At some point Paul ended up out on the balcony.There was his sea view, night sky meeting the equally dark ocean over the tops of the city’s roofs, and below, late-night traffic crawling through the near silent streets.Easiest thing in the world to lean over a little too far.Swan dive his way to a different ending.Except, that wasn’t who he was.He could never do that to those he loved.Black Halo didn’t need that sort of shit to deal with, and his parents didn’t deserve to have the remains of their only offspring scraped off a section of tarmac and shipped home to them in a box.
 
 On the other hand, oblivion sounded like paradise right around now.
 
 His phone beeped.Paul retrieved it and scrolled through the scores of unanswered messages.His dad again, pestering for dates.When are you coming home?When will we see you?We need to talk to you, son.The D’Amon brothers: Sorry we missed you.Hoped to catch up before we left town.Arrangements need to be made.
 
 Eloise: What’s this shit about you getting hitched?What happened to my fucking invite?
 
 Elspeth: WTF Paul?!!Who is this bitch?
 
 Ginny: Is Jodi with you?Ghosties are looking for her.Hope you’re not doing anything naughty, Paul Reed.
 
 Ginny: Scratch that.I hope you’re giving her the ride of her life.
 
 Ginny: She’s cute.I like her.
 
 Ginny: Approved for BH consumption.
 
 Ginny: Alle says, J knows you’re ribbed for pleasure, right?Guess we’ll know if we see her sprinting through the foyer like a giant cock monster’s about to stab her in the pussy.
 
 Ginny: And we’ll know about the riding part if she’s walking funny.
 
 Ginny: Huh?No response.You must be busy.I sometimes think you must be as sadistic as Spook to have put all that metal in your knob.Anyways, happy shagging.
 
 Allegra: The boyfriend’s heading your way.
 
 Lee: What just went down?Nash went up to yours to get Jo, and now he’s back in the bar downing shots like he’s been shat on by the world’s fattest pigeon.All I can get out of him are grunts, and Jo’s not replying to calls or me hammering on her door.Is she still with you?
 
 If she was, he wouldn’t be looking at his fucking messages.
 
 Ronnie: Can I come to your room and hang?
 
 Ronnie: Right, figured why you’re not replying.
 
 Ronnie: Does she suck as good as me, man?
 
 Ronnie: Are you fucking her tits while he’s in her cunt?
 
 Ronnie: Ooh!What did you do?He just threatened to shove a metal straw up my urethra.Should I come up?
 
 No.What he needed was for everyone to piss off and leave him alone!
 
 He threw the phone, but instead of the satisfying fracturing of its screen and a final bleep before it succumbed to digital death, it bounced and landed on the carpet with not so much as a dent to show for his efforts.
 
 Fucking thing!Fucking with him, same as everything sodding else.
 
 He picked it up and bounced it off the floor another couple of times.Bastard thing evidently possessed forcefield technology, because nada when usually all you had to do was smile the wrong way and the fuckers cracked.He locked it in the mini fridge as punishment.
 
 The two beers he removed to make space for the phone went down his throat smoothly enough.The following shots with a variety of grimaces.Then again, by the time he got to the peach schnapps, the fact that it tasted like fruity nail polish barely registered.
 
 The whole cocktail came up again less than an hour later in one gloriously cinematic fountain, most of which hit the toilet bowl.The rest he dropped a towel over, before crawling out of the bathroom and passing out on the floor in the aisle between the two beds, still stark naked, her knickers making for a pitiful pillow.
 
 **
 
 Paul didn’t make it down to breakfast, and he only got into the car meant to ferry them back to the tour bus because Samson nearly beat his door down after a stream of minions had failed to get Paul’s arse out of bed.
 
 “Well, you look like shit,” Ash observed.Naturally, Ash looked like he’d been fanned by angels all flippin’ night.Hair perfect.Eyes all smiley.The bastard was even freshly shaved.Paul’s jaw felt like twenty-four grit sandpaper.
 
 “Rough night?”Ginny asked, attempting to nudge Paul’s sunglasses off his nose for a closer look at his face, but he shied away from her attempt to expose him.Bad enough he was sporting a nine o’clock shadow equally composed of burst capillaries as fuzz, he didn’t need the fact that his eyes were so bloodshot and swollen they’d work as an advert for the next big zombie game being observed and remarked upon.“Allergies kicking your butt?”