Ed covered his mouth with his hand to mask the quirk of his lips. This level of excitement from contestants used to leave him stone cold. Lately, he’d started to see that some things couldn’t be faked. Pasha’s delight, for example, was 100 percent genuine.
The host nodded and then inclined his head toward the microphone set on the desk between them.
“Oh! I’ll start.” Pasha pulled his mic much closer. He drew in a slow breath, deepening his voice until he sounded a little like the host. “So, Ed. What first attracted you to sexy rising star and all-round brilliant performer, Pash Trueman?”
How the hell was he meant to answer that question?
Pasha tilted the mic Ed’s way before snatching it back. “Was it his exotic good looks?”
Ed tugged the mic toward him. “I think you mean hisforeigngood looks.”
“Oh, yes. Of course. Was it hisforeigngood looks that snared you?”
Now this was something Ed could work with. “The only foreign thing about you is your accent. You should try sticking to one at a time, Pash.”
The host interrupted. “That’s a great point, Ed. There’s been some debate about where you actually come from, Pasha. Care to shed some light on that for listeners?”
“Sure.”
Only the weeks they’d spent close together revealed Pasha’s unique version of tension. Out of the view of the host, his grip was tight on the seat of his stool. Ed covered it with his hand, and Pasha started talking.
“I was born in London, but I don’t recall much about that time.” His head dipped, and there was the tip of his tongue wetting his lips, another play for time Ed recognized. “Apart from my mum singing all the time. I do remember that.” He paused for a long moment. “Later, I lived with my auntie until I left home. She’s a singer as well, and she toured small venues all over the north of Britain. Places like Manchester, Newcastle, and Blackpool.”
Pasha’s grip on the stool loosened, but Ed kept his hand exactly where it was, distracted by this brand-new story.
“She lives abroad now, but when I was a kid my auntie went wherever the work was. I grew up doing my homework in the back of smoky workingmen’s clubs. And I spent six weeks every summer in holiday camps full of families I’d get to know until their holidays ended. Eventually, she got a long-term gig in a club in Glasgow, hosting karaoke.”
“So that’s where the Scottish accent came from?” The host abandoned his tea. “But you don’t sound Scottish today. It sounds like you could come from anywhere at all. How come?”
“I wasn’t kidding when I said we moved around a whole lot.”
He shifted like he was uncomfortable, and Ed let go of his hand. Pasha grabbed it before he could move far.
“Sometimes we’d live in four or five different towns or cities in a school year. The quickest way to fit in was to sound like everyone else around me.” He glanced sideways and met Ed’s gaze. “I looked enough like some of the Muslim kids to fit in when we lived in Bradford, but I didn’t sound like them or share their traditions. Weird that the one place I had a slight advantage was where I actually felt most out of place. Then I wasn’t as white as most of my schoolmates the whole time I lived in Scotland, but I’d got the hang of learning accents by then. I could blend in. Copying accents and making people laugh were good ways to avoid a kicking. I might not have passed many exams, but it turns out they’re both great skills for a career in telesales. I can sound like pretty much anyone if I listen.”
He reached for a glass of water with his left hand. A few drops spilled before he set it down. “It puts people at ease if you speak like them. I liked that. I never liked selling stuff cold over the phone, especially when people sounded lonely or worried. I’d keep talking about whatever they wanted instead. Kinda sounds stupid when I say it out loud.”
There was a long moment of dead air.
“Wow.” The host said. “Doesn’t sound stupid to me. So basically you’re from a family of singers, and you were shipped from pillar to post for as long as you can remember, but you found a way to make friends. Then you used what those tough times taught you. That sounds?—”
“Brave,” Ed said. “I’ve lived in the same house my entire life. I still have the same friends.” Well, he had Steve’s wife Mandy at least, if she was still talking to him. “Then I had a whole battalion at my back. Kids can be little shi?—”
Pasha pulled the microphone close and then mimicked the host so well it might as well have been him speaking. “So, let’s try that again, Ed. What first attracted you to sexy rising star and all-round brilliant performer, Pash Trueman?”
Ed opened his mouth, then closed it. Where the hell should he start?
Pasha spoke again, and this time he sounded exactly like himself. “London wants to know, Ed. What do you like about me?”
Ed looked into eyes that crinkled a little at their corners. It was easy to be honest when those faint crinkles deepened.
“Everything,” he said. “I like everything about you.”
8
PASHA
Amuch larger crowd than usual had gathered outside the venue when they arrived for the next live show. Pasha tried to count their fans, but he quickly gave up when he saw both sides of the street cordoned off.