The man had issued a threat dressed up as congratulations. “Keep this up,” he’d said, “and I’llreallyenjoy enforcing your contract.” Pasha had only let himself dwell fully on the implication as the plane ascended, nose lifted toward Scotland—if either of them won the contest, management could keep them apart for much longer than a week. They’d all signed their professional lives away for two years, and Gerry had intimated that having a relationship during that time would be impossible. “I’ve contacts all over the world,” he’d said. “Hard to see much of your boyfriend if you’re touring on the other side of the planet.”
Pasha huffed out a huge sigh that abruptly cut off when his phone chimed in his hand.
Management might not want him contacting Ed or Anya, but they hadn’t added Mandy to his no-contact list. Her name filled his screen followed by a simple smile emoticon, and his low mood swiftly lightened.
He returned the call instead of replying to her by text. “Hey.”
“Och aye the noo!” She answered right away, giggling when Pasha groaned, as he had half a dozen times already that week.
“That really doesn’t mean hello. I’ve told you that, Mandy. You should stop before I start thinking you’re racist.” He watched the production assistant talk to a TV crew unloading equipment from a nearby van. “I’m going to have to go soon. What’s new with you?”
“Nothing much,” Mandy admitted. “Just wanted to check in with you.” She spoke up over the sound of an unhappy baby. “Was up all night with Joe, who then decided 4:00 a.m. was a fine time to start the day. It’s raining sideways down here, and I haven’t seen another adult since Monday. I wondered who else might be as down as me. You were my second choice of miserable bastard to keep me company. Hang on, Pash.” She murmured and crooned for a minute or two, until the crying let up.
Pasha lowered his voice now that it wasn’t being drowned out. “Who was your first choice?”
“You know who.” Mandy blew out a breath. “Have you heard anything from him?”
“No, and I’m not going to risk his place in the contest by getting in touch.”
“I keep thinking about him being out there on his own.”
Pasha watched a spatter of rainwater that trickled down the car window. He followed its progress instead of answering.
“Pash?”
“He’s not on his own.” But Ed might be if he won. The only difference was that Ed would man up and deal with two yearsof separation if that meant Mandy and Joe benefited. Gerry Hanson’s threats wouldn’t scare him. He’d suck it up and deal.
He must have spoken aloud. Mandy asked, “Deal with what?” Then she asked another question, sounding concerned. “And what threats are you talking about exactly?”
Pasha cursed under his breath.
“If this is about Ed, you should tell me, Pash.” The love and concern in her voice was so real, echoing brand-new emotions he’d been trying hard to squash down.
“The contract means Gerry can make the winner go wherever he sends them.” More raindrops spattered the window, a sudden squall he had to speak up over. “Anywhere in the world, for twenty-four months give or take a few weeks.”
“Nope.” Her certainty threw him.
“Yes it does.”
“No, Pash. It really doesn’t.” Her voice softened. “Not for Ed. You think I didn’t scrutinize the small print when I found out what Ed had done for us?” She hushed the baby before continuing. “I went through it with his mum. They can’t make him leave the country for longer than a few days if he has dependents, like they can’t make Anya go anywhere or do anything at all while she’s still under eighteen. Ed added Joe to his list as well as his mum. There’s no way that threat will hold water.”
“Really?” As quickly as the rain had started, it was over, sun turning the raindrops on the window into diamonds, glistening and so bright that he still saw them with his eyes closed. They were still there, if a little blurred with relief, when he next looked. A man left the warehouse and approached the car. “Shit, I’ve got to go, but thank you. Thank you so much.”
Pasha faced his morning feeling so much lighter. That lightness only flickered later when he caught the lunchtime news before his next engagement. Sitting in a break room waitingfor his call to do a sound check in a local shopping center, he caught the tail end of a report on troops withdrawing from Camp Bastion. His teacup clattered in its saucer when he caught a glimpse of Ed surrounded by soldiers playing a spirited game of football that raised dusty clouds as they tackled.
The reporter’s story focused on the extraction of British troops and what would be left behind once the exodus was over. It was a time of significant change, he suggested, asking if Ed saw much difference after twelve months away. The camera cut to Ed, who took off sunglasses before answering.
Pasha stood, his chair falling to the floor behind him unnoticed, and approached the wall-mounted TV. From up close it was clear Ed’s freckles had darkened. A few days’ intense sun meant white lines were visible at the corners of his eyes as well.
“There were over two thousand troops here when I left.” Ed looked over his shoulder where men Pasha guessed must be from his battalion stood. Their backs were straight, their arms crossed and focus intent, as if Ed were theirs to guard instead of the one constantly protecting other people. “Now it’s like a ghost town. It’ll be like we were never here in the first place. Makes me wonder….” He looked down at the ground, helmet shadowing his eyes just when Pasha wished he could see his expression. “Well, it makes me wonder about a whole lot.”
The camera panned to show soldiers wielding cutting equipment farther along the same wall Ed had leaned on. They removed sections that had been decorated, the reporter said, as makeshift memorials honoring fallen comrades. When it refocused on Ed’s face, the camera captured the flicker of an emotion Pasha couldn’t name.
“And have you come to any conclusions?” The reporter’s voice wavered momentarily at the sound of far-off gunfire.
Ed stepped away from the wall, allowing the camera to capture a mural he had blocked with his body. Shades of green,lush and familiar, fell away to a pale green sea that sparkled, and in the forefront of the mural, two small boys played soldiers.
Ed traced Steve’s name along with his dates of birth and death before answering, and his voice was rock steady.