I’m glad he’s clean. More than glad, I’m relieved. I might be pissed at Jake, but I don’t want him hurting himself on that rubbish.
“Honestly, talking to Jake about any of it is the last thing I want to do right now,” I say to Vicky. “The extent of my vocab with him will be about the tour and nothing more. I just want to go to New York, cover the show and then come back to London and get straight back to work. I just need to get back to normal – you know.”
“I do, and I’ll support you however I can.”
“Thank you.”
“Okay, so let’s get this New York ball rolling, the quicker it's done, the quicker you’re out – right? So do you want me to call Stuart and let him know you’re going, or do you want to call him?”
“I’ll call him,” I reply without hesitation.
I haven’t spoken to Stuart since I left. I miss him tons.
“Do you have his number there, Vicky?” I don’t have anyone’s numbers. They were all stored on my phone. The phone Jake broke.
I haven’t got a replacement yet. There hasn't been an opportunity to do so, and there’s no real point in having one at the moment. I’d only get calls I don’t want to receive. I do miss hearing Adele though.
Vicky gives me Stuart’s number, and I hang up from her.
I feel nervous calling Stuart. Calling him is the closest thing to calling Jake.
“Stuart Benson?” His lovely warm voice comes down the line and I feel my lip instantly wobble.
“Stuart, hi, it’s Tru.”
“Oh…um…hi.”
Okay, so that’s not the response I was hoping for. I guess he hasn’t missed me like I’ve missed him. And there was me thinking we were good friends. I’m so crap at judging people.
“I was just calling to, uh … let you know that I’ll be coming to cover the show in New York.”
Silence.
Is he mad at me or something?
“That’s great,” he finally says.
He doesn’t sound like he thinks it’s great.
“Stuart, is everything okay? Are you angry with me or something?”
“No, of course not gorgeous.” Well that sounded the most Stuart-like sentence I’ve heard this whole phone conversation.
“It’s just something,” he adds, emphasising on the ‘something’ and my brain clicks in.
“Jake’s there with you isn’t he?”
“Yes, I’m in the car, with – something and I figured, you wouldn’t want – you know.”
“Who the fuck are you being so cryptic with?” I hear Jake’s voice loud and clear in the background.
My heart starts to hurt just hearing his voice.
Oh God. I miss him so much.
No I don’t. I hate him.
I think.
I don’t know.
Crap.
Look at me. I hear his voice, and my head turns to mush. How the hell am I going to manage going to New York and seeing him for a whole day.
No, I’ll be fine. I can do it for Vicky and the magazine. That’s all that matters.
“I’m talking with my boyfriend,” Stuart says to him. “Mind your own fuckin’ business.”
“Since when have you got a boyfriend?” I can almost hear the pause and Jake’s mind working, and I just know what’s coming next. “Is that Tru on the phone?”
My heart stops dead in my chest.
“No,” Stuart says to him. “I’m gonna have to go lover,” he says down the line to me, “my ass of a boss won’t let me – Jesus Christ, Jake! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” I hear the tussle, and Stuart’s voice fading away, as Jake wrestles the phone from off him.
Any second now I’m going to hear his voice.
I want to hang up. No I don’t.
My hand is clamped around the phone, suddenly slick with sweat.
“Tru is that you?” Jake’s deep voice comes breathy down the line.
My chest tightens. I can’t speak.
“It is you isn’t it? That’s why you’re not saying anything.”
I take a deep breath, and exhale, “Yes.”
“Tru, oh God, baby, I miss you so much,” his words come out in a flurry and I can hear the relief in his voice. “Please let me see you. I need to talk to you. I’m so sorry for everything. Please just let me see you.” His voice starts to break down the line.
Tears fill my eyes.
I force them back with blinks, and then I steel myself to speak. “I’m coming to New York in a few days to cover the show.”
“You are? Oh thank god. Thank you, baby. You won’t regret this, we can talk and sort all of this out and–”
“No Jake. We’re not sorting anything out, because there’s nothing to sort out. I’m coming to cover the show because you’re forcing me to. Anything else, you and I, we’re done. For good. There’s nothing to discuss.”
“Tru, no, please.”