Page 62 of Star Struck

‘No love? Never? So, you’re some kind of masochist who puts himself in the way of emotion but refuses to give an inch for it? That’s just sad, Jack. It’s not brave, it’s not worthy; it’s running away.’

He hiccupped a breath. Might have been a laugh, might have been a sob. ‘Yes, Skye. I know,’ he said, very quietly, turning his head to look at me. ‘I know.’

‘So why are you so angry?’

He gritted his teeth and turned back to the road. ‘It’s not you I’m angry at.’ His hands were so tight on the wheel that the plastic was groaning. ‘It’s me.’

I shut up after that.

We arrived back at the motel to find that an impromptu shanty-town had sprung up around the burned-out remains. Locals from the town had brought tents and blankets and most convention-goers had spent their last night camping out rather than leaving. It was as though the whole experience had bonded Fallen Skies’ fans into one solid unit that they were reluctant to break.

‘Jeez, am I glad to see you!’ Gary, my interrogator and all-round security organiser, came running up almost before we’d got out of the car. ‘We got problems.’

‘You’d better believe it,’ Jack muttered. ‘What’s going on?’

Gary turned to me. He looked haggard, completely shot. ‘Getting that guy out before the place went up? That was some work, lady, you oughtta get a medal or something.’

‘How about my quiz prize back?’

He shrugged. ‘Dunno if they’d go for that.’

‘I was joking.’ A flat look and he turned back to Jack. ‘We need you.’

‘What, got a writing emergency? Someone need a script, stat?’ A little of the bitter sadness my heart was full of had seeped into my voice. ‘A sudden call for mouth-to-mouth monologues?’

Gary ignored me. ‘Gethryn’s on the roof, threatening to jump. Wants to talk to you. You better get over there pronto.’

‘Shit!’ Jack closed his eyes for a second. ‘Okay. Has he been drinking?’

A quick look in my direction. ‘What do you think?’

‘Anything else?’

‘Not so far as we know. But it’s not looking good, Jay.’

‘Fuck. Do we have press?’

‘Some lads from SFX mag, a few that bussed in from the town to cover the explosion and everyone’s got camera-phones. It could be all over the networks in an hour.’

Jack leaned forward, hands on thighs, and let his head drop, then he came back up, impatiently hooking his hair back. ‘Right. Gary, get the boys out there to move everyone away. Tell them it’s a matter of security, tell them . . . tell them this is promo work for Geth’s new movie. Tell them he’s . . . tell them we’re shooting a commercial. Shit, tell them anything, just get everyone out of there.’

‘Sure, boss.’ Gary pulled the walkie-talkie from his belt.

‘Oh, and if someone could find me a packet of cigarettes, I will be forever grateful.’ Jack set off across the yard, then stopped. Turned and looked back over his shoulder to where I was hovering, hooking the velvet skirt up over my arm and wincing as my bruised and bloodied feet picked their way over debris. ‘I’m going to need you, too.’

‘Me? Why?’ The partially ruined motel building stood like a broken tooth. I could see a shadowy shape moving against the sky as Gethryn paced across the rooftop. ‘I should go and . . .’

‘Skye.’ Jack’s voice was disturbingly calm but with an undertone that made it impossible to walk away from. ‘If I go up there alone, Geth will jump. No question. Now, he likes you, you just might be able to give him a reason not to go off that roof, all right?’

‘No pressure, then.’

A quick smile that barely touched his eyes. ‘Yeah.’ He turned and started walking towards the damaged building.

‘Do you really think he’s going to jump?’

Jack didn’t break stride. ‘Yep.’

‘But why? And why does he want to talk to you?’

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