Page 84 of Caught in a Storm

The beers arrive, and Lawson groans up at the ceiling. “You do, eh?”

Billy tosses the baggie onto the bar, giving up, because it doesn’t matter. Let it swell; he doesn’t care. “Yeah, I do.”

“You know you’re making this difficult for me, mate, right?” says Lawson. “Truth is, I rather like you.”

Despite the obvious conflicts here, Billy finds that he rather likes Lawson, too.

“When I saw you at first,” says Lawson, “on my phone—you know, the Internet—I was like, ‘Well then, this’ll be easy enough. Look at this tosser.’ No offense.”

“Oh, no, really, why would that be offensive?”

“Point being, I underestimated you. Now that I’ve gotten a look at you—seen you get your bell rung and pop right back up—I understand why she fancies you. You’re a likable bloke. Shit, I understand why the world fancies you. You should think about getting a publicist, by the way. You could really leverage yourself. You have any idea how hard it is for a man to trend online right now, for something good? Virtually impossible. It’s usually you’ve punched a valet or accidentally had a wank on Zoom. Well done there.”

“Um, thanks?”

Lawson pushes his empty pint glass away, starts on his bottle of Budweiser. As Lawson checks his teeth in the bar mirror, Billy wonders what’s happening back at the house. He keeps thinking about the look on Margot’s face when she saw Nikki. It was like when Caleb’s plan fell apart at Charm City Rocks weeks ago, and Margot stood silently, lost looking, like a fighter trying to stay upright. He knows that he loves her, because he’s begun absorbing her emotions. He feels joy when she smiles—and especially on the rare occasions when she laughs. Now he feels pain at the thought of her pain, a literal ache in his dumb guts.

“I’m gonna be honest with you about something,” says Lawson.

“Okay. Have you not been being honest?”

Lawson laughs. “Not entirely. Remember, I’m quite good at pretend. You see, up until now, I was intent on essentially ruining your life, because you were my sworn enemy.”

“Oh.”

“I laid it out for Mar last night,” Lawson says. “Was pretty clear about it. Told her I wanted her back. Told her I could help make her famous again. I mean proper famous—not all this Internet rubbish. I kissed her.”

“You kissed her?”

“Settle, mate. On the hand. Cheek as well. Cheek or not, it was a good one. And I offered to give her one on the lips as well. And it woulda been ace. A proper knicker-dropper.”

“I’m…I’m waiting for the ‘but’ part,” says Billy.

“However,” says Lawson. The actor sips then, smooths the top of his hair in the mirror. “I told you this morning that she said she needed to have a think, you know, me and her—me versus you—all that.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, that’s not precisely what she said. She actually told me to fuck off.”

“She did?”

Lawson drinks some more. “In a matter of speaking, yes. I was surprised as well. Kissing. Getting back together. Instant worldwide fame and fortune. Might as well’ve told me to shove it all straight up my own arse.”

Billy catches his reflection again. His face is puffy, but he’s smiling. “Wow.”

“She fancies you, apparently.” Lawson claps Billy’s back, which becomes a surprisingly warm squeeze. “Again, well done.”

“Thanks.”

Lawson points at the bartender. Somehow his Budweiser is gone already. “Oy, enough of this. Back to the Boddingtons. Two of ’em.”

“You know it’s like not even eleven o’clock, right?” asks Billy.

“Get fucked, mate. I’m drowning my sorrows. Believe it or not, I’m not accustomed to being told no by women.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. I’ve read the articles.”

“I’ve often not been a very good person, Billy,” says Lawson. “That was particularly the case with Mar, back then. But I want to do right by her for a change, so I’m gonna step aside.”