Page 61 of Going Solo

“Careful, this is a new hat!”

“I know, I dug it out of the merch bag and gave it to you less than five minutes ago.”

Cole pulled out his phone to take a selfie.

“Woah, what are you doing?”

“Posting an Insta story in my snazzy new hat.”

“Oh no you don’t!” I tried to snatch Cole’s phone, the van swerved, and the front wheel went over the rumble strip. I grabbed the wheel and nearly over-corrected, swerving back into the inside lane. Shrieking tyres and honks pierced the air.

“Jesus, Toby! OK, no selfie. Just… don’t get us killed, will you?”

In the wing mirror, I could see the three black SUVs of Cole’s security team behind us. Mitch was flashing his headlights at me. I hit the hazard lights, letting him know everything was OK. The last thing I needed was to piss off a guy whose pronouns were speed, surprise, and violence.

Cole laughed at a message on his phone.

“Look at this,” he said, holding the screen up for me to see. It was a selfie of Nick and Fiona, sipping champagne in Cole’s private jet. It seemed Nick had adapted to the high life quickly. And here I was, getting high on diesel fumes and babysitting my ex for the next four hours. A lorry thrummed up beside us, overtaking.

“Selfie for Fiona,” Cole said, shifting around so we were both in the frame.

“No selfies!” I was concentrating on not getting blown off the road as the lorry passed us.

“Smile!”Click. “Wait, you can’t see my snazzy newPop Reviewhat.”

“Stop sayingsnazzy.”

“Let’s go again.”

“Cole!”

“Smile!”Click.

“Aw, you look grumpy in this one.” Cole flashed me the pic, but I was too focused on the road. “Hat looks great, though,” he said. “Very snazzy.”Swoosh!The image had been sent.

“Don’t post that!”

“I didn’t. It’s for Fi only, I promise. And for me. A memento of our road trip… and this magical time we’re spending together.”

He was boiling my piss now. “Reborn” came on the radio, and I reached over and switched it off.

“Hey, I love that song.”

“What is this all about, Cole? Why are we here?”

“Because the M74 is the best route to Manchester.”

“You know what I mean. Why did you pay a million quid forPop Reviewto come on this tour? Why take me to the hospital this morning? Why are you in my shitty van instead of twenty thousand feet above my head in your private jet, getting wanked off by Hire-a-Twinks, or whatever it is you do up there? Is this genuinely all because you found out Felicity Quant lied to you? Because, if so, this feels like an apology that could have been an email.”

Cole pointed at a sign up ahead.

“Ooh, there’s a motorway services. Can we stop and get some snacks?”

“Stop avoiding the question!”

Cole went quiet. When I looked over at him, he’d finally pulled the hat down but was staring doggedly out the side window, avoiding eye contact. I swear I could feel his heartbeat through the van’s bench seat. We sailed past the exit for the services. Cole’s shoulders slumped.

“Do you know the day we met was the best day of my life?” he said.

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