Page 56

NOAH

Put your foot down

When I drag Callum into the foyer of the speakeasy forty minutes later, I’m about ready to punch someone. The traitor sunk more than a couple of free beverages in the small time we were here and is now high fiving everyone as we make our way out of the establishment, his arm looped around my neck.

“Stay here,” I command him, leaning him against the wall. “I’m getting our phones. Where’s your ticket?”

Callum pats his pockets before shrugging. “I dunno.”

I groan under my breath, dipping my hands into his pockets. Callum giggles as I search him and kisses my face as I rifle through his wallet. “Bro, I’m not missing Millie’s show because you lost your ticket.”

“ You lost your ticket,” he slurs.

I offer him a hard smile. “So helpful. Wait here.”

The woman behind the counter retrieves my phone from its lockbox and tells me without Callum’s ticket, we will not be collecting his.

“So, we just get him a new phone?” I ask, incredulously.

She quirks an eyebrow. “He can call us tomorrow to sort it out.”

“With what phone?” I snap.

I don’t wait for a response as I return to Callum, grunting with frustration when I realise my battery is dead and cursing myself for my constant bad habit of not keeping it charged when I really need it.

“We’ve got to get your phone tomorrow,” I tell him, glancing at my watch. By some miracle, Millie’s event has just under an hour to go. If we leave now, we should make it for the last half hour. “Come on. There’s a cab out here.”

Callum nods as he gulps from a bottle of water, allowing me to guide him to the taxi. I ask the driver to take us straight to the café.

The driver glances at us in his rearview mirror. “Is that in Fingal Heads?”

“Yes, please hurry.”

“I ain’t driving to another state,” he grumbles. “And look at this weather. I don’t want to get stranded nowhere.”

“There’s an extra two hundred in it for you if you can get us there in twenty,” I tell him, holding up the bright green notes. The driver hastily pulls out of the lot.

Going to the afterparty was not ideal in terms of timing, but it paid off.

Toby and Sam agreed to sponsor me for the first three events of this year’s championships on a trial basis, even having their assistant email me the agreement while we were in the bar.

It’s a bit of a probation scenario, to make sure I don’t mess it up and that it’s worth their while, but I don’t care about any of that—because I won’t mess it up.

I’ve got sponsors, ones that are drowning in money and good press, who have already organised merchandise for me to wear next week.

Mack is going to lose it with excitement.

I tip my head back and let out a relieved laugh. Things couldn’t get any better.

Callum smiles drunkenly next to me. “Why you laugh?”

“I’m happy, bro.” I slap him on the thigh. “We did it.”

“Toby and Sam said yes?” he asks, glassy-eyed.

I nod, grinning. “They said yes.”

Callum lets out a wolf whistle and starts punching the air. “Fuck, yes!”

I laugh at him. “I can’t wait to tell the boys and Millie. Hell, I might even have a beer to celebrate.”

Callum’s busy dancing to whatever’s playing on the radio when I notice the clock inside the car reads 6.07pm. My stomach lurches, and I snap my head back at my watch. Nope, definitely 5.07pm.

The song on the radio fades into a DJ chatting through the speakers. “This is 93.4 FM, the Gold and Tweed Coast’s number one hit music station. My name is Todd Hanson, and I hope you’re staying dry out there . . .”

I know what the announcer is going to say before the words leave his mouth, and I feel the blood drain from my face.

“It’s gone five o’clock on the Gold Coast, six o’clock on the Tweed Coast. Stick around while we play some more hits on the Coast’s number one hit music station . . .”

A silent scream of panic fills my mind as I realise the enormity of my mistake. I forgot about daylight savings. The party was over the border in Queensland, where everything is an hour behind. It might be just after five o’clock here, but it means once we cross back into New South Wales . . .

No, no, no. This can’t be happening.

I make eye contact with the driver in the rearview mirror. “Put your foot down.”