-2-
PRESENT DAY
The taxi driver was already shunting his next customer through the door as Alle Hutton leaned in the window to pay her fare.London was grey, grimy, and miserable, as only a city in the rain could be.A medley of traffic fumes and damp lingered at ground level, the sort that seemed to stick in the nostrils and cling to her clothing as she hurried into the steel-and-glass structure that housed Black Halo’s record label.
Alle shucked off her heavy coat, then immediately regretted it, the release from its weight making the pneumatic drill-like judders through her limbs more apparent.Dammit, her heart was in her mouth.This could be bad.It could be so fucking bad.And to think, a mere six days ago they’d been basking in the spring sunshine on the French Riviera, and she’d dared to believe that a glorious future together with Spook was on the horizon.
That euphoric bubble had well and truly popped, courtesy of her shit-head brother.It was a good thing that Marshall was still out of town, or she’d have torn him a new arsehole by now.
Taking a breath to ease her racing nerves, Alle settled herself into a seat.Truth was, Cannes seemed a sickeningly long time ago, and she’d spent too much of that time in a state of anxiety.
Her gums ached every time she pressed her teeth together—a by-product of gritting her teeth, and her stomach alternated between bemoaning the lack of breakfast and threatening to disgorge anything she ate.
This was worse than exams.Worse than a job interview.Worse than the interminable wait for the call from the hospice to say her dad was breathing his last.
Fuck it, she needed to know.
What if he didn’t show?
What if he came, but only to make a clean break of it?
Did she really want to hear that face to face?It’d almost killed her when he’d sent her away before.This time, it would be so much worse because she had a much clearer picture of how good it could be.
She wished she had a friend here.Someone’s hand she could hold.
Would he hear her out?Allow her to apologise?
I don’t condone Marshall’s actions.
Please don’t end it.
I think he’s a fuckwit.
He hurt me too.
Don’t end it.Spook, please.We’re good… When it’s the two of us together, it’s so good.We shouldn’t let other people tear us apart.
Her heart rate quickened as she saw two dark shadows fill the revolving glass door.It spat them out like an invading force.They were decked out in their stage gear—smudgy eyeliner, leathers, and a lot of heavy silver jewellery.It lent an impression of otherworldliness to the moments it took them to notice her.Xane’s cats-eye contact lenses added to that.
The Black Halo frontman led the way, dragging Spook along in his wake like a blond shadow.
“Xane.”She rose uneasily to her feet.Her heart was in her mouth again, leaving her parched into croakiness.“Spook.”
Her limbs trembled.What did she do?If they began on a clinical note, wouldn’t that make everything more strained?Braving rejection, she lifted up on tiptoes and leaned into Spook meaning to plant a kiss upon his cheek, but before her lips had brushed his skin, he’d swaddled her in a tight embrace.“Alle,” he sighed into her skin.“Please don’t hate me.”
Hate him?
Not ever.She couldn’t.
“Spook, no.My brother is a piece of shit.After what he printed, he deserved your fist in his face.”
His blue eyes were cagey.“I hadn’t seen it at the time…” He shook his head.“I’m not going to lie about that.”
“Then I’m sure that whatever he said or did to you justified your reaction.”
He shrugged.“Maybe.”
Xane made an aggrieved noise.“There’s no maybe about it.He deserved it, and more.That’s why the charges were dropped.The police agreed.It was an appropriate response.”
