Free Dead Girl Walking by Christopher Brookmyre Page A

significant outlier that had stuck in the guitarist’s mind for reasons not immediately obvious even to himself.
    He listened to Damien talk about the pressures of life on tour, and the stresses Heike in particular had to endure, not merely of being the main attraction, but from being one of only two women in the party. That was when he spotted it.
    ‘I suppose in terms of other women there were also the merch girls: they were on the bus a couple of times, though that wasn’t exactly all sisters together. Heike had a problem with them being there, in fact, but that was way before we got to Germany.’
    ‘Merch girls?’
    ‘Merchandising staff. I think they worked for Bad Candy.’

Pen Portraits
    I could hear raised voices as soon as I opened the door. I was returning from a café on Westgate Road with two heaving cardboard trays, having volunteered to get us all something a bit more appetising than yet another round of instant coffees before we started the soundcheck. All had been calm when I left, although everybody was a little stiff and cranky after getting stuck in a motorway tailback for an hour en route to Newcastle.
    I say voices plural, but mostly it was Heike’s that was carrying; the responses low male mumbling. Heike had quite a register. She didn’t have to shout for it to be loud and forceful, the kind of tone you could feel vibrating your chest.
    ‘We haven’t even soundchecked yet,’ she was blasting. ‘We’ve barely set up. There’s two miles of cable still rolled up and guitars sitting there needing strings.’
    ‘Christ’s sake, it’s only a wee bit of ching,’ came the response. Sounded like Scott. ‘Need something to perk us up after that fucking bus journey.’
    I approached, feeling like I used to when my parents were arguing and they’d seen me in the doorway, so there was no option to sneak away and pretend I hadn’t heard.
    Heike was facing down Scott, the bass player, and Angus, the guitar tech, both of whom were stood with their heads bowed like guilty schoolboys. The others were waiting awkwardly, wishing they could be somewhere else until the aggro was over. Rory looked even more uncomfortable than the rest, which made me wonder whether he had been about to join in before teacher arrived and caught them at it.
    The scene was one we had seen before: Heike overreacting to something she couldn’t control and which, as far as everybody else was concerned, didn’t matter.
    ‘Only,’ she stressed. ‘Only. Does that word not ring any alarm bells about your perspective? It’s a class-A drug. Enough to get you a night in the cells if someone wanted to throw a spanner in our works. And where did you get it?’
    She rounded on Dean, the head of the road crew, and the one I had heard mouthing off about her to the support act in Bristol.
    ‘Did you sell them it? Is dealing your sideline this tour, or do you only specialise in flesh?’
    ‘We’re all fucking adults here,’ he said. ‘You’re their lead singer, not their fucking mother.’
    He walked away, not staying for the scolding like the others.
    ‘I know they’re adults,’ Heike said to his retreating back before directing her next words at Scott and Angus. ‘I just thought you were professionals too. You need something to get you through a
soundcheck
? Are you kidding me?’
    ‘All right,’ Scott said, ‘no, I don’t
need
it, but it was
there
, and—’
    ‘This is how it starts, Scott. Maybe you tell yourself you just want something to celebrate with after the show, or to keep the buzz going when you come off stage. Soon it becomes the thing you’re looking forward to and the show’s the thing between it and you. I’ve seen this before. We
all
have.’
    And with that, she walked away, stomping off outside leaving us all to stare at each other awkwardly for a few moments before Damien geed everybody up to get themselves back to work.
    So, basically, just another day on tour with Savage Earth Heart.
    You’d be