Chapter Twenty-Two Mo
Chapter Twenty-Two
MO
Rhona shut the door behind Mo and Netta as they left. They hovered on the front step, Mo rubbing his hands together against the cold, their breath making steamy clouds in the night air.
‘I can give you a lift back to the hotel if you’d like?’ he offered. ‘It’s pretty late to be catching the bus.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah. No problem at all,’ he said. ‘I’ve got a bit of a drive to get home so an extra twenty minutes is nothing.’
‘That’d be great,’ she said. ‘Thanks, Morrison.’ She wrapped her jacket tight around her body with one hand and fished a knitted hat from her bag with the other, briefly letting the coat go to slide it over her hair.
‘Mo,’ he said. ‘Just call me Mo.’
‘Okay,’ she said with a brief smile. ‘Well, thanks then, Mo.’
‘The car’s just over there.’ Mo pointed his keys at the Jeep and beeped it unlocked. ‘Let’s go.’
He opened the passenger door for Netta and waited for her to get in before closing it and making his way around to the driver’s side.
He took a beat before he opened his door, acknowledging the unfamiliar feeling of butterflies smashing around in his belly.
He slid into the driver’s seat and pulled the seatbelt across his body, checking that Netta’s was on too before firing the engine.
Its throaty rumble seemed even louder than usual in the icy silence.
‘This is nice,’ said Netta, looking around the cabin as they pulled away from the kerb. ‘It suits you.’
‘Oh, thanks,’ he said, pleased. He loved the Jeep. ‘Do you have a car, back home?’
‘Ah, well, I drive a very lovely old 1971 Volkswagen Beetle,’ she said. ‘Cherry red.’
He could hear the smile in her voice. ‘Now that’s cool,’ he said. ‘Do you drive it or push it, mostly?’
‘Ha, ha,’ she said drily. ‘For your information, I only have to push it a couple of times a week. It was my mum’s and I’ll never part with it. Probably when it falls apart, I’ll have the pieces framed and hang them around the house.’
Mo chuckled.
‘Or apartment, I should say,’ she continued. ‘My partner and I broke up just before I left, so it’s back to apartment life for me.’
‘It didn’t have anything to do with you coming here, did it?’ Mo said. ‘The break-up?’
‘No, no. It was … Well, it was a lot of things, I guess,’ said Netta. ‘Ultimately, we just weren’t right for each other.’
Mo raised an eyebrow at her. ‘That sounds very diplomatic.’
‘Well, that and he turned out to be a … Oh, I don’t even know what to say,’ she said. ‘It all just turned out to be a huge mess.’
They were silent for a while as Marylebone slid into Paddington, the streetlights smeared like watercolours on the wet road as they made their way to Notting Hill.
‘Dinner was nice,’ she said, changing the subject. ‘Rhona and Don are great.’
‘They are, aren’t they?’ he said with a grin of affection for his friends. ‘They loved you, too, you know. You were a big hit. They’ll probably try to adopt you if you’re not careful.’
He caught her smiling to herself out of the corner of his eye.
She was so cute in that hat. She was cute full stop.
He cleared his throat as though doing so would clear the thought from his mind too, and turned into Portobello Road, void of its daytime colour and throngs of people.
A few windows remained lit, glowing signs of life on the otherwise sleeping road.
The Royal Crown came into view and Mo pulled over, stopping near the front door.
Netta turned to him as she unclicked her seatbelt. ‘I’ll think about the gala.’
‘Thank you,’ he said, studying her face.
‘As the record company said to me this morning, I need to manage my “optics”.’ He rolled his eyes.
‘I know it must seem ridiculous, but having you by my side might help change the narrative, or at least give the media something else to talk about, and I really need this record to go through.’
‘Look, to be honest, I think the whole thing sounds nuts and the thought of me being there making any difference at all seems like a very big stretch,’ Netta said, bluntly.
‘But there’s something I could use the money for, and it’s time sensitive, so if I wait until I can afford it myself, then it might be too late.
It’s just … I’m not sure I’d cope with being in the spotlight. ’
Mo drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and nodded in understanding. ‘There’ll be cameras in your face and a lot of wankery to be honest. We’ll probably end up in the paper the next day—’
Netta nodded. ‘I know.’
‘It’s a whole machine, this career. Lots of moving parts.
’ As the words left him, it struck him how tired he sounded.
He was tired. Of it all. ‘I need to at least try and keep the ship afloat a bit longer. The fans are expecting another album. I don’t want to let them down.
And Rhona’s worked so hard for me. I don’t want to let her down, either.
Plus there’s this other thing, something really important, that relies on my financial support.
I can’t let it die just because of optics. ’
He rested his head back and turned to look at Netta. Her brow was creased in thought. Or worry. Or very possibly a bottomless well of disdain for him and his stupid celebrity problems. Her hand hovered on the door handle, ready to eject.
‘And you really think taking me to the gala would help?’
‘I do. It’d be the first time I’ve taken a woman to anything. And you’re … perfect.’ He felt heat rise in his cheeks. ‘You’d make me look pretty bloody good.’
Netta hesitated, her frown deepening. ‘The thing is, I might not be the best choice if the whole point is to make you look wholesome.’
Mo raised his eyebrows in question.
‘There’s something I need to tell you first.’ Her face was pinched, as though the words were painful to get out. ‘Once you hear it, you might change your mind.’
Mo’s curiosity was an itch he had no choice but to scratch. ‘Is there a bar in there or something?’ He tipped his head towards the hotel entrance. ‘I’ve got time if you want to talk now.’
‘No. No bar.’ She levelled her gaze at him like she was conducting a risk assessment. The gold flecks in her hazel eyes gave them an unnerving quality—like she could see straight into him.
‘You can come up to the suite,’ she said eventually. ‘It’s too cold out here.’
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Let’s go.’