Page 29 of We Used To Be Magic

‘I know, it’s a big change,’ Imogene says gently. ‘You can take the day to think about it.’

Thinking about it won’t change the outcome, though. I know she said it’s my choice, but there’s no way that I can say no. I would risk losing a life-changing opportunityandbeing labelled ‘difficult’ in one fell swoop. My career would be over before it’s even begun.

‘Blonde sounds great,’ I manage. ‘I’m totally down for that.’

I can always dye it back, I reason. Besides, maybe it’ll be a whole new era for me – my own personal bleachella.

‘I was hoping you’d say that.’ Imogene smiles, already reaching for her phone. ‘I’ll make the appointment now.’

Marika and I leave not long afterwards. We’re silent in the elevator down to the lobby – theAVWoffices are on the tenth floor of this beautiful, white-brick monolith, which is maybe part of why meetings there always feel so intense.

‘See you later, then,’ she says, slipping on her sunglasses the second that we’re outside.

‘Oh. You’re not coming back to the apartment?’

‘I have plans,’ she replies, already striding away.

I head off in the opposite direction, mentally kicking myself. All in all, the meeting only took twenty minutes. Maybe Ezra would have waited for me, if I’d asked. I check my phone on the off-chance that he’s messaged – he hasn’t, but there’s one from my mum.Ah.Given the drama of these past few days, it‘s been easy to ignore the fact that she’s long overdue a phone call. I just – I find it kind of hard to talk to her at the moment. Aside from all the questions that I don’t know how to answer, it has a tendency to make me feel like total shit.

I wait until I’m on a quieter street to dial her number, lingering under the shade of a tree. It rings three times, then—

‘Hi, Dree!’ Mum exclaims, and tears spring to my eyes without warning. I can picture her so clearly – she’s probably leaning against the kitchen counter right now, overall-clad, a cup of tea in hand. The tea is awful here. I’d tell her as much if I didn’t think she’d use it as yet another justification as to why I should fly home immediately.

‘Hi, Mum,’ I manage. ‘How are you?’

‘We’re great! Let me put you on speakerphone and get your dad.’

I glance upwards, blinking hard. There’s a brief, muffled exchange, before –

‘Hi, Bean!’

‘Hi, Dad!’ I say brightly, hoping he won’t notice the quiver in my voice. ‘How’s the house going?’

‘Well, the bathrooms are a nightmare. The damp is out of control – I’ve had to tear down half of the walls, and thepipes—’

‘She doesn’t want to hear you talk about plumbing!’ Mum cuts in. ‘When are you coming home, Dree?’

‘That’s actually why I’m calling – it’ll be later than we thought. I booked a job. A big one, so – yeah. Exciting.’

‘Oh,’ she says. That’s it –oh. That’s all I get.

‘What kind of job?’ Dad interjects. ‘I mean – it’s to do with clothes, I assume?’

‘It’s an advertisement campaign. For Miranda Browning.’

‘Ah. And she … makes clothes?’

‘Uh-huh. It’s a big brand. You might see me in a magazine.’

‘Wow.’ He laughs. ‘That’s great, Bean. You’ll let us know when that happens, won’t you?’

‘Of course.’

A beat of silence follows. I’m all too aware that Mum is yet to elaborate on ‘oh’, so – ‘The shoot is going to be soon. I’m dyeing my hair for it.’

‘Your hair?’ Mum says abruptly. ‘Your hair is lovely the way it is.’

There we go.

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