Oz is dating, then we don’t have an article.  It’s what our readers are interested in.’

The corners of Dirk’s mouth turned up ever so slightly at her apparent audacity.

Alicia gazed back, coldly.  ‘It’s non-negotiable.’

As much as Yuri would rather crawl into the nearest, darkest and smelliest sewer than ask Oz anything about his love life, she was fully aware that if she agreed to these terms, Don would probably throw her out on her ear.  All anyone was ever interested in was who Oz was dating.  Was it the leggy model who’d just launched her own fashion label and who he’d been seen with last month?  Were the rumours about him and his personal assistant true?  Or, even more salaciously, was he actually gay and refusing to come out of the closet even in this day and age?  As much as Yuri tried to tell herself that she didn’t personally care, it was the one piece of information that could make or break the article.  At least she knew he definitely preferred girls.

‘Yes,’ she said.  ‘It is non-negotiable.  We can agree the terms of the question and the depth of the answer, but it must be asked.’  She took another sip of water and folded her arms, hoping it made her look as if she was being strong and implacable rather than the truth which was that she pressing against her guts in an effort to quell another sudden queasy lurch.

Several other people entered the room and took up positions around the table.  Alicia didn’t bother to acknowledge them; instead she kept her attention wholly fixed on Yuri.