Page 11 of The Show

I shot a text off to my chef, who I knew would be on his way back soon. While I loved food, I was a terrible,terriblecook, and would live off delivery if it wasn’t for Billy. He’d been with me for seven years, since I’d moved into my current apartment, and it was clear the enormous kitchen would be wasted on me. He was probably single-handedly responsible for ensuring my nutrition levels were at an acceptable standard, especially during the last three months when all I’d wanted to do was eat gummy bears and popcorn.

He’d probably jump for joy that I was asking for a proper meal again.

The six prayer emojis he replied with told me as much.

“Done. Lunch will be in an hour.”

Rafe swigged on his beer. “What was that Laurie said about Lowe in your employment?”

I rolled my eyes. “Lowe’s set up her own company, and Lauren seems to think I should employ her to do my PR and fix my image, or whatever.”

“What’s wrong with your image?”

I shrugged. “Nothing. Though apparently people think I’ve gone to rehab.”

Murray snorted. “You just went up a hundred cool points then.”

I grinned, knocking my beer against his. “Yeah, exactly.”

“But seriously, what did Laurie think she was going to do?”

“No idea. The girls turned up before I had a chance to find out; not that I ever will.”

“Not going to take her up on the offer then?” Rafe smirked at me.

I looked at the two of them. “I think it’s safe to say we all know the answer to that question.”

Murray laughed as he got up to fetch some chips and homemade salsa from the pantry. “What about the club? Hate to say it, but Lauren might have a point. You’re going to need a plan soon.”

My face fell in my hands again. “Yeah, I know she was right. The regular season will be over next month, The Lions will still be bottom of the standings, and I’ll have hordes of angry fans to contend with - as well as a terrible team.”

Rafe’s mouth opened to reply, but then we both noticed Murray with a frown on his face, and who wasn’t paying any attention to either of us. Instead, he was turning around in his seat, then back again.

“What?”

“Don’t you hear that?”

The three of us stilled and held our breath. A faint buzzing was coming from somewhere, but it stopped before any of us could figure out the direction. Then it started up again, long enough that Murray found it on one of the chairs at the kitchen table.

He picked the phone up, looking at the pair of us in confusion, “Hello… No, it’s Murray… No, we’re still at Penn’s… Yes, it’ll be here… ‘K. Bye.”

Rafe and I looked at him for an explanation while he rejoined us at the island, bringing the phone with him.

“It’s Lowe’s.”

My eyes widened and my chest seized, like it always did when Lowe was involved. “What does that mean? She’s coming to get it? She’s coming back?”

He nodded, scooping a pile of salsa onto a chip, then throwing the whole thing in his mouth. “Yeah, but leave it with the doorman, then you don’t have to see her.”

The seizing stopped. “Yeah, good idea.”

I really needed to get a grip, but I had more pressing matters to deal with first, namely my rumbling stomach. Thankfully, that was the moment Billy returned.

“Billy!” cried Murray and Rafe as he walked into the kitchen.

“A’right lads,” he greeted us in his thick Irish accent. “Gimme thirty minutes and I’ll bring you out some burgers that’ll have you rollin’ home. Go sit on the terrace.”

My stomach rumbled again.

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