“And Emmy.”
Emmy, yes, of course. The manager of Kay II in Bristol. Sure, that's an hour away but an hour is better than being stuck here with Benji Smith. All. Fucking. Weekend.
“You know if you'd just accepted the keys I offered you years ago when I wanted to make you manager of the Bristol studio, this could have been avoided,” Keeley says gently, but it still feels like a punch in the gut considering my current situation.
“I didn't want the pressure,” I mumble, keeping my head turned away from Benji.
“The pressure? When have I ever put pressure on you?”
“It's not that,” I say, and how can I begin to explain how I feel about leaving home, moving away from my parents,having to take my career more seriously than I already do. Not that I think my job is a joke, I don't. But I like how easy it is. I like the absence of stress and pressure. Which is ironic because that's all I'm feeling right now.
“I'll call Emmy,” I tell Keeley with as much confidence as I can summon, because I'm acutely aware that Benji is likely listening to every word I say.
“Hmm, I'm pretty sure she's in Cardiff this weekend,” Keeley says and feel panic grip my throat again. “But I could be wrong. So yes, try Emmy.”
“Will do, thanks Kay,” I say and then hang up. I take a Deep breath before I turn fully around to look at Benji.
“Just need to make one more call.” I’m impressed at how level my voice is. But Benji doesn't look reassured. He's still standing where I left him, and his right hand is hidden under his sweater, moving slightly like he's playing with something. He looks fucking sexy, I can't deny it. I’d thought the same thing when he'd lifted his arms and revealed the flat, contoured plain of his slim stomach.
But it hadn't been appropriate to have those thoughts earlier and it certainly isn't now.
I move further away towards the front window, as if to tease myself with the freedom of outdoors, although there's not much to be seen. It's dark outside now and the streetlights only light so much. We're also at the bottom end of the high street while all the pubs, restaurants and the town's two nightclubs are mostly clustered at the top. Only the occasional car zooms by and I can't see any pedestrians anywhere.
Emmy takes a lot longer to answer the phone than Keeley did and that does nothing to ease my growing anxiety.
“Dion, hey, long time, no chat! How are you?”
Emmy is queer and mixed race like me—although she's white and Thai, while I'm mixed white and Black, my dad’s family coming from Trinidad and Tobago—and she is one of the most down to Earth people I know. She really listens to you when you talk and she often remembers details others would forget. I'd love to catch up, but now is not the time,
“Emmy, please tell me you're in Bristol right now,” I hiss, hoping my desperation is inaudible to Benji.
“Er, no, I'm in Cardiff with my girlfriend and boyfriend.”
Of course she is.
“Why?” she asks.
Oh no reason,I imagine saying,only I'm trapped in the studio with a former classmate who doesn't recognise me and nobody who has keys is anywhere nearby, so it's starting to look like I'll need to break a window to get out of here which I'll never do so I guess we're spending the night here.
“Oh, it's not a big deal. I've just got locked in the studio,” I say instead.
“At Kay's? Oh my God. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, it's fine,” I lie.
“I could come back. Only Stefan is performing tonight and Sienna is his backing singer. This is like the first time they've sung together in over ten years.”
“Your partners are way too cool,” I mumble while feeling disappointment flood my stomach.
“Aren't they? But really I could get there, only I've already had a few drinks so I'll?—”
“No, I'm, it's okay. I'll figure something out.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” I say, and I sound about as confident as Ifeel hopeless.
“Well, call me again if you don't. I'll have my phone on me.”
