“Not that green,” he protested. “But yes. Perhaps. Maybe?”
“OnPoint Productions wouldn’t know how to run a production, even if they had the best people in the business on board. We start from scratchon this one. I need a runner. Full dogsbody. I say jump, you hit the ceiling. Clear?”
“Grateful.” He nodded. I was impressed. Perhaps I should take that back, the part about having no spine. His spine suddenly seemed fine.
“Also, I expect full compliance with my no-bullshit policy. You see it? You pull me up on it.”
“No problems,” he replied sternly as she nodded and pinned her eyes on me.
“Oliver. I need you to look at my numbers. I know it’s not your area of…figures. But before I go and make an absolute tit out of myself to my investors? Check that I’m not completely off track here. I’m good with most things; I just need an extra pair of eyes.”
“And me?” Cal asked, looking all excited.
“Your mum would kill me if I even got you anywhere near a studio. No can do, kiddo.”
“Ed’s a scriptwriter.” He pouted.
“Not on my watch, he isn’t,” Gina said sternly. “Your mum gave very clear instructions. If I ever dragged you into any of my projects? She was going to haunt the shit out of my arse.”
“Yet you’ve offered Georgie here a job?” Cal threw his hand out, then stared at George, like he’d suddenly realised he was actually there.
This piece of theatre was certainly getting interesting.
“Hey, George.”
“What?”
Okay?
“Good to finally meet you,” Cal said, reaching out and offering his hand. Like this had just occurred to him.
“Finally?” George looked a little taken aback.
“Your ugly mug has been Ed’s screensaver for the past year. He’s not been very discreet about it. And he refused to introduce his brother to the love of his life. I was starting to worry he’d made you up.”
And plot twist.
I laughed.
Then I laughed hysterically. And so did everyone else. This wasn’t normal. But then?
That was how…things apparently rolled around here.
For fuck’s sake.
And then? The ceiling creaked.
Epilogue
Peter
Late September
The sunshine on my face felt far too hot. Like the rays were burning through my fragile skin despite the layers of sun factor I’d smothered it with getting ready to go out for my run.
My daily run. I ran every day now, feeling it helped me clear my head and gave me that morning peace I still craved. To be alone with my thoughts and just…exist. We were…good. Everything was good. I was back to work and had just signed up to speak at the British Dentistry Convention next month. They were advertising me as a special guest speaker, like it would be an epic performance of me droning on about the future of recyclable disposable braces. What was I thinking? But I had been invited to speak…so to speak, and speak I would. What was I like? I had to smile at myself, again agreeing to things that would no doubt land me in a situation out of my control. Strangely…I liked the idea. I couldn’t explain it, this new part ofme I was still discovering. Talking was good. Talking about myself? I spluttered with held-back laughter. Me?
I didn’t know why I hesitated this morning, why I was standing in the doorway looking out into the road and why something was holding me back.
