Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 133034 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133034 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
She laughs, and wow, I’ve missed her. She’s been there for me right from the start of my entertainer journey. My primary contact.
“Good job, Holly. Keep on getting those five-star reviews. I’ll still be monitoring the incoming proposals, don’t worry, and I’ll also re-open your account to your regulars, if you’d like?”
To my regulars…
I get another rollercoaster lurch at her words, because I was beginning to wonder if it was a simple coincidence. Of all my incoming proposals in the past few days, my main clients have been silent. And I miss them. I miss them all. Daddy, Mr Monthly, Jack and Eric, Mr Chase-Me-Through-Cow-Poop. So many clients I’m pining for.
Just not as much as Heath.
Just a glimmer of thought about him brings the rollercoaster lurch back so fast, I feel sick.
“I’d love to have my regulars’ proposals hitting my inbox,” I tell her. “Familiar faces will be very welcome. I feel like I’ve been living in a cave to be honest, cut off from the world. It’s been horrible.”
“No surprise to me. It must have been hell. Where are you now?”
“An Airbnb north of the city. Tucked at the back of a residential street in the suburbs. It’s only small. Inconspicuous.” I take a breath before I dare to carry on. “When you said to um, have patience, and that you have fingers in pies and all that, does that mean…”
“Does that mean what, darling? That you don’t have to stay in an Airbnb for the rest of your life?”
I nod, a fresh pang rising up, and there’s a lump at the back of my throat. Part relief, part missing people, part appreciation. Beyond words.
“I just want to go home,” I choke. “At some point, I mean. I just want to go home.”
“Yes, I can imagine.” She sighs. “Take that back actually, I probably can’t. I have no idea how shit it would be to have your whole life uprooted like that.”
“Do you think I’ll be able to go home at some point? Tiff keeps telling us that the reporters have gone, and that we should go back.”
“Creamgirl is very… confident. Determined.”
I laugh at that.
“Ballsy and prepared to stick a middle finger up at anyone who needs one, you mean? Yeah, I know. I love her.”
“So do we. But, again, I’d suggest a little bit of patience. It’s your call, and your decision to make, but I’d personally hold off awhile. The Belgravia towers are quite high profile. Easy to observe while people are still keen to watch them.”
“I get it. We’ll stay clear until things have eased up a bit. Hopefully not too much longer if Connor keeps being a douche, hey?”
I know she’s smiling when I hear her happy sigh.
“No, hopefully not too much longer. He’s keeping the spotlight firmly on his own drama. But in the meantime, you don’t have to restrict yourself to one Airbnb, right? There isn’t exactly a shortage in the city. Live it up. Enjoy yourself. Keep it varied. Both at home as well as work.”
Enjoy myself. It’s a phrase that wouldn’t even have occurred to me a few weeks ago.
“I’m just tweaking your inbox on the system,” Orla says. “Your regulars will have access again… now.”
A well of joy opens up inside me. I hope I get to see all of them. Every single one.
If they still want me.
“Thank you,” I say to Orla. “Honestly, I’ll never be able to show my appreciation enough. The Agency is beyond amazing. It’s opened up so many doors I’d have never even dreamt of, and to know that’s not going away is…” I look at the ceiling. “It’s such a relief.”
“I’m glad,” she tells me. “Any problems with clients whatsoever, come to me and I’ll take a look into it. I’m always just a message away.”
“You’re amazing. Thank you, Orla.”
“Oh, and just one more thing,” she says. “It might not just be me checking in on you, now you’re back in action. You might get a certain proposal come in, too. The founders are… always keen to investigate matters.”
My breath hitches at that. The founders.
The founders of The Agency. The powers behind the scenes.
Oh my God. Handling that kind of a proposal feels a lifetime away.
A sleep mask at a workshop has nothing on the kind of anonymity they demand during a proposal. And being double-spannered has nothing on their scale of extremity.
“I look forward to it,” I tell Orla, and wave as she ends the call.
I flop back against the cushions in relief. Josh’s comment about monsters growing in the shadows is true. Mine have been growing out of control since Connor’s stupid song. It’s time I learnt to stand firm. To be myself and stare demons in the eye, trusting my own strength to cope with the darkness.
There is always a light at the end of the tunnel. Mine was just out of view, and I was too scared to look for it.