Page 81 of The Reboot
‘Of course.’ He looked at her aghast. He couldn’t believe she had to ask. ‘I mean, that’s the whole point of all this, remember?’
‘I know, I know,’ she said quickly, appeasingly. ‘I just thought you might have changed your mind.’
She thought heshouldchange his mind. That was what she really wanted to say. ‘Well, I haven’t. Why would I?’ It pissed him off. She was supposed to be on his side, one hundred per cent.
‘I don’t know.’ She looked down at her plate, twirling spaghetti onto her fork with unwarranted concentration. ‘I just thought, you know, since you’ve been working with Phoenix, doing your own thing—’
‘So now I have credibility because of being associated with a proper band, and I should do something better.’
‘That’s not what I mean.’
‘I think it’s exactly what you mean.’
‘You just seem so happy the last few weeks – happier than you ever were when you were in Oh Boy!’
‘Seriously? You don’t think I washappybeing in the biggest pop group in the world?’
She put her fork down and turned to face him squarely. ‘No, I don’t.’
‘Yeah, you’re right. It was a miserable existence – travelling all around the world, winning awards, playing giant stadiums. It was shit being at the top of my game, and the money really sucked. I’m much better off working in a crappy cafe and doing music in my spare time like some hobbyist.’
‘Yeah, I think you are. You never seemed that happy back then, when you used to call me.’
‘That’s because I only called you when I was down – when I was feeling lonely or a bit homesick and there was no one else around.’
‘Right. I see,’ she said tightly.
He sighed. ‘I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant, obviously I wasn’t messaging you when I was at a party or on stage or being taken out to some fancy restaurant. You weren’t there, so you only saw one side of it.’
‘I get that,’ she said softly. ‘I do. But that was still a whole side of it.’
Maybe she was right. There had been a lot of those nights. He remembered how he’d felt those times he’d called her – anxious, lonely, paranoid, homesick. He’d been lost, in need of grounding, craving the reassurance of her voice on the phone. But it was only because the highs had been so high, wasn’t it? For every action there was an equal and opposite reaction. The crash was the price you paid for the elation of being on stage, the high of knowing you’d played a blinder, the adrenaline surging through your body when you stood at the centre of all that light and sound and joyful energy, thousands of fans all screaming for you – there had to be a comedown from that. The crash was worth it … wasn’t it?
‘And the music you’re doing now,’ Ella was saying, ‘it’s so different—’
‘Different to the Oh Boy! crap, you mean?’
‘No!’ She was vehement. But that was exactly what she’d meant and they both knew it.
‘I don’t mean to criticise—’
‘Don’t, then.’
‘I thought you’d want to keep doing your new stuff, that’s all. It’s so good. And you seem to be really enjoying it.’
‘I am. But I want to be back in Oh Boy! more.’
‘If you’re sure that’s what you really want.’ She shrugged.
‘I am.’
‘Okay. So, what do you need to do to make that happen?’
No one in his life seemed to be behind the idea. He knew they were just looking out for him, but it still annoyed him.
‘I don’t like how they treated you,’ his mother said worriedly. ‘They weren’t good friends to you when you were struggling.’
His nan was more forthright, as always. ‘Why would you want to get back with that shower of shites who abandoned you when you were in trouble?’
