‘Why did you do it, Andrew? Why did you let him go on stage when he was smacked out of his head?’‘Ah, c’mon,’ protested Ian. ‘It’s not like he hadn’t done it a million times before. How was Andrew to know?’‘It’s not like we’ve ever seen Jack do a gig sober,’ Andrew said defensively. But he looked worried. And rightly so. Andrew was in his early fifties. He’d managed various one-hit wonders in the Nineties, but when he’d ‘discovered’ the Blinds he’d been on the verge of bankruptcy. He had an elderly mother in a nursing home and a load of debt. If the Blinds went tits up, he was going to be selling the Big Issue.Ian yawned. ‘Whatever. We obviously ain’t doing anything for the next few weeks until he’s been in and out of rehab. Better see what parties are going on.’And sort out buying the flat, Nick thought. And concentrate on seducing Lucinda Gresham. He’d felt her eyes on him that night, and when he’d looked at her he’d known she was gagging for it.
