Everywhere: Book 3 of the Nowhere Trilogy

27. What Could've Been

Words never said in a story that didn't end - Gone West

12:58 AM, Tuesday, December 28, 2021

The second his phone showed Harry's number, Jeffrey knew this was somehow related to the blogger. As his thumb flicks the answer button, he's already rising from bed and finding his pants. While Harry asks the question about the band, one foot is already in a shoe, and shortly afterwards, he's fully dressed.

Finding out the band's location had been the easy bit. Actually, the whole thing had been fairly simple, including finding the place on the map, taking the elevator and stepping across the street to the bar. He doesn't even grouse as he navigates against the light. The girl has grown on him. That's the problem here. If these two ever get their shit together, they're going to be an amazing couple. But these days, she's taking more of Jeffrey's time than his actual client. Shaking his head at himself, he tries to clear the cobwebs. Chele actually takes very little of his time, and he would gladly do almost anything for her. Of all the women Harry has dated, he likes this one best.

Stepping into the bar, he winces at the horrible bassline pumping away just as he spies Harry with his hand on Chele's bar stool. And another guy's hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Hey, man! You with the band?" Jeffrey asks. "I might have some contacts who could help you out."

"Really, dude?" Bloodshot eyes stare back at him. "Who the fuck are you?"

In response, Jeffrey whips out a business card.

"Dude! Really?! You're Oscar Meyer from CAA? Awesome!"

"Call next week when I'm back in the office," Jeffrey tells him, relieved that he still carries a few business cards from his competitor. Turning back to Harry and Chele, he's just in time to hear his client yell, "She knows that I love you!"

"Wait. What?" Chele blinks. Focusing on him, a grin lights her face. "JEFFREY! Wanna dance?"

Oh, fuck. She's drunk. Harry's declaring his love. All in a bar with crappy music, probably shitty alcohol, and hopefully no cell phone cameras running. Removing Chele's coat from the chair, he wraps it around her shoulders before grasping her computer bag and carrying it on his own shoulder.

"Come on, Princess," he whispers to Chele. "Let's get you someplace quiet." Wrapping an arm around her, he steers her towards Soho House. Can't risk having her wake up MItch, Sarah and the rest. Once on the floor for members only, Jeffrey moves towards his own room, but Harry's eyes plead with him, and Jeffrey doesn't have the heart to say no.

"I'll get her some water," Harry comments as he opens the door.

"Let's have a seat over here, Chele," Jeffrey coaxes, and she agrees, her eyes drooping a bit. When she's settled in one of the chairs at the table, the manager kneels and pulls off her shoes. It's been a long time since he's been drunk, but he remembers how restricting shoes felt.

Wiggling her toes, Chele sighs.

"Wanna tell Jeffrey what happened?" His voice cajoles.

Her eyes widen, and then they fill with tears. "Harry wants Tiny. Ugh. I'm gonna be sick at that nickname."

Quickly, he grabs the trashcan, but she declines to use it, even though she clutches the receptacle to her chest.

Confused, Jeffrey gazes at his client who has appeared behind her back with a glass of water. Harry shakes his head and begins to speak, but Jeffrey shushes him with a single look. Having requested help from the manager, Harry needs to step aside and let Jeffrey solve this.