How I Left the National Grid by Guy Mankowski Page A

you fight me, I’ll make sure you never manage another band again. There won’t be a spotty four-piece in the world that’ll go near you. I’ll make you that toxic.’
    ‘This isn’t about me, Andrew. It’s about them. You were pretty unreasonable during the meeting. You were forcing them to promote an album that they say isn’t ready, reneging on all the reasons the bandsigned with you. Not exactly the front you presented when you courted them, is it?’
    ‘I had no idea they were going to churn through producers like they’re sweets in a hotel lobby.’
    ‘You signed up for the journey. This is their livelihood. Robert will pay for the damage to your car…’
    ‘Bon?’
    She waved a hand at me, ‘And allow the album to come out too, if you don’t sue him.’
    Cunningham smiled.
    Had me where he wanted me.
    ‘If he wants to battle…’ I started.
    ‘What?’ Cunningham said, leaning forward. ‘You really want to battle? Your album will recoup the money we laid out for you, and our lawsuit will make sure you’re too busy gripping the oak to ever record again. You’re finished either way.’
    ‘Why are you doing this?’ Bonny said. ‘You got into a business working with artists, but at the first sign of trouble you screw them over.’
    ‘Don’t buy into it, Bon,’ I said. ‘He wants me to lose it. Then they can add that to their list of grievances and use that as well. They’re vultures.’
    Bonny’s hand went on my shoulder. ‘What do you want to do then, Rob?’ She started whispering. ‘You have little option.’
    Cunningham leaned forward. ‘She’s right, sport. You have no choices. The record comes out next month. And as well as fixing the car with your money, I want it valeted and cleaned too. By you, personally.’
    ‘And then you won’t sue?’ I had to admire how Bonny kept fighting.
    The grocer laid down his pen. Cunningham looked straight at Bonny. ‘Oh, he said. ‘Let’s not make promises we can’t keep.’
    I lunged for him then. A thin arm, wrapped in fur, holding me back. He chuckled.
    ‘You don’t scare me,’ he said.

6
    Perhaps it was the sheer number of people within it, but the gallery in which Elsa worked seemed larger than Sam remembered. Walls that were bare only a few hours ago were now resplendent with Gavin Holding’s lavish cityscapes.
    Sam took a glass of champagne from a side table and made his way over to a piece. Elsa was nowhere to be seen. A man with a monocle told Sam to fetch him an orange juice, which only exacerbated his feeling that he should be serving the champagne, not drinking it.
    Each picture portrayed a different modern landscape. ‘Mezzanine’ depicted a clean white cube of a home. The surrounding grass had started to reclaim it.
    Sam pretended to deeply consider the pictures on the wall as he sensed Elsa’s eyes at the back end of the room. But her gaze eluded him. He learnt that her eye movements were in fact intended for her boss Malcolm, stood just a few feet away behind him. Embarrassed by his efforts he recoiled, wondering if he had ever seen her in that tight, revealing red dress before. It accentuated curves of her body, ones that her outfits rarely flaunted. A man with half-moon glasses was looking down at a cheque book and her cleavage at the same time. Elsa was motioning to Malcolm.
    Sam had never seen Elsa so invigorated, her skin rosy and her muscles clenched.
    As he finished his glass he realized how dense the air was, clouded by all the gassy exchanges. He needed to take a breath.
    He had his head down as he approached the door. It was only as the breeze from the outside pushed onto him that he realized Bonny was standing in the doorway.
    The fur on her coat bristled in the wind and the glittered shadow around her eyes was darker, giving her a glamorous,gothic air.
    ‘Well, I didn’t expect to see you here,’ she said.
    Somehow, he didn’t believe her.
    Her manner had changed, from the bruised brusqueness of her