Page 22

Thirteen

Joah

Last night got away from me, didn’t it?

Bit of a clusterfuck, that.

Don’t really remember much of it, if I’m honest. Woke up this morning in Ys’s hotel room—bruised ribs, no shirt, and no Ys beside me. First time that’s ever happened since we met.

She was pissed, wasn’t she? Or scared? Fuck, I hope she wasn’t scared. I’d rather she tear into me, know what I mean? Proper pissed is better than her lookin’ at me like that—like I’ve ruined everythin’.

Anyway, shit’s properly fucked, and I’ve “really done it this time”—Mick’s words, not mine, as he paces up and down Ys’s floor like a man possessed.

Ain’t seen this many people crammed into her suite before.

Me and her. Richie. Lala. Kekoa—who’s properly pissed off. Mick. Her agent, Jilly. Fry. Chops.

Mick’s on the phone, shouting at someone like his life depends on it. Jilly’s over in the corner giving Ys a right proper bollocking. It’s full-throttle bedlam.

I walk out cautiously—not like me, is it? Ain’t never cautious. But these lot look well pissed.

Me brother clocks me straightaway, gestures my way with a grin that’s owt but friendly. “There he is—man of the fuckin’ hour. Nice of ya to join us.”

Glance ’round. Room’s got the vibe of an intervention, don’t it? Not interested in one of those, thanks.

Ys spots me, and she’s on me in a second—eyes wide, darting across the room like it’s her life’s mission.

Throws herself into my arms, and I swear to god, it’s fucking weird to be loved the way she loves me.

To love her back the same way… To be relieved when I’ve got her in my arms—?

Didn’t know I wasn’t relieved before until I’ve got her now, and then it’s like—fuck.

Everythin’ feels proper good, you know? And if that ain’t a metaphor for fuckin’ all of it—I dunno what is.

Her agent steps forwards, sticking her hand out like this is a business meeting or some shit.

“I wish it were under better circumstances, but it’s good to meet you. I’m Jilly.”

I shake it.

“Joah.” I nod, try to give her a smile—don’t reckon it makes it to me eyes, though.

“Joah,” she repeats, all formal. “You want to walk us through what happened from your perspective?”

I rest my chin on top of Ys’s head, shake my head, and give her a shrug. “Dunno, really—don’t remember.”

That don’t win me any points with the old bird, does it? She takes one of those deep, measured breaths through her nose, all controlled and proper. “Why’s that?”

“Because I was bladdered.”

Another sharp breath through her nose—think she might bloody hyperventilate at this rate. She catches Ys’s eye, then looks at Mick, like, fucking handle this, would you?

Ys is staring at my face, proper fixated on the black eye, brow bent in the middle all worried—it’s cute, don’t mind it.

She touches it, gentle-like, and I don’t wince like—not a fuckin’ prat, me, but Christ—hurts like fuck. Ys knows me too well, mind. Clocked it, even though I’m trying not to show it.

“Are you okay?” she asks, voice all soft and sad. Hate it when she’s sad. Fuckin’ hate it. Makes me feel worse than the black eye ever could.

I reckon she was sad last night. Pretty sure I remember her crying—crying in the taxi on the way back, crying in bed next to me too. Dunno what about—? Me, I s’pose.

“He’s fuckin’ fine—” Mick scowls at her. Don’t care for that tone, do I? Shoot him a look, like wind your neck in, mate , but he doesn’t give a shit. He’s fucking livid. “He’s not the one bottled in the goddamn head, is he?” Mick tells her.

I roll my eyes—can’t fucking help it, can I? “It was a bottle of fuckin’ Fosters, mate—hardly a weapon.”

Richie gives Mick a look, full-on exasperated, like he’s had enough of all of us. “ That he remembers.”

“What was the fight about?” Jilly presses, all business.

“He was talkin’ shite to her.” I point a finger in Ys’s direction. She don’t say a word, just stands there, quiet.

Mick’s eyes go wide, proper fucking dramatic. “If you bottled Finn fucking Williams in the head because you were jealous your girlfriend was talking to him, Joah—swear to god—”

“No—” I cut him off with a sharp look, one that says fuckin’ watch yourself, mate. “I heard him talkin’ shit to her.”

Mick turns to Ys. “What’d he say?”

Her chin tucks down, and she still doesn’t speak.

Never seen her this quiet. It’s weird. Throws me. Don’t like it.

“Might be helpful for us, Ys—that’s all.” Jilly again, softer this time, like she’s trying to coax it out of her.

“Because—” Jilly keeps telling her. “Rather strangely, Finn Williams’ camp haven’t released a statement yet—”

“Well—” She crosses her arms over her chest. “He did say something , but I wouldn’t have thought it was worth being bottled in the head over—”

She gives me a bit of a look when she says it, but she’s not really cross, is she? Reckon she’s a bit fucking pleased, if we’re being honest. Loves being fought for, this one, you know what I mean?

I hook my arm ’round her neck and tug her in towards me.

“It was a Fosters !” I say again, exasperated now that no one’s fucking getting that part through their fuckin’ heads. My girl gives me a look like I’m a twat, but I reckon she just dunno what a Fosters is. Posh girls, man…

Ys looks back at Jilly.

“Joah didn’t hear it anyway.”

“Well, what did he say?” Jilly asks.

Ys says nowt.

“Go on—” Kekoa tells her.

Ys glances ’round the room, proper cagey. To be fair, there’s a lot of fuckin’ faces here. Then she looks at me—shakes her head.

It’s weird. She’s uncomfortable, yeah—but it’s more than that. Like she’s embarrassed or summat? Ashamed?

“Tell me?” I say, quiet. She still looks unsure, and I pretend that don’t sting, but it fucking does. Can tell it’s not about me, though, whatever this is.

Shift myself in front of her, blockin’ out the lot of them. Try to make it feel like it’s just us, just me and her. Tilt my head a bit.

“Hey, Trouble, it’s me. You can tell me anythin’.”

Her eyes, they’re heavier than normal. Reckon I’d say, with some confidence, I ain’t never seen ’em all that light anyway. She breathes out through her nose, like she’s gearin’ herself up, then leans in close—whispers, quiet as a fuckin’ church mouse, what that shitbag said to her last night.

And my jaw—? Goes fuckin’ tight.

I glance at her. “Are you paraphrasin’?”

Ys shakes her head.

“That verbatim, then?” I clarify.

She nods, barely but.

“Right—” My blood is fuckin’ boiling. I look over at my brother, nod my head towards the front door.

“Rich, get your shit, we’ve got a job to finish—” I look at her bodyguard now.

“You too, mate. You’re gonna want a head on a platter for this one— trust me —” I look between my manager and hers. “Where is he?”

“Joah, mate—” Mick sighs, bit of an eye roll. “What are you gonna do?”

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill him, is what I’m gonna do—Where is he?” I ask again. When Mick, the fucking piece of shit, doesn’t answer me, I turn to Lala. “Lala?”

Lala looks caught—put her in a shit position just now, I know that. She knows where he is—think she wants to tell me too. Reckon she’d help me kill him herself if she knew what he said to her best friend.

“Lala, no—” Ysolde gives her a don’t you dare look. Then she turns to me, gives me one in the same vein but sterner. “No. Thank you. But no.”

Shake my head. “No one gets to talk to you like that, Ys—”

Gives me an exasperated look. “You bottled him in the head, Jo. I think he got the message…”

Jilly clears her throat as she clamps her mobile phone to her chest, glancing around the room.

“I’m on the phone with Peregrine Spindle— The Daily Sun are willing to spin the article in our favour—that you were protecting her, defending her, quote some of the less desirable things Williams has been known to say in the past about women, but heads up—” She’s talking to Mick specifically now.

“Perry said the story’s going to be everywhere either way. ”

Rich lets out this sigh. “Fuck.”

“I don’t care—” I shake my head. “Fuckin’ run it.”

“I care,” Mick says.

“I care too,” says Fry, Chops nodding along next to him.

Shake my head at me mates, fucking little traitors. “You dunno what he said to her…”

“Yeah—” Rich scoffs. “No one does, fuckwit, she only told you.”

Give him a glare for that but he’s right—fuckin’ hate it when he’s right. I look over at Ys. “Can I tell them?”

Looks horrified, she does. “No, you cannot tell them!”

“Maybe”—Lala pipes up, talking directly at me—“you should just get out of town for a few days. Lay low?”

Mick nods along. “That’s not a bad idea, is it?”

Guess I see the merit of it, and there’s worse ways to kill time, I s’pose.

Look over at Ys, nod my chin at her. “Wanna go away for a week or two?”

She grimaces. “I have to go to Paris tomorrow.”

“Oh—!” Jilly nods along. “The Chanel swimwear campaign.” Shakes her head like it slipped her mind. “That’s right.”

Shrug, lookin’ at Ys. “I’ll go to Paris.”

Jilly grimaces straightaway. “I don’t know—” Zeroes in on Ys. “It’s a work trip, darling…”

Give ol’ Jilly a manky look for that. “I’m not going to like…fuck it up.”

She takes a measured breath. “Not on purpose, I’m sure.”

“Richie will go,” Mick announces.

I stare him down. “What?”

“Richie will go too.” Mick nods now, like it’s already fucking decided. “Keep an eye on him.”

“The fuck he will,” I say at the same time my brother says, “No, Richie fuckin’ won’t.”

“Joah—” Mick gives me a look.

“No—” I shake my head. “Fuck that. I don’t need a fuckin’ minder —”

Rich makes this pffft sound, fucking pisses me off.

“What was that?” I stare at him. I could go a fight right now. Bit sore from yesterday, but I’m still fucking pissed off, and I feel a bit like throwing a punch, don’t I? “You wanna swing that sound by me again, big man?”

Rich steps towards me, ready—always ready, both of us, for a fight, aren’t we—? Kind of had to be, though. Square my shoulders, go to move towards him and Ysolde stands in my fucking way.

“Joah. Shut. Up.” She overenunciates and the whole fucking room goes quiet.

Weird, because Rich tells me to fuckin’ shut up every other minute, but her saying it carries a weight in this room that I don’t understand or fucking like, frankly.

Ys turns ’round calmly and rests her eyes on Jilly. “Will it help?”

Jilly shrugs, shaking her head. “I don’t know—”

Ys don’t accept that. “You know everything. You have impeccable discernment.” She lifts an impatient brow now. “Will Joah getting out of London help?”

Jilly sighs. “I don’t know whether it’ll help you , my priority, but objectively , yes I think it would help him…to go… somewhere …else…that isn’t here. And behave well …and lay low .”

“Okay.” Ys nods, decided. “Well—let’s, then,” she tells me.

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” she says like she’s the fuckin’ boss. Feel like maybe she is, though? When the fuck did that happen, ey? “And Rich can come—”

I pull a face. “No!”

“Yes.” The boss rolls her eyes at me. “That’s not a big deal.” She shrugs. “It’s probably good if he’s not here either. Maybe you’ll drift from Britain’s consciousness…”

“Yeah, alright—” I roll my eyes at her. “Let’s see how that goes.”