Ollie laughed softly. “I figured as much. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone at him, but there’s something about you, Shay. I wanted to kill him. Just for a second, but I really did.”
“I get it,” Shay said. “I wanted to deck him myself for being such a prick to you. This isn’t what you signed up for.”
“It isn’t, but I’m not complaining. The taxi ride was shitty, but fetching the van gives me something to do. It’s when I’m bored that my life gets really fucked up.”
Shay’s heart hurt. Ollie was such a contradiction—steely and strong, but fragile in ways most people would never know. They were barely scratching the surface, and perhaps this was as far as he’d ever let Shay in, but God, Shay felt every ounce of pain in Ollie’s rough voice. “When will you be back?”
“Depends on traffic, but probably around eight?”
“We’ll be on stage by then.”
“I know. Maybe I’ll catch the show.”
“I hope so.”
“Me too. Are you okay?”
“Hmm?” Startled, Shay stood and walked to the wall where a window might’ve been had he not been buried in the depths of the venue. “Me? Why are you asking that?”
“Because you sound fed up… and because I want to know.”
It was Shay’s turn to sigh. “That’s sweet, but yeah, I’m fine. I’m just pissed off that everything’s turned to shit. And I’m hungry. The food here is wank.”
Ollie laughed again, properly this time, and it was as if he’d injected it right into Shay’s veins. Warmth and light spread through Shay, even though he was still alone in the chilly, dark room. “I know Newcastle pretty well, as it goes. I’ve got family up there, and my cousin happens to have a shop just up the road from where you are.”
“I’m listening.”
“It’s one of those Polish shops that sells everything but the kitchen sink, and right at the back, he has a hot plate that’ll sort you right out… I mean, if you’re up for a walk?”
After hours of windowless solitude, Shay couldn’t think of anything better. He picked up the mandolin and strummed a few mindless cords.
“‘Country Girl’?” Ollie said.
“Huh?”
“You’re playing it.”
“Am I?” Shay repeated the chords and played some more. Then it clicked, and it dawned on him that he’d spent his entire afternoon murdering Primal Scream.Jesus, where’s my head at?“I didn’t even realise.”
“You’re funny.”
“Not on purpose.”
Ollie laughed some more, then gave Shay directions to his cousin’s shop and precise instructions on what to buy. “Trust me,” he said. “If you’re hungry and cranky, the goulash and cabbage will sort you right out.”
Shay believed him. “Thanks. I’m going to go now. Um… are you going to be around after the show?”
There was a pause, and then the flick of a cigarette lighter. Ollie blew out smoke, and it seemed like a lifetime passed before he spoke again. “I’ll find you, Shay. I promise.”
Chapter Thirteen
The problemwith promises was that even the ones you meant most were impossible to keep when the world worked against you. Ollie glared at the car park barrier holding the van hostage with increasing dismay. According to the signage, it lifted at midnight.
“Seriously?” he muttered. “What kind of fucking goth car park opens at midnight?”
The one Jumbo’s cousin had dumped the van in, apparently. Ollie wondered if Shay had ever known quite how far from the venue the band’s highly valuable stage gear had been kept. Considered telling him, then changed his mind. Shay had sounded stressed enough on the phone, which made the pull to get back to him ache even harder.
Ollie scrubbed a hand over his face. Midnight. Damn. That meant he wouldn’t hit Newcastle till three in the morning. Would Shay even be awake? If he was, chances were he’d be drunk, though Ollie was willing to bet Corina had put the kibosh on that shit for a while.
