What if I already screwed it up and I’ll never see him again?
Ugh. I groan at the navy sky, now littered with stars as the sun fully tucks itself away. Fine. I’ll make a move. Maybe. If I see him again, I’ll consider making the next move.
Because I want to. Because I enjoy his company. And because maybe he’s exactly the sort of thrill I need to escape this safety blanket I’ve created for myself, tossing all the fun and excitement from my life.
So, at breakfast the next morning, I’m nervous that I’m about to be horribly disappointed. I eat a bowl of fruit and yoghurt alone, sipping on my coffee waiting for him to arrive. I’m maybe on my fourth mug – I’ve lost count – before he arrives, striding into the room with purpose, searching for me. His shoulders relax the second he spots me, his tense facial features easing.
“Good morning,” he says, that familiar grin returning to his lips. “Are you ready for the best tour of your life?”
I’m embarrassed by how relieved I am that he’s still here.
But first, I have to address the elephant in the room. “Was everything ok, yesterday?”
A shadow crosses his face, but it’s gone so fast, I can’t be sure.
“Oh yeah. I’m the last amenable band member according to my team. The others have gone awol. They thought I’d disappeared too. Which Idid, but we won’t tell them that. They just wanted to check in; ensure I’m prepared for what’s next in the schedule.”
“Oh, really? Like what?”
He makes a cynical tutting sound I haven’t heard from him before. “A book with my name on that I haven’t read. A whole bunch of interviews with podcasters to talk about life in the band.Well…” he laughs, blinking, “Tolieaboutlife in the band. And then other things too… It’s all waiting for me as soon as I’m back.”
I can’t fight the frown. “I’m sorry.”
He shakes himself out of it. “Don’t worry. It’s just my reality.” He points at the splash of coffee I have left in my mug. “You mind?”
“Oh no. Go ahead. I’ve had enough to keep me wired all day.”
He gulps the rest down and clears his throat. “I’ll have both my phones with me going forward, but my main one is turned off. I’ve saved my security team’s number in my contacts on this one,” he waves his burner phone at me. “I’ve been instructed to tell someone I’m with that if there’s an emergency, you need to dial this number. They’ll ask you for the codeword.”
“That sounds serious.”
“I told them it’s Roko.” I know he’s trying to diffuse any tension.
I smile. “Ok.”
“This counts for you too. Worst case scenario they’re linked up with local police and can make sure you’re safe.”
“Gus, I feel like you received a bollocking.”
He half-smiles, half-cringes. “You could say that.” Then he sighs. “Shall we go?”
*
Gus wears lighter clothing in Monaco than he did when we were walking the streets of Croatia, Montenegro and Italy. I wonder if it’s because his team know he’s here, so he’s less concerned about being undercover. But nowIhave this sense of being watched, being followed. I want to askhim about it and yet I don’t because he’s relaxed again, his smiles flowing freely, his laughing light.
He explains he’s taking me to one of the key tourist attractions and I follow him blindly when he stops and says, “What do you think?”
I blink. “What do I think about what?”
He nods his head towards a road with high metal barriers. “Well?”
“It’s a road.”
His lips part, his face disbelieving. “Tell me you know what Formula 1 is.” Not a question, a demand.
“The car racing thingy?”
Gus gasps. “Don’t mess with me.”
