Aimee’s brow crumpled and she clicked her tongue as she tapped the end of her stylus against the rim of her iPad. “Hmm. I dunno, H. We’d risk running over time. How long’s the track?”
“What song?” Drew interrupted.
“Four-thirty-five,” I said, bypassing Drew.
“What the hell. Sure,” Aimee said. “If you tone down the waffle between performances…which I don’t think will be a problem for you,” she added with a knowing smirk. “I’d like to hear it first, though.”
“No problem. We’ll run it through in rehearsal Thursday.”
Drew slapped his knee. “What fucking song?”
I reached over, danced my fingertips playfully up and down his forearm. “Don’t get jealous, baby. I’ll write one about you soon enough.”
“I’m your manager, pretty boy. I should know this shit.”
I sat back and chuckled. Shrugging, I said, “Call Marcel. He’ll send it to you.”
He tossed me a glower as he stood from the dining table. Reaching into the pocket of his jeans, he pulled out his phone and disappeared into the next room. Marcel wouldn’t be impressed, back in LA, with being awoken at five-thirty AM, and I let out another chuckle as I imagined him rolling over in bed to answer the phone, cursing Drew with all the names he could summon.
“Hey, Aimee.” My voice came out as a hurried whisper as I edged my chair closer to hers, the legs screeching in protest against the tiles. I leaned in, though not close enough to touch. “Can you arrange a couple of VIP entrances to the show on Friday?”
She pulled that face again, clicked her tongue. “Shouldn’t be a problem.”
Then what’s with the face? Was I annoying her? Had she had a bad day? Was something going on that I didn’t know about? You’re overthinking. Probably. Have I been rude again?
“I’ll call the venue, get ‘em to you this afternoon,” she added, interrupting the exasperating voice in my head.
“Uh, no. No, I need them delivering somewhere. In person.”
“Oh. Sure.” She tapped a couple of icons on the iPad, opened a document. “Who and where?”
Where? “Erm…I’m…not exactly sure yet. Need to look her up.” Except I didn’t have a fucking clue where to start, or whether I even should. Not that it mattered. I was gonna do it anyway. I’d started the process a couple of times over the years, but there was an unbelievable number of Helen Jenkins living in the UK. I could’ve put more effort in if I’d wanted, but the fact I hadn’t found her immediately was the only sign I’d needed to convince myself it was a bad idea. Or, at least, it allowed me to lie to myself, believe that it wasn’t my fault, that I wasn’t a selfish prick. That I’d tried.
Fucking bullshit, that’s what that was.
“Want me to find her?”
My neck jerked back in surprise. “You’d do that? I, uh, don’t have too much to go on anymore.”
She cocked her head, poised her stylus. “Hit me.”
I rubbed my hands, took a deep breath, then drummed the table while I gathered my memories. I rolled off all the relevant details I had. Name, mother’s name, last known address, interests. It was all I had, and most of it could have, probably had, changed. “If you find her, she’ll come Friday. She can bring a friend and have access all areas, especially to me after the show. Okay?”
Aimee nodded. “Not a problem. I’ll have to inform Drew, of course, and the rest of the crew, security.” She rolled her hand in an etcetera motion.
“Sure. Yeah. Absolutely.” A wave of emotion surged through my body. I wasn’t sure I recognised it as it fuelled my muscles with an unfamiliar energy. Unable to remain still, I pushed out my chair, paced the room. I felt…excited? Apprehensive? Absolutely fucking terrified?
Guilty. I definitely recognised that the moment my stomach started filling with a heaviness I didn’t like.
“Okay…” Aimee’s voice provided a welcome distraction from thoughts that threatened to take me down. “I’m done here for now.” Standing, she looped the long strap of her handbag over her shoulder and clutched the iPad to her chest. “Say bye to Drew for me, and I’ll catch up with you tomorrow.”
I nodded, smiled. “Later, Aims. And thanks.”
I walked her out, closed the door behind her. Then, I just stood there in the hallway. Not thinking. Not moving. Sort of…numb. It was only when Drew made an appearance, jacket folded over his arm, did I notice I hadn’t gone anywhere.
“There you are,” Drew said, throwing a hand around in a fluster, as if he’d been scouring half the earth in search of me.
“He told you to fuck off, didn’t he?” Marcel wasn’t a morning person.
Drew looked astonished by the idea. “Wouldn’t dare. He did say a final decision hadn’t been made about this new track yet.”
I shrugged, unbothered. As long as I got to sing it Friday, I could live without it making the cut. “It’s a great song,” was all I said.