Page 82 of The Deviation
He makes a tutting sound. “Spoil sport.”
At that moment, the door opens and three people sweep into the room. The first introduces herself as Genevieve, the CEO of Rush. Arthur is second, and the third is Rush’s lawyer.
I zero in on Arthur—the man who threatened to make private details about my life public knowledge, without my consent. Impeccably dressed in a navy suit, with neat salt-and-pepper hair, he’s a smug looking son of a bitch. He’s expecting us to fall in line with whatever plans Rush has for us, like the hungry little rock stars they believe us to be.
Giving in to a mischievous smile, I choose the seat directly opposite. I’m about to take great pleasure in disappointing him.
THIRTY-THREE
______
CALUM
It’s after midday when Hannah gets what feels like the three-millionth text from Oz.
“The meeting with Rush is over,” she says, frowning at her phone. “Oz is on his way out of the city now. He has to work this afternoon.”
I turn my head on the arm of the couch and grab my phone from the coffee table. Nothing from Johnny. “Is the tour going ahead?” I ask, not bothering to sit up.
Hannah taps at her phone for a bit and then waits. “He’s responding,” she murmurs, right before letting out an infuriated shriek. “It’s going ahead as planned, but this is a good thing. Trust me.” Jamming a finger on the phone, she puts it to her ear as she storms out of the room. “Tell me how this is a good thing for my bro—” The slam of her bedroom door cuts the end from her sentence.
Taking a deep breath, I release it with a slow, shuddering exhale. “Thisisa good thing,” I say to the empty room. It’s good for Fifth Circle. This is what I want for them.
The acknowledgment does nothing to remove the crushing weight from my chest. The last two days have been a maelstrom of phone calls and emails. I’ve contacted every management company in Brisbane and its surrounds, touched base with my contacts in the industry, and introduced myself to job recruiters. When that was done, I spent hours trawling through multiple job websites, applying for anything that seemed even vaguely promising. Now, I’m stuck in the limbo that is waiting. I figure, ifI’m ever going to take some time out to feel sorry for myself, it’s best to squeeze it in now.
Lifting my still silent phone from my chest, I wonder if I should call Johnny. He might be pissed with me, considering I’ve ghosted him for the past two days. It’s not that I don’t want to talk to him. I do. But I don’t see how the two of us will work in the long-term and I’m struggling to come to terms with the possibility of a future without him.
I’ve lost my job, possibly my career. In a few weeks Johnny will leave the pharmacy behind for good and go on tour. He’ll be thriving, both as a person and a musician, while I’m stuck here figuring out how to make ends meet. By the time he returns, who knows how he’ll feel about us. People change their minds about what they want all the time.
A familiar pounding starts up on the front door, and I jump up from the couch. My fingers try to tunnel through my hair, but they get caught in knots. Glancing around, I see the mess scattered around my apartment. Multiple scrawled to-do lists. An empty pizza box. Coffee cups and my discarded hoodie.
“Calum,” Johnny’s muffled voice comes from outside the door. “Please, let me in.”
Sighing, I turn away from the evidence of my anxiety and try to school my features into something less than despairing. Johnny’s future has been saved from the broken remains of my career. It’s something to be grateful for, even if I’m not actively feeling it.
Once my smile is firmly in place, I open the door. “Hey—”
It’s as far as I get before his arms are around me. His face lowers into the curve of my neck and the scent of him invades my nostrils. All my good intentions collapse. My body sags against his. Clawed fingers clutch at his jacket and my eyes burn.Whatever I have to do, I’ll do it. Please, please, please. Don’t let me lose him.
After a long moment, he pulls back enough to press his mouth against mine with a low hum of satisfaction. “I have good news,” he says against my lips. “You can quit your job search. At least for now.”
I stiffen, my gaze narrowing as I straighten my arms against his chest. I can feel his heart pounding, even beneath the layers of his suit. “Tell me you didn’t make a deal with them about coming out to get my job back.”
“No,” he’s quick to assure me. “I know you don’t want that. This is…” he pauses to huff out a laugh, his smile wide, “this is so much better.”
“Johnny?” We both turn to see Hannah coming out of her bedroom, shoes on and a bulging backpack over her shoulder. With a short squeal she rushes over to give him a hug. “I can’t believe what you did.”
I’m still reeling from the sight of my sister hugginganyoneother than me, and recently Oz, when her words register. I meet Johnny’s gaze. “What the hell did you do?”
Hannah releases Johnny. “You haven’t told him?”
“I just got here,” he says with a smile.
“Oh, right.” She backs up towards the door. “I’m gonna go to the library for the afternoon and then I’m meeting Oz for dinner and staying at his place. So, you guys will have the whole night to, you know, talk. Or whatever. See ya.” The door slams shut before I manage to get a word in.
Johnny gestures to the couch, still grinning from ear to ear. “You might want to sit down for this.”
The second my butt hits the cushion I’m staring at him. “I’m sitting. Now spill.”