Next day it was a waiting game, it felt like watches, and clock's hands were trudging through tar, the sun rose early like a grouchy parent and pushed everyone out of their beds. It was warm anyway, which didn't help.
In the air clouds were dotted around the sky like mirangues, filled with rain instead of sugar, which would probably fall out later, making the day less sweet.
When they arrived at the dock the rain had taken hold, wrapping around the world like a wet blanket on a radiator dripping slowly but tactically on the docks.
It was just as busy now as it had been the previous day, the same throngs dotted around, they were apparent parisites on the face of the queens England. Because all they made was music, or sculptures or pretty pictures, nothing essential for living.
Nothing they could bottle or tax or even use to sell things.
Which of course to the world outside was useless.
Over on the far side was a young man, he must only have been 20 and he was engulfed by a gaggle of giggling, greying men.
Chris looked up from his feet and saw the sweat pouring off the kids head from where he was standing, his heart stammered, then he turned to the others and said "they're laughing at that kid. Wonder why... They don't look the types to be seen around us, never mind him."
And then he realized.
They were probably his producers and the owner of his record label. He shrunk away from them, a child in their eyes, an easy target.
The group stormed over, their feet splashing and thudding on the cobbles.
"Hey hey hey, what did he ever do to you?" Will began, putting his shoulder on the shortest, youngest man, who turned around and smiled grimly at him.
"Its really none of your business. You wouldn't understand anyway if we told ya."
"Ooh I don't know" chimed Johnny "I think I can stretch my intilect to get this situation"
"We're this little Scamp's record company... Or most of it. The working bits that get him radio play and fame and girls."
"I get it" johnny smirked.
"Naw you don't you arrogant git. When was the last time you got girls? Anyway, turns out he's not what we expected. We had to drag im out of his hiding place. I thought up the idea that girls will like him even more with a rugged military look about him. They like a tough guy, a bad boy."
"A hard-arse" guy slipped in.
"A blank canvas with a pretty face" said a rather imposing figure at the fringe of the group. He lumbered forward, limping so he looked like a tree chopped to within an inch of toppling flat on its face.
Then he smiled patronizingly at the boy, who flinched away from him.
"Because by god it is a pretty face."
The group cringed, and watched as the giant of a man inspected every inch of the mans face.
The atmosphere poured with tension, like water into a kettle slowly heated, until boiling.
”For Gods Sake!" Chris yelled, effectively the whistle as the steam and tension escaped.
The bulk of muscle twitched and turned his head to look at him, his hand gripped tight on the young man's chin
"Leave it! Please."
Then a slimy smile slid like grease across The more talkative man's face.
"What? Jelous are ya?"
"Why would I be jelous of a grease ball like you? Why would ANYONE? I'm not. I'm not. I'm-I'm going for a drink."
And so he did.
***
An hour or so later they found him
He hadn't gone for a drink, he was sat silently hunched up, his back pressed up against the wall. Somehow it seemed, nobody noticed he was there, sat on the street outside a pub.
"CHRIS! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING SAT HERE? THE VANS ARE JUST PULLING UP TO TAKE US TO... WHEREVER."
He looked up doe-eyed from his feet, "go without me. I'd do more harm than good."
