Page 117 of Worth Every Game

Kate contemplates this as Nico signals to a waitress that he wants to order drinks. “I know,” Kate says. “There was a lot for her to process, but I think she might be ready to see you.”

“Think or know? I’m not coming if she doesn't want to see me.”

“She wants to, she just hasn’t said as much.”Jesus. I roll my eyes, and Kate gives me a hard stare. “I’ve known Elly for half my life. I wouldn’t suggest this if I didn’t think it was a good idea.” She sounds so sure of herself that I’m nearly convinced.

I glance at Nico, keen for his opinion. I can’t outright ask him about the situation with Lydia and the photos, not with all these observers, but over the past few weeks, we’ve lined everything up so that she’ll get what’s coming to her. We must be close, now.And I’d feel a hell of a lot better about seeing Elly if I know that other matter is in hand. “What do you think?”

I know Nico understands what I’m really asking because he gives a short, sharp nod. “I think she’s ready.”

Kate, oblivious to our coded discussion, continues pleading. “Come to the Marchmont, please.” She gestures around the table. “We’ll all go.”

I stare around at the Hawkston brothers. “You want to come to the Marchmont? It’s not glamorous. Not like this place,” I say, glancing around the luxury bar.

“I’d go anywhere to see her again,” Seb says, smiling broadly.

Me too. Me fucking too.

“You’re a deviant,” Matt hisses at Seb. “This is Jack’s Mrs we’re talking about.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes to the sound of Seb’s raucous laughter, pretending I’m exasperated by him, when really I’m struggling to hide the stab of gut-wrenching pain that the term ‘Jack’s Mrs’ caused. Elly’s not my Mrs. She’s not myanything.

“Maybe all of us down there isn’t a good idea,” I mutter as I glance at Kate. “Does she know you’re planning this?”

Kate looks contrite. “No. But if she wants to perform, she has to be able to do it regardless of who’s watching, or what’s going on in her life. Especially if she wants to get out of the Marchmont.”

“Does she want that?”

“I think so, but she’s scared. It’s a huge deal to get out there and perform again after everything that happened. But she’s been writing a ton of new songs. And Amy Moritz still wants to perform with her… she doesn’t give a shit about the online chatter. Thinks there’s no such thing as bad publicity. Thing is, if Elly doesn’t want to miss her moment, she has to get over herself. Quickly.”

I narrow my eyes. “Are you agreeing with me? Because Elly screamed me down for interfering with her music. For trying to change her and fix her and turn her into a product.”

“Hmm. When we were younger she used to talk about it all the time. Being famous. Being a star. Getting her music out there. And then over the years of rejections she kind of…shrank. Some of them were so brutal that she gave up.” Kate sighs. “I get that we shouldn’t interfere, but when someone is so obviously holding themselves back… I don’t see the harm in helping.”

“Look at the two of you, trying to sort Elly’s life out,” Nico says, amused. “It’s cute.”

I scowl at him and drain the rest of my scotch. To be honest, all I care about is that Elly will give me another chance.

“I’ll watch, but I’m not getting involved in her career ever again,” I declare. “That’s hers to manage however she wants.”

41

ELLY

The Marchmont is busier than normal. Marcia’s pissed because it means she has to work doubly hard, and we don’t have the staff. All these people are here to see me. I never thought that putting my music out there… showing up on social media would make this kind of difference, and to see the impact trickling all the way down here, to the basement of the Marchmont, is mind-blowing.

Although, I guess they could all be here because they’ve seen me naked. The thought makes me want to vomit, but I can’t hide forever.

I don’t look into the crowd. I know it makes me look scared and amateur, but for now, it’s the only way I can do it. Keeping my focus on the music and deliberately pretending there is no audience allows me to push through.

The crowd is appreciative tonight, but even so, my stomach is a tangle of nerves. On one of my songs, the crowd started singing the lyrics with me which has never, ever happened before. They already knew it. I almost stopped entirely and ran away at that point. But then a small voice pipes up that this is what I wanted.

All those years ago, when I first dared to dream of being a musician… I imagined it. Maybe not a little place like the Marchmont, but packed stadiums full of people singing my words back to me, waving their mobile phones like fireflies on a summer evening.

Could I have that? Is that even possible?

Maybe. Maybe not. But for now, I’m here, in the Marchmont, and for the first time, the crowd is here for me. Not for the cheap beer. Not for the shitty comedy act that was on stage before. But for me.

I’m slowly allowing the crowd’s energy to feed me. Gaining in confidence. I’menjoyingthis. And then I introduce my last song. The one I wrote after Nico’s party.

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