Where should he start?
“It’s amazing, and it’s awful. It gets so cold like you wouldn’t believe until the snot freezes in your nose. Or it’s so hot that all you want for breakfast is a cold beer or six. But you deal with the climate eventually.” It was either that or lose your mind. “Afghanistan’s….”
“What?” Pasha twisted even more to face him, bridging a leg over one of Ed’s for balance. “It’s what?”
“You haven’t been there?”
“Nope. Believe it or not, they don’t send us all back to top up our tans in the summer holidays.”
That wink was much more like the Pasha who filled their shared house with stupid jokes and laughter.
“London is the farthest south I’ve been in my whole life.”
“Well, Afghanistan’s like nowhere else on the face of the Earth. It could be on another planet. Not like home at all.” The nights especially, when the canopy of stars hung so low itseemed reachable from the banks of the wadis he’d patrolled. “When people aren’t shooting at you, it can be kind of magical.”
“You got shot at?”
Jesus, could Pasha’s eyes open any wider?“Yes. And sometimes we did the shooting. Mostly we did a lot of sitting around and waiting. Or patrolling. But there are a lot of hours in the day.”
“Yeah, but waiting and patrolling with guns, though.” Pasha’s brows drew down into a frown. “So what the hell did she mean about the Army not wanting you back?”
Ed had a pretty good idea.
His nine-year stint in the forces had been all about duty. He’d done his since the age of eighteen, following orders when maybe a cleverer bloke would have hesitated, at least a few times. You couldn’t do that day after day and be weak willed. It was impossible. Keeping the peace could be as dangerous as conflict, but Ed had done as ordered… right up until the one time he couldn’t.
He realized he hadn’t spoken for a while when Pasha shifted slightly. When Pasha almost overbalanced, Ed shot a hand out to brace him.
Pasha didn’t pull back. If anything, he leaned into Ed’s support.
Maybe it was the utter shitty turn the whole day had taken. Perhaps misery really did love company. But for whatever reason, Ed tightened his grip and confessed, “I was involved in a situation. My company had orders to move on. I couldn’t.”
“And they threw you out of the Army for that?”
“No. Not exactly. It was time to re-up or come home. Now I’m going home all over again.” Only this time he had no way to make up for failing.
“And that’s what you want? To go home.”
“No!” Ed pulled back a little. “Not yet, at least. But it sounds like that’s what Gerry Hanson’s decided. I’d stay if I got the chance. I stay until the end and give winning my best shot.”
Pasha wiggled closer, and studied his face. “You know, that’s the first time you’ve sounded like you want to win this. You’re a good singer,” he added. “Lazy, but at least you hit the notes you’re meant to. If this contest wasn’t rigged, you might even get to the final if you made better song choices. Something sexy for the ladies instead of that sad shit you’ve been singing. But you’d have to really want it. Sing like a winner, I mean.”
“Sexy for the ladies?” Ed huffed out a short laugh. “That’s not exactly in my skill set. I’m better singing stuff I know already. Like the song my friend wrote.”
That’s what had kept him going when he’d queued for hours at the auditions with what felt like a million others, all for a chance to humiliate himself in public. “The contest winner gets to record the last song they sing. It’s right there in the contract. Getting to do that…?” He shook his head and looked away. “Getting to record Steve’s song? That’s the only thing I’d fight for right now.”
“You just want to record one song?” Pasha’s elbow was sharp between his ribs when Ed didn’t answer. He curved a hand around Ed’s chin and tugged. “What about the two-year recording contract? Surely you?—?”
The door swinging open unexpectedly stopped Pasha mid-question.
The young technician from earlier stood with his mouth hanging open.
“Yes?” Pasha asked, as if two men sprawled on the floor were completely normal. “Can we help you?” His fingers flexed against Ed’s face for a second before subtly tightening. “Why don’t you take a picture? It would last a whole lot longer.” When the technician actually pulled his phone from a pocket, Pashalet out a laugh. “I didn’t actually mean it. Can you imagine what people would say if they saw this? It’s not how it looks, I promise.”
“I was only going to ask if I could get a picture with you. I’m sure you’re going to be this year’s winner.” The technician blinked quickly as he back-pedaled. “No offence, Mr. Britten.”
“None taken. And it’s Ed.”
This kid wasn’t to know they were both already losers. Ed started to move away, but Pasha grabbed his wrist before he could withdraw.