Page 120 of Worth Every Game

He lets out a huff so loud and dismissive that I pull the phone from my ear for a second. “I don’t care about the photos. They’re gorgeous. You’re gorgeous. It’s all good. Most of all, your voice and your songs are absolute winners. Chart-toppers, Elly.”

Did he just say what I think he did? Is this really going to be okay? Is it possible that my career didn’t turn to a pile of steaming crap overnight?

I’m chewing hard on my lip to stop from smiling, just in case this is a dream. “Thank you.”

A beat of silence has my pulse spiking. “I’ve been waiting for your call for weeks. What took so long?” he asks.

I blink back the tears that are rising. “It was all… it was too much. The photos, the stuff on the internet. It got me down.”

“Ah.” He pauses for so long I wonder if he has hung up, but then he says, “I get that. But in this business you need a thick skin. This may not be the worst that will hit you once we’ve got you properly positioned in the market. I need to know you can handle it, because if you can’t, it’ll break you. You have to be ready.”

“I am.”

“You’re sure? Because I’m willing to bet on you. I’ve got your back, but I need to know you’re gonna stay standing, no matter what comes your way.”

“I will. I promise. I want this.” This time, I really mean it.

“Okay. We’ll get you signed on. Amy’s keen to work with you. Does that sound good?”

My heart flutters, my palms grow sweaty. “Yes. Yes. More than good. I’d love that.”

“Okay, then. I’ll be in touch.”

I hang up and lie back on my bed, revelling in the moment.It’s going to be okay. Everything is going to be fine.

My heart sputters. How can anything be fine when I haven’t sorted things out with Jack?

42

JACK

“This is a pretty mess, isn’t it?” Mum says. She’s sitting at my kitchen table, a selection of tabloid papers spread before her. She flicks to page six of one of them, where pictures of me yanking the bloke off the stage are spread, Elly in the background, clutching her guitar like her life depends on it.

Heir to Lansen Luxury Hotels leaps to defense of shamed viral sensation, Elly Carter.

Beneath it is a smaller image of Elly pouring a pint over his bloody face.Good for you, El.

“I told you you’d live to regret that girl,” Mum adds. “The scandal. The shame. Good Lord. Look at all that blood.” She jabs the image.

I clench my jaw, cursing the fact I let her into the house in the first place. I thought she was Kate, or I wouldn’t have opened the door. She marched straight into the house like my poor behaviour was the perfect excuse to turn up and reprimand me, proving she’s a ‘good mother’. If she doesn’t shut up, I’m going to kick her onto the street.“It’s not a big deal. We’ve agreed tosettle out of court. I’ll pay him damages. Not that he fucking deserves them.”

Mum pokes the paper. “It says he’ll need reconstructive surgery to fix his face.”

My phone buzzes, Nico’s name flashing on the screen. I decline the call. I’ve been waiting to hear from him about news on Lydia, but I’m not talking about it when Mum’s here. I glance back at her and shrug. “Again, not a big deal. They’ll break his nose to re-align it. I’ve had it done twice.”

Mum grimaces. She’s probably remembering the time I broke my nose playing rugby. She always hated the sport; didn’t want me ruining my ‘gorgeous face’. “You’re being very cavalier about all this. That young man could have pressed charges. Assault. Battery. They could have arrested you. Had you up in court.” She rolls her eyes theatrically. “This could have been so much worse. I knew that girl would send you loopy.”

“One more derogatory word about Elly, and I will force you out of this house and never allow you back in. There is nothing you can say or do to change my mind.”

Mum’s face sours like a pickle. “Darling. I wasn’t saying anything bad about her. It’syouthat’s gone loopy.”

I rest my elbow on the table and point at her. “Cut the bullshit. I’ve had enough. I know what you meant, andyouknow what you meant. And I’m telling you right now, if you so much as hint at Elly being a bad influence or not good enough, or say anything disrespectful about her, I will quite happily live out the rest of my life as though both my parents are dead.”

The colour drains from her face. “But you aren’t even together anymore, are you?”

A wrenching sensation blasts through me at the reminder, but I don’t let it show. I won’t have the facts distorted by a display of emotion. “Irrelevant. I love her, and I’ll love her for the rest of my life, even if she never forgives me. The memory of myrelationship with Elly is more precious to me than actual time spent with anyone else, including you. I’d sacrifice the whole fucking world to have her back.”

Mum draws up in her seat, and I brace for the theatrics. The tears. But they don’t come. Instead, she says, “All right, darling. I hear you. You’re in love.”

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