Page 78 of All Right No
His expression morphed from one of seriousness to incredulity. “Ginny, he’s been serious about you from day one. Don’t pretend you’re not aware of that, as I know for a fact you’re every bit as serious about him. What’s up, are you getting the wobblies about how comfortable it’s all become because there’s been no big drama for at least a month.”
She laughed along with him. “Is it that long?”
“Fuck knows.” He followed her lead back onto his feet. “I don’t dare count unless it initiates some kind of implosion timer.”
“Isn’t creativity supposed to thrive on chaos?”
“Chaos thrives on chaos. Are you going to come inside before you end up with a frostbitten nose?”
Ginny gave her nose a rub. “I can’t tell if it’s cold, it’s been numb for an hour.”
“Then it’s definitely past time you came in.” He gave her a friendly push towards the patio doors. “If you want to think in peace, I’ll leave you with the run of the lounge. I was planning on hitting the sack now anyway.”
“Stay,” she pleaded. “Wallowing’s not going to make me feel better, but some company might.” Hopefully Ash, if he ever resurfaced, was over imagining there was something between her and Spook that was more than friendship.
“Beers, or do you need something hot in your belly?”
“Beer,” she responded wrapping herself in a sofa throw. It probably made her look like a meringue, but what the heck. Spook could provide the pretties.
They talked for a little while, mulling over current affairs and how they might impact the tour schedule, and whether there was a good day to release a track, and how charts were compiled. The hour was chasing midnight when Ash stumbled into the room with the duvet wrapped around him and his hair sticking up at angles on one side and flat on the other, where multiple crease lines were also visible on his skin.
“Thirsty,” he muttered, and lurched towards the stash of beers and soft drink cans someone had stacked into a pyramid. He reached out for the top one, but swayed back on his heels as if he were drunk, before leaning forward to compensate.
“Ash?”
Ginny had barely said his name before his legs buckled beneath him and he crashed headlong into the tower and the lip of the side-table beyond. Cans catapulted into the air, a dozen or so more crumpled beneath Ash’s weight, a few spouting leaks, as he landed with an almighty thud.
He was out cold.
