Page 25 of Washed Up
He’s stuck in the wallowing phase. I know what that’s like. No amount of me, or anyone else dressing things up in a positive light will convince him. He needs to grow into that belief for himself. But things are shifting. He’s almost there. It’s in his voice. It’s in the way he strides out of the studio.
Reid bounds over to me and lifts me off my feet. “You’re fucking magic, Ariel.” He smacks a kiss on my lips. “Tell her, Max. Tell her how awesome she is.”
“He left,” I say, looking to the exit.
“He played,” the two men counter.
CHAPTER TEN
Iris
Wynter’s still missing when we sit down to eat an evening meal. His absence leaves me agitated. It feels as if it’s my fault, that I was the one pushing him, but Reid and Max don’t seem concerned.
“You did us a favour, Iris. Seriously,” Max reassures, as he fills my plate with honey-and miso-drizzled chicken and stacks of yummy looking veg. “Wynter will be fine. This is what he does when he needs to process. He takes time out. Don’t worry, he’ll come back.”
Reid spears an asparagus stalk and attempts to put it in his mouth sideways. “He’s probably gone for a drive.”
Wait! “There are roads on this island?” Also, they have a car here.
“He’ll have crossed to the mainland.”
I pause, fork halfway to my mouth, then lower it to the plate again.
“You okay, Iris?” Max stops dishing up and strokes a hand through my hair.
I nod. “I guess I forgot how close home really is. Is it safe for Wynter to be randomly driving places alone?”
They both chuckle at that. “What, do you think he’s going to get mobbed?”
Yes, I do.
“We still have lives, Iris. We still exist outside of the celebrity bubble. If we’re together, we’ve more chance of being recognised, but apart, dressed as our regular selves rather than made up for the cameras, people rarely make the connection. They don’t expect us to do our own shopping or fill our cars atthe local petrol station. Wynter will be fine. He’s probably pulled into a layby on some windy country road next to a Neolithic burial site soaking up the vibes.”
It’s actual easy to imagine him doing exactly that. A lone figure in the dark. The sort of person people will drive past because they think he’s weird.
As Max cooked, and Wynter’s not here, I help Reid with the tidying up. “I’ve never met three men who were so fastidious about the dishes,” I say as we unload the previous load of crockery from the dishwasher ready to fill it again. They tidy religiously after every meal. There are never piles of plates by the sink, or crumbs on the worktops. It seems especially odd that chaos goblin, Reid, seems to be responsible for most of this cleanliness.
“Had it drummed into me by my nan. She always had rotas, and her sayings. It’s still the first thing she says to me when she sees me, ‘Are there dishes in your sink, young man?’ Well, after, ‘Are you eating properly? Who’s washing your underwear? And if you must paint your nails, you ought to do a better job of it’.”
“She sounds interesting.”
He gives an enthusiastic nod. “One of the best people I’ve ever met.”
“Tell me one of her sayings?”
He doesn’t have to think about it. “‘Messy house blues, we’ll clean and soothe.’ If shit was going down when I was a kid, especially when I was a teenager, she’d say that and then hand me a scouring brush then we’d do the kitchen floor together while we talked over shit. It weirdly always worked, with the added boon of a clean floor, or bath, or windows. Pretty sure I scoured her whole house at least a dozen times, and painted most of it twice, too.”
“Tried it as an approach with Wynter?”
“Yup. I wound up wearing the bucket.”
It takes me a second to realise he means Wynter upended soapy water over him.
“What else did your nan teach you?”
“You mean beside how to play guitar?” He nods. “She was a music teacher.” His lips elongate as he thinks. “Let’s see. Sharing is caring.”
Clearly, I’m naïve, because I initially think he means this in the usual sense. It becomes obvious he doesn’t when he takes the pan from my hand and sets it aside, and presses his hand to my palm instead, then laces our fingers. “So… I lost out to Max, eh?”
