Winded, Jumbo nodded and retrieved the keys from his pocket. He handed them over, eyes downcast. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
“Couldn’t give a fuck, mate. See you later.”
Ollie took the keys and jogged off the bus. Footsteps followed him. He expected Shay, but it was Larry.
“Don’t mind Jumbo,” he said. “He’s upset about falling out with his kin. He didn’t mean nothing by all that. He’s gotta lot of time for you, and he loves Shay.”
Ollie shouldered his bag and looked around for a bench he could park on while he figured out the least painful way to get back to Glasgow. “I don’t care what Jumbo thinks of me. And even if I did, me and Shay are just… friends.”
A tic in Larry’s jaw caught the infinitesimal hesitation. “That ain’t even the point. We all know Shay swings both ways, and it’s cool. It’s always been cool.”
“So what is the point?” Ollie’s patience expired. “You got something else you want to say, Larry?”
“It’s none of my business.”
It really wasn’t, but the masochist in Ollie couldn’t let either of them off the hook. He waited, eyebrows raised, until Larry admitted defeat and sighed.
He took his hat off and rubbed a hand over his head. “Look, I don’t care what you young guns get up to when it’s all gravy, I just don’t want to see that boy get hurt again. His last fella was a git to him, left him hanging, and it weren’t fair.”
“What’s that got to do with me?”
“Nothing, if the restlessness I see in you is all in my pickled old head.”
“How pickled are you?” Ollie was being insolent now, but he couldn’t stop, because even if Larry didn’t know whether his warnings bore any weight, Ollie knew they did. Fetching the equipment would do Shay a favour, but there was no denying Ollie craved the solitude of the mission too. That even the prospect of a taxi ride back to Glasgow wasn’t enough to temper the urge to flee.
I need to stop kissing him.
Chapter Twelve
By thetime Shay had disentangled himself from band politics, Ollie had disappeared. Shay checked the service station, McDonalds, and a nearby bus stop, but he was nowhere to be found.
“Why are you so angsty about this?” Ben said. “I know it takes the piss, but we’ll make it up to him when he gets back. And whatever she’s saying right now, you know Corina will pay him.”
Money was the last thing on Shay’s mind, but he wasn’t about to tell Ben that travelling back to Glasgow by road was Ollie’s worst nightmare, especially as he still didn’t know why.
They trudged back to the bus. Shay’s feet seemed heavier with every step, as though his body was rejecting the prospect of leaving Ollie behind.He probably already left. But it still hurt. More than it should’ve and perhaps even more than the dismay on Ollie’s face when Jumbo had called Shay his boyfriend.Yeah. That was a cracker.
The bus hit the road. Shay retreated to his bed and tried not to let his imagination convince him he could smell Ollie on his pillow. He curled up with his notebooks and wrote some angry lyrics that were so far off-brand for Smuggler’s Beat they made him laugh.Maybe I need an emo metal band on the side.
“Shay?”
His mind still running angsty rhymes, Shay glanced up. Jumbo was beside his bed, dressed in a onesie that made him look like a teddy bear who’d lost its mother. “What do you want, J? I’m tired, man.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“What for?”
Jumbo shrugged. “For being a cockhead?”
“You’re always a cockhead. This shit was different.”
“I know that too.” Jumbo motioned for Shay to budge up and folded his large frame onto Shay’s bed, crushing him with a warmth that had nothing on Ollie’s sinewy arms wrapped around him. “And I’m sorry me and Tuffers got lairy with each other. It’s the sniff, mate. You know it sends me crackers.”
Shay sighed. He wasn’t stupid—he knew Jumbo had been partying way too hard since they’d left home. But the band had a no-drugs clause in their contract. If Corina found out Jumbo and his boys had been rinsing coke, they’d all be stuffed. “I need you to calm the fuck down. If you keep messing up, you’re going to do us all out of a job.”
“Not you. The record company would never let you go.”
“Even if that’s true—which it’s not—what about the others? You think Larry wants to go back to being a session musician? He loves the band. And what about Corina? And even Smugs? You think he gets paid if the tour gets cancelled?”
