Time to put the past to rest.”
“Who’s to say I haven’t?” I shook off his hand and picked up my suitcase. “Maybe I just don’t want the bother of having someone mixed up in my life right now.”
“You did last night.”
“Yes, and I’m regretting it already.”
“What about all the other things? You know this exile you’ve put yourself in? This life you’re living isn’t the one you were destined to follow. Why deny it?”
“Look Angus, old friend, we’ve been down this road before, dozens of times. Nothing has changed. I’m through making music. It doesn’t interest me any more.”
“Bollocks! Then why the hell are you still hanging around on the fringes of the music business? You do want in again, and you’re too stubborn or too stupid to see it!”
“Take me to the airport, or don’t, but I’m leaving,” I replied tensely.
“All right, all right, but I’ll take you only as far as Dunoon. After that, you’re on your own. I am not crossing the Clyde,” he answered, as he grabbed his coat.
The roads were in better shape, but the ride was hardly less hair-raising, since daylight was still a few hours away. At least Angus knew the road well, and the Rover had better traction. As we descended from the hills to sea level, I came to a decision.
“We weren’t strictly on the level with you last night about the Jaguar.”
My friend continued staring straight ahead. “I’m aware of that.”
I was startled. “How?”
“Because whoever smashed my automobile had to have been very angry. You’re not the type to cause people to behave that way, and from what I’ve seen, neither is your lassie.”
“She’s not my lassie!”
Angus shrugged. “So what did happen?”
I gave him a more accurate version, still leaving out the part about Regina’s father. It was up to her to tell him about that.
“So six great lumping bastards were chasing one wee lassie? There’s more to this story than you’re telling me.”
“Be that as it may, I’m telling you this so you’ll know.”
“Know what?”
“Look, they might show up at your door. These are people you don’t want to mess with.”
“You did.”
“Only because I didn’t have a choice. Just take this as a warning. If I were you I’d go on holiday to the south of France or head to the Caribbean.”
“No one chases me from my place!”
I slumped in my seat, having known before the conversation had started that it would end like this. Well, at least I’d tried to warn him. I just hoped he didn’t get punched in the nose or knocked around if they showed up. Angus always was as stubborn as a mule.
He put his hand on my arm as we pulled up at the ferry dock. “What am I supposed to tell The Princess when she wakes up?”
“Here, I’ll write a note,” I said, taking a scrap of paper and a pen from my coat pocket. I scribbled a few lines and handed the result to Angus.
“I’ve had to go back home suddenly. Glad to have been able to help you—and get to know you. Best of luck in the future. You’re a really great person.” Angus shook his head. “That’s cold, Michael, very cold. And what am I supposed to do with her after she’s read this? After all, you brought her here.”
I opened the door, letting in a blast of cold air. “She’s a big girl. Let her decide.”
***
While waiting for my bag to come down the chute in the baggage claim area, I got on the phone to my business, knowing full well that I should have called them the day before.
A crisp voice answered, “Quinn Musical Equipment, Canada’s backline specialists. How may I direct your call?”
“Let’s see, Kevin, how about connecting me with the Department of Phone Answering Bullshit?”
“Oh, it’s you boss! Where you calling from?”
“The airport. I came back early. Anything up that I should know about?”
“That huge order for the DataSwitch tour went out right on time, no hitches. We got a call about quoting for the Downtown Jazz Festival, and a little walk-in business. Not much else since the last time we talked.”
“You did get a certified cheque and have DataSwitch’s road manager sign the damage waiver, didn’t you? Remember what happened the last time those idiots used our equipment.”
Kevin didn’t try hiding his bored tone. “Yes, I remember: most of it had to be thrown on the scrap heap, because they’d decided to pull a Who the last night of their tour and trashed everything. You remind us about that at least once a week.”
Even though it mightn’t sound like it, I had a good crew, and I cut them a lot of slack in how they spoke to me. But when it mattered, they knew who the boss was, even though I seldom had to exercise that particular power.
“Well, if there’s nothing requiring my urgent attention, I’m off home, and I will see you first thing in the morning. I’m knackered.”
“Oh, yeah, I forgot one thing,” Kevin said. “Betty the Customs Bitch just called to say they had a large flight case that came in. They’ll have it cleared by morning. She wants to know if we’ll pick it up, or should they deliver it. Is it what I think it is?”
Kevin had called Betty the “Customs Bitch” ever since he’d put the make on her and she’d laughed him off, but she was good at her job and gave me great service.
“Must be,” I answered. “We weren’t expecting anything else. That was bloody fast! I only bought the mellotron three days ago!” The lads at Rugely Electronics had the reputation of always being prompt with everything. “I’ll phone Betty and take care of it.”
I made that call, saying we’d pick up the mellotron the next morning, grabbed my bag, retrieved my car from the long-term car park and headed downtown.
During the forty-minute drive, Angus lectured me about my disappointing life. He didn’t have to be in the car to do that, because I could hear his voice perfectly well in my head.“You can’t keep running away from life, Michael, because when you finally decide you want to take part in it again, you may find it’s too late.”
***
Much as I generally prefer being alone, I could never feel comfortable in a place as remote as the one Angus had chosen. It was rather odd that gregarious Angus lived in the middle of nowhere, while withdrawn Michael always went to ground in the middle of a city.
My present digs suited me quite well: a loft renovation just west of Toronto’s downtown core. I’d bought the place when it wasn’t yet trendy to live in a renovated factory. Now they’re all turning into yuppie enclaves, and the prices have gone right out of sight. Since I didn’t want people (primarily the lead singer from my former band) to know where I live, I’d taken great pains to preserve my anonymity. The phone number was unpublished, the ownership of the loft was through a numbered company, and even my staff only knew how to reach me via cell phone.
Angus had commented on all that, too, the first time he’d visited. Regardless of whether his observations about me bore any credence, from an early age I’d always preferred my own company much of the time and didn’t find it strange nor wearing.
My place was in a four-storey, rather imposing brick structure almost a century old. They’d made typewriters and other office machines there, before the firm finally went belly up in the sixties. I’d