Page 105 of Going Solo

“I have a fax machine down here as well. I’ll throw that next.”

Nick looked exasperated. “Neesh was saying we’ll open the phone lines for the last hour and give the show over to the fans to share their memories and stories about whatPop Reviewmeans to them. What do you reckon?”

“Sounds good,” I said.

“Unless…” Nick said. I waited for him to finish, but the words didn’t come.

“Unless?”

Nick hesitated. “Unless, maybe, you wanted to do something about the fact Cole’s stadium sho?—”

“No, not that. It’s in my contract. No Cole.”

“But it’s all anyone is talking about,” Tarneesha said. “You’ve been ignoring to watch rehearsal clips. You’re as obsessed as everyone else.”

“No,” Nick said. “Toby is obsessed with his ex. And he’s been watching clips of his shows and endlessly cyberstalking him like a desperate mooning saddo for the past eight months. Because…” Nick slapped me across the back of the head. “He…” He slapped me again. “Should never…”Slap. “Have broken up with him.”Slap.

Denzil popped his head through the door, and we all sat upright like naughty schoolkids caught misbehaving.

“Guys, let me introduce you to the new owners,” Denzil said. “This is Harland, from YMC.”

A guy who looked like the baddie in every single Muppets movie stepped into the room, followed by three other men who looked like they were assembled in the same factory. They all had names straight fromTheDukes of Hazzard. Denzil introduced us, and we nodded politely. We’d been sacked by email three weeks earlier. From Monday morning, PureFM would be a Christian rock music station. The signage for Hallelujah Radio had already gone up outside. It’s the sort of thing that happens in the media. It’s a brutal industry. We had accepted our fates. But they hadn’t even kept Tarneesha on staff, and her mother was a Pentecostal minister, so our goodwill for these arseholes was non-existent.

“Nice to meet y’all,” Harland the cartoon villain said. All he was missing was a big hat and a horse. His existence was undoing the hardwiring in my brain. Hollywood had mistakenly led me to believe Texans were all hot as hell.

“Orright?” I said, trying to give these gentlemen the right amount of sneer.

The men were all Southern politeness but dead behind the eyes. Being stuck in a room making small chat with a Black woman, a homosexual, and a homosexual in a wheelchair had clearly tripped the diversity switch in their brains, and they’d powered down for safety reasons.

“I hear one of you is off to the BBC,” Harland said.

Nick raised his hand. “Guilty as charged.”

“I’ve never met a commie in a wheelchair before,” he said.

My jaw was on the floor. Nick opened his mouth to speak.

Harland burst into laughter. “I’m just messin’ with ya. Everyone in merry old England seems so quick to believe we’re all rednecks, it’s hard not to have fun with it. No, I’m glad to hear you’ve landed on your feet.”

I looked at Nick, fizzing with anticipation for his reply. But he smiled and said nothing.

“Shall I take you through to see the studio?” Denzil said, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

“Why, I’d like that, Denzeel.” He turned to the three of us. “Nice to meet y’all. God bless you—and good luck with whatever comes next in life’s journey.”

With that, they left. “Sorry,” Denzil mouthed as he closed the door behind him. It was Nick who broke the silence.

“Do you think it’s the circumcision that makes them such insensitive pricks?”

Tarneesha laughed. “Honestly, thought you was gonna shiv him for a sec.”

“Not like you to hold your tongue, babes,” I said.

Nick smiled. “Always be gracious in victory.”

“Victory?” Tarneesha said. “He’s sacked us.”

“Not sacked, Neesh,” Nick said. “Made redundant. It’s an important difference. I’ve got twenty-five grand of that arsehole’s money landing in my bank account on Monday. All because hehasmade me redundant. What he doesn’t know, and I have no intention of telling him, is that I’d lined up the gig at the BBC two months ago, and I’ve only been hanging around for my payout.”

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