Page 88 of Give Me What I Want

“Brilliant,” I huffed under my breath then took the bag from the delivery guy. I placed it down on the unit by the wall then opened a drawer to search for a tip for the guy. I found a handful of coins, and winced as I handed them over. “I’m sorry, it’s not great. I don’t really carry cash; the guys usually handle this stuff.”

The delivery guy flashed me a smile as he pocketed the coins. “It’s better than I get from most, Miss Bolton.”

“Still, it’s not enough. Erm…” I was biting my lip, half thinking, half worried about my guys as I glanced around the foyer.

“Honestly, it’s fine. Enjoy your food.” The guy walked off, retreating to a moped that sat just outside the garage. He climbed on, shoved his helmet over his head, then turned in the driveway and left.

I stood in the doorway for a while, staring, still waiting. Then decided that I was just irritating myself, and that I needed to do something productive instead. So I grabbed my phone and called Garth.

“Beatrix, no offence, but I could do without hearing your voice for at least one day,” he said as he answered.

“Right back at’cha,” I said, walking aimlessly around the house. “But I have a problem, the guys are all out, and I’m not sure who I should be calling to deal with it.”

“It’s not my job to fix every little thing for you,” he complained.

True. “Our front gate has been busted, obviously that makes this a whole band issue, not just me. Seeing as you quite like my bandmates, I reckon you won’t mind helping me out. Your precious Ro-ro’s safety is in jeopardy here.”

Garth barked a laugh. “MyRo-ro. Bea, he’s all yours, that’s clear for anyone to see.” There was something a little bitter in his tone, but he went on. “That is a band issue though, so you’re right. I’ll help you out, want me to come over?”

“No,” I snapped, then muttered an apology, it wasn’t his fault that I was on edge, but I didn’t want to see him, he was tired of my voice, I was sick of his face. “Just tell me who to call to get it fixed.”

“In the bottom drawer next to the fridge there should be a whole stack of paperwork, you’re looking for a company called Cova, you’ll find contact details for repairs in their booklet. Are you sure you don’t want me to come over?” He didn’t sound like he particularly wanted to, so we were on the same page, for once.

“Nope, I’ll get on it. Thanks. Bye.” I hung up before he could, then went in search of the paperwork in question, dumping the sushi on the counter, my appetite was well and truly gone. I should have put it in the fridge and kept it chilled for the guys when they got back, but I was more concerned with the front gate problem.

The paperwork was easy enough to find, and I called the number on the bottom of the back page as I grabbed a battered notepad and pen and went to sit in the lounge, curling up on the sofa with the pad balanced on my knees.

I doodled as I sat listening to godawful hold music, the type that you’d expect to hear in an elevator, wedging my phone between my shoulder and ear. Too many minutes passed, and just as I was about to give up and text the number to Garth, asking him to just deal with it, someone answered. I ran through what I knew, which turned out to be very little. The guy on the other end of the phone was patient with me and assured me that they would deal with the issue quickly for us.

“Are you able to go out to the gate and describe the damage a little better for me? I’ll need to know if it’s a repair job or replacement,” the gate-man said.

“Sure,” I said with a sigh, heaving myself up off of the sofa and slipping a pair of slippers on before heading to the front door, not wanting to get caught outside with icy toes again. “I’ll head out there now.”

Just as I approached the door it swung open, and Cole came in grinning. “Hey, gorgeous. We found him,” he exclaimed.

I took a step back, asked the guy on the phone to hold on a sec, and then covered the speaker. “You did?” I asked, my smile creeping in, matching Coles.

“We did, they should be back any second,” Cole explained. “I drove the Audi, and Ro drove Mav’s car, he was a bit wobbly when we found him, but he seemed okay when I left them.”

“You left them?” I took another step back, shaking my head as my smile began to drop. “Cole, they’re probably pulled over somewhere arguing.”

“They aren’t,” he said, still grinning, then jerked his head towards the driveway. “See.”

Outside, coming up the drive with music blasting, were Ronan and Maverick. Cole pulled me to the doorway, then turned to me. “Oh, by the way, the front gate looks a little worse for wear, what’s that all about?”

“My guess is it was Jordan, I’m on the phone to…Oh crap!” I put the phone back to my ear. “Sorry, I’m still here, erm…” I covered the speaker again, then looked at Cole. “It’s the gate company, I’m trying to get it fixed. Can you deal with it though? I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

“Me neither, but sure thing,” he said, then took my phone. “Hey, this is Cole, Bea is a bit shit at explaining stuff, so I’m going to take over, what do you need me to do?”

He was one to talk, but I didn’t argue, I didn’t even roll my eyes. Instead, I leaned against the doorframe, slumping as relief flooded through my veins, and watched the guys in the car. They had pulled up just outside the garage doors, switched off the engine, but hadn’t got out. I could hear the music still pumping in the car, and watched with amusement bubbling in my chest as they screamed along to… Jesus Christ, was that Defying Gravity from Wicked? Were my two heavily tattooed, hardcore-as-hell, bandmates—world-famous rockstars—screaming along to show tunes?

Ronan’s hair was wild, black strands falling out of its usual perfectly styled place. Mav’s face was turning red from the effort of hitting each note. They weren’t taking turns, each trying to play Elphie and Glinda.

“Is ever gonna bring me down,” they both yelled, not even singing anymore, just being, well, loud as fuck.

A laugh slipped through my lips as the song came to an end, and they both fell forward, Ro’s head on the steering wheel, Mav’s on the dash, no doubt entirely out of breath from that performance, and no doubt many others on the journey home.

Burn from Hamilton came on next, and I ran over to the car before they had a chance to catch their breath and destroy another song from another admittedly decent musical. I yanked open the closest door to me, Mav’s. He looked up at me, smiling with flushed cheeks and a sparkle in his eye that hadn’t been there before he had left.

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