For a Song [#Wattys 2015]

Chapter 14

"So how come you and Mitch are best buddies?"

We sat down at a far corner of The Earth Cafe, Dylan Dorian apparently having no trouble at all convincing the barman to let me back in after a smile and a few smooth words. Just take it easy, yeah Hilly? he told me sternly. Before giving the two of us an owly, questioning sort of look. Probably wondering what on earth had possessed the famous rockstar to take out some sloppy drunk nobody like me.

It was quiet at The Earth Cafe on Sunday evenings; most of the usual patrons having work on Sunday and the bar would be closing soon.Apart from us there was only a man on a bar stool with a tea and a crossword puzzle as well as a couple holding hands over a table, laughing and occasionally leaning over to each other for some gross and fairly uncalled for displays of public affection.

As we grabbed our drinks, Mitch rang the bell to signal last orders and there was a flurry of activity from the staff as they went about washing up and other chores to ensure they would be finished with work and off home as soon as possible. It was a blessed relief to me as it ensured our chat would be a quick one.

"I came with the band a couple times, a few years ago. Back when we were still nobodies touring."

On the surface, you'd think that had to be true. Why would somebody possibly lie about a small fact like that? But I wasn't sure I could ever trust a single word that came out of Dylan Dorian's mouth. It was more convenient for him, wasn't it? To say he'd only been to The Earth Cafe a few times, to make the window of opportunity of him to have met my sister seem that much smaller.

Or maybe I was just going nuts- creating this scenario in my head and ignoring all evidence to the contrary, claiming anything he said otherwise was a big lie so my image- Izzy and Dylan together- would never change. The voice that suggested this sounded eerily similar to my mother. Like an argument she might make in court about the prosecution's presentation of evidence. I didn't let myself believe it any more than I did Dylan Dorian.

"I know you came to Bristol more than once," I told him, in an accusatory tone." I saw you three times at The Pub Upstairs."

Instead of backtracking and panicking at the idea of a house of lies coming toppling around him like I was hoping, Dylan Dorian just looked amused.

"You did? Was that the dive pub with the terrible sound system? That was before Rivers and Rocks. Before we got signed," he smiled more to himself. "Jesus we must have looked so young." And then a vaguely impish look crossed over his features as he peered at me. "Three times? So it's safe to say you liked us."

I thought about saying No, incredibly emphatically. No I thought you were rubbish, actually. But Dylan Dorian was the liar. Not me.

"You didn't wear those glasses you always wear on stage and in interviews now," is what I said instead, a faint curl of my lip to suggest my disgust. "They aren't even prescription are they? I bet the lenses are just glass. Fake name. Fake glasses. Is there anything about you that's real."

"The song's real," he said.

His sincerity made me angry. I clenched my fist.

"So was it here that you met my sister?" I demanded and Dylan Dorian sighed/

"I've never met your sister in my life, Hilly."

"You're sure of that? If you really hadn't ever met her then you wouldn't know who she was not to meet her."

"Uh, what?"

"How can you be sure you've never met her without asking me what she looked like? Don't tell me you go into bars and don't meet girls," I scoffed.