Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
______
CALUM
I’m running out of time. Every tick of the clock on the kitchen wall is a stark reminder.
It’s Tuesday morning and I’m no closer to my goal than I was when Genevieve put the deadline in place.
If I don’t have a contract with Fifth Circle—including all four signatures at the bottom—by Friday afternoon, I’ll be looking at a long weekend. The kind that never ends.
“What’s wrong?”
My head snaps up. Hannah stands at the end of the hallway. She’s only half-awake and her ginger hair is a tangled mess, but she’s conscious enough to glare at me in suspicion.
“Nothing’s wrong.” Straightening from my lean against the counter, I pour what’s left of my lukewarm coffee into the sink. “Just trying to figure out how to get Ned Corbyn to talk to me.”
Hannah knows I’m trying to sign Fifth Circle; she’s as excited by their music as I am. But she doesn’t know the stakes involved. I don’t want her to worry.
“Maybe I should talk to him.” She grabs a bowl and pours an obscene amount of Corn Flakes into it. “I could convince him for you.”
“You’re offering to talk to someone? Who are you and what have you done with my sister?”
“Ha, ha,” she deadpans. “He’s messing with my brother. That’s not okay with me.”
I can’t help but grin at her protectiveness. “That’s sweet, but I don’t think it would be very professional to have my little sister fight my battles for me.”
Spinning around, she holds her spoon against my throat. “I’m not so little anymore.”
“Forgive me,” I say, raising my hands in mock defence. “You are indeed an elderly lady.”
“That’s better.” Pushing her bowl over to the far side of the counter, she plops onto a stool and begins eating while I throw my own breakfast together.
“Where are you today? Uni or work?” I wish there were more potential options, but the university campus and the grocery store where she works part-time are the only two places she tends to frequent.
“Ugh, uni.” She cringes. “I have a Managerial Economics lecture and then, like, three different assignments to work on. They’re all boring as bat shit.”
“You could always switch to a degree in something you’re actually interested in,” I suggest carefully, ignoring the roll of her eyes. “Or you could take a break from uni and focus on something else for a while… like, say, your music.”
“A business degree will get me a corporate job. A corporate job will get me money,” she snaps before shovelling more food into her mouth.
I shrug, as if we haven’t already had this conversation a dozen times. “There’s more than one way to make money.”
Her spoon drops into the bowl with a clatter, splashing milk over the sides. “What kind of brother encourages their little sis—” she stops to correct herself, “their younger sibling to quit studying and chase a career in music?”
She has a point, but so do I. “The kind who recognises your potential and would be at your side every step of the way. The kind who hates seeing how miserable you are in this degree and knows how happy you are with a guitar and a microphone.”
A flash of longing clouds her features. It’s gone just as fast. “Happiness is fleeting,” she mutters, curling a fist around the end of her spoon.
“It doesn’t have to be.”
Her gaze drags its way up to mine, all dewy with sadness. “How would you know?”
I don’t. Of course, I don’t. But in that moment, it doesn’t matter how many birthdays she’s had, all I can see is the terrified thirteen-year-old girl I promised to take care of when we found ourselves all alone in the world. So, I lie, because I can’t bear not to.
“I hope, Hannah. I hope for a happy ending to all this. You should, too.”
Whatever argument springs to her lips is cut off by the sound of my phone ringing.
My first thought is of Johnny. We haven’t spoken since I left his place three days ago.
Maybe he has news. My heart pounds as I pull the device from my back pocket, but it’s an unknown number.
Pushing away inappropriate levels of disappointment, I force myself to answer with a professional flourish. “Calum Ellis speaking.”
A heavy silence ends with a deep inhale before, “Hey. It’s, um, it’s Ned Corbyn.” There’s a short pause before he adds, “From Fifth Circle?”
I rush to pick my jaw up off the floor and reattach it to my face. “Good morning, Mr Corbyn.” I look meaningfully at Hannah as I speak. Her eyes spring wide and she smacks a hand over her mouth. “I know exactly who you are. I’m just surprised to hear from you.”
He chuckles softly. “You and me both.”
“What can I do for you, Mr Corbyn?” Anything. I’ll do anything to keep my job. I clamp my lips shut to stop the desperation leaking out.
“You can start by calling me Ned.”
I smile on a rushed exhale. “Done. What next?”
There’s another pause and my thoughts are a jumbled mess. Did Johnny do this? Did he convince Ned to give me a chance? Am I going to get my promotion after all?
“I was wondering if we could meet up for a chat.”
My fist punches the air, and Hannah bounces around with a silent clap. “Name the time and place. I’ll be there.”
* * *
The pub is quiet when I arrive. After the brightness of the winter sun, the interior seems almost gloomy, but at least it’s warm.
I pause near the entrance, giving my eyes time to adjust. The tables crowding the main room are mostly vacant.
Unsurprising, given it’s almost four on a Tuesday afternoon.
The lunch crowd has long since filed back to their desks, the relief of post-work drinks is yet to come.
An old Crowded House song permeates the air as I make my way across the polished wooden floor. Restless fingers tug at my suit jacket, half doing up the button before falling away again. My gaze darts from table to table, searching for the man who will decide my future.
“Over here.”
I follow the voice to the right, where Ned lifts a hand in greeting from behind the bar.
He’s wearing a crisp white dress shirt, the sleeves folded to reveal strong forearms. The thick brown hair I’ve seen in various forms of disarray is neatly combed and tucked back behind his ears.
He’s no less handsome for being so precisely groomed, but it’s more than his outward appearance that takes me by surprise.
He appears… diminished somehow, like the rock god I witnessed taking the crowd apart at Autumn Skies has zipped himself into a normie suit to blend in with the rest of us.
I approach him with a proffered hand. “Good afternoon, Ned. It’s good to see you again.
” His shake is stiff and abrupt. His lips pressed into a thin line.
He may have called this meeting, but he looks one careless word away from bolting.
I cast about for a topic of conversation that isn’t a pitch. “You work here?”
He casts his gaze about the pub, giving a sharp nod. “It pays the bills. For now.” Those last two words, the way he glances back to me as he says them, make my breath catch. “I’m about to finish my shift. Join me for a beer?”
Anticipation sparks in my veins as I try to look casual in my response. “That would be great.”
“Grab a seat.” He gestures to the booths lining the far side of the room. “I’ll be with you in a sec.”
I choose the booth in the corner. It’s furthest from the other customers and the overhead television where a sports channel plays highlights of the week. I’d like to avoid interruptions at all costs.
Ned speaks briefly to a woman who’s also working behind the bar before grabbing a couple of glasses and filling them with one of the lagers they have on tap.
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I check for new messages.
If Johnny knew Ned was going to contact me, I’m sure he would have given me a heads up, but I still haven’t heard from him.
Part of me wanted to reach out, share the news.
The rest of me refuses to do anything that has the potential to mess this up.
Two beers land on the table, and I look up as Ned slides into the booth opposite me. Putting my phone on silent, I shove it back in my pocket before raising my glass. “Cheers.” Ned responds in kind and we drink.
Our glasses are still touching down when we both start to speak.
“Ned, I want to—”
“First, let me—”
We stop short. There’s an awkward silence, a shared smirk, and then I gesture to him. “Please, you first.”
Ned digs absent hands into his hair, bringing back some of the mussed mess I’m used to. “I’d like to apologise for my behaviour last Friday. It was uncalled for.”
“No need.” I shake my head. “I understand you being wary of some stranger coming at you out of nowhere to promise the world.” I pause before venturing, “You’ve been promised the world before.”
His nod is slow and cautious. He doesn’t speak.
“Instead, you got fucked over.”
Ned swallows, his throat moving visibly. “You could say that.”
“Can I ask why you decided to take a chance on me?”
“I’m not taking a chance on anything yet.” The sharpness in his response is quick, reflexive. There’s no malice in it, but it reminds me to tread carefully. “We’re just talking.”
I nod in acknowledgment of his words. “My question still stands. What changed?”
He leans forwards, one hand lifting to the chain around his neck as he rests his elbows on the table. “Someone reminded me the past doesn’t have to repeat itself. I have the control here. It’s about time I used it.”
“Words from the wise?”
Ned chuckles. “He wouldn’t think so, but yeah. Not to mention the delivery was… convincing.”
His cheeks flush and I’m reminded of the blond spitfire who was with him at the festival. “Your boyfriend?”
He nods. “Toni.”
I grin, making a mental note never to get on the wrong side of the man, especially when it comes to Ned. I might get my eyes clawed out.
“Well, I for one am glad to have this chance to discuss what my company can do for Fifth Circle.” It seems as good as any time to start my spiel. “Rush has been in operation for nearly two decades. We have connections all over the world—”