Page 9 of Fresh Start
Beth squatted on the floor and patted the space next to her, inviting me down with her.
“Wouldn’t I love to know that too,” I said. “This was meant to be my way in, Beth. It was going to lead me to bigger, greater things. Now, I’m not sure what’s going to happen. Probably back to square one.”
The sadness grew inside me again, even after I’d tried to suppress it in the last hour. Maybe yoga hadn’t helped today. Or maybe this was inevitable.
“I mean, mate, it still is Sherlock Holmes the Musical. I don’t know what you were expecting. A Sherlock Holmes musical?” She laughed and nudged my side, but it didn’t do anything to lighten the mood.
“Maybe I just have to accept that I’ll always be a failure and get over myself,” I said. “I mean, it’s not like I have to work again, ever, in my life.”
Despite our short run as One Shot, we’d broken enough charts to guarantee we had more than enough in the bank to never worry. But there was more to life than money. There was finding completion through your art. But how could I find completion when no one liked what I did?
“Oh, shut up, you wanker. You’re not a failure. A moan? Certainly. But not a failure. You hear me?” Beth raised her voice. “Don’t make me go all psychoanalytic on your arse. I’m not your therapist. Although you should get one.”
I rolled my eyes and got off the floor.
“But you always sit there and hear me complain about my life. Why should I pay someone to do the same?” I grinned.
“Arse,” she mumbled and also got up.
“Want to pop over for roast dinner? I’ve got chicken in the oven and grape juice in the fridge.”
“I thought you were vegan, and ew. I know you’re a recovering alcoholic, but grape juice shouldn’t exist. All right? It’s an insult to grapes,” Beth replied.
“Iamvegan. On most days. But I had a craving, and Milo doesn’t touch anything green.”
Beth crossed her arms in front of her chest and gave me a sneaky smile.
“Okay. I’ll come. But only if you promise to never, ever serve grape juice to me or anyone else in the world.”
We shook hands even though I was a big fan of the drink, and I returned home, leaving Beth to wrap things up at the center before she joined me.
I took a shower, turned the oven off, and set the table. Half an hour later, both Beth and Milo were sitting around it, and Beth had decided to go on another rant as to why grape juice should become an extinct species while Milo nodded in agreement and waved his hand in the air with his “Preach it, sista.”
When I cleared the table, Milo decided to drop a bomb.
“So, I’ve got some news,” he said, not letting his face betray the nature of said news.
I dropped the plates in the sink a little too aggressively and turned around, supporting myself on the kitchen counter.
“Should I be sitting for this? I should be sitting for this,” I said.
Milo pushed his chair and came up to me, grabbed both my shoulders, and leaned in. I thought he was going to kiss me, which made me flinch. It’s not like we never went there, but let’s just say we weren’t compatible.
Instead of a kiss, he whispered close to my ear. “Guess who wants to see you?”
I was confused. I didn’t even know what he was talking about. And I made sure to show him by the look on my face.
Milo pushed back and screeched in incomprehensible English.
“Thedeathknighproducerswanttospeaktoyou.”
“What?” I asked. “Say it again, slower please.”
I didn’t even need to wait for him to repeat to comprehend. TheDeath Knightproducers wanted to see me. Me. Leo Karras. The big fail.
Milo had been talking with the production team since the casting call circulated the industry experts, but I’d lost any hope of ever getting the part, or even attempting to, as my reputation preceded me. And I doubted a film production would want an ex-alcoholic, tabloid sensation, and boy-band member for the biggest superhero movie of the year. The decade even.
“You’re a mean man, Milo. Why would you joke about that?” I said and pushed him off me completely to return to the table where Beth was watching our interaction.
