Page 13 of Next Time I Fall (Excess All Areas 2)

He grinned at her. “Good. I’m just in the back of a ride with Alex heading to the studio.”

Alex leaned in so they could both get in the video. “Hey, Nan.”

“Oh, my precious boys. Don’t you look all windswept. Is it cold?”

Alex nodded. “Fucking freezing, to be honest.”

“Well, get yourself to one of those shopping centre thingies, what do they call them? Malls. That’s it. Get yourself to a mall and get a nice hat.”

Jase laughed. “If you loved us, you’d have knitted us all hats and scarves and gloves before we left.”

“I knitted matching jumpers for you all when you were little, and you, Jason Palmer, lost one of every pair of gloves I ever made for you within a week of having them, even if I put them on strings. I’m not wasting my retirement knitting you all hats and gloves. I’m off down the bingo tonight with your mum, Alex. We’re like free birds without you lot at home.”

“Glad to see you’re missing us, Nan,” Alex replied.

“It’s only been four days. Ask me in a couple of weeks if I still feel the same. Now, be good boys and do your best. I’ve got to go and get my hair set at Barbara’s before she bobs off to Tenerife. You know how the cold weather affects her lumbago.”

“Love you, Nan. Enjoy the bingo.” Jase waited for Alex and Nan to say their goodbyes and hung up the phone.

“Do you think Matt will have made any progress tightening up the lyrics? It’s totally going to fuck up some of my arrangements,” Alex said as they pulled into the studio parking lot.

“I have no doubt. After that feedback session yesterday, Matt couldn’t have sucked up to Bexter any harder unless he’d had Bexter’s dick in his mouth. Bet he stayed up all night working on it.”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Come on. Get it all out of your system before we arrive so you don’t go charging in there.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Alex placed his black nail polish-tipped fingers on Jase’s shoulder. “You make it fucking hard to be on your side, mate, the way you go off on Matt. What was it Miss Sherlock used to say in primary school?”

Jase grunted. “Use your words.”

“Yeah. Use your words instead of your fists, or your legs. You looked like a dick when you marched out on Bexter yesterday.”

“Oh, god. Are you kissing his arse now?”

Alex shook his head. “No. I’m your best friend. I want what’s best for you. Don’t give a flying fuck about Bexter, to be honest. But I don’t want you to blow this for yourself. You don’t want to be skint anymore. You want some cash and a better life?” Alex pointed to the building. “It’s in there, mate.”

Jase glanced at Alex and then opened the car door, stepping outside just as a frigid blast of air blew through the lot. He let the sting of it cool his anger. Sometimes, it blew up for no real reason. At least, none he could put his finger on. Sometimes, it was the mere mention of easy triggers. Matt. His childhood. The band, which he contributed to less than a fraction of anyone else. He walked a tightrope of feeling that the band only existed because of him as a singer to a deep loathing of himself for his ambivalence.

“Want a coffee?” Jase asked as they entered the building.

“Nah. I’m good. I’ll see you in there.”

Jase’s head, while not the throbbing mess it was when he’d woken up disoriented in his hotel room, was muddled. Unclear.

The soft floral scent of her reached him before he turned the corner to see Cerys making a cup of tea. She wore skinny jeans, ripped at the knees, but this time she had a black slouchy sweater that slipped off one shoulder, revealing creamy skin and a black camisole, silk maybe. Her hips swayed as if dancing to music.

“Well, if it isn’t the intern. Morning, Baby Bexter,” he said, reaching over her to grab a mug from the shelf and setting the coffee maker to make a large black coffee.

He saw her shoulders lift in a sigh before she turned to face him. “It’s Cerys. While I’m at work.”

Jase leaned back on the refrigerator, crossing his arms and legs. “I prefer Baby Bexter.”

Cerys popped a hip and glared at him. “Well, as funny as this might be for you, my professional reputation is important to me, and people don’t need reminding that I’m Jimmy’s daughter.”

Jase scoffed. “You think they don’t remember that every day?” He saw the flicker of hurt, or maybe guilt in her eyes—his radar was off with her.

“Maybe they do. But you don’t need to be a dick about it.”

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