Page 85 of Walk the Line

I have so many other questions for her, but a large group cuts into the middle of us, and by the time they’re gone, so is she. I look around anyway, hoping to catch her somewhere around the room.

“Fuck, where did she go?” I say.

“It’s cool,” Daniel says with a sigh. “ I know no one on the team will speak to her so how reliable can those sources really be? But I’m gonna ask around about her, see who she’s been talking to. You guys know I know everyone here.” It’s true. “That’s why it pays to be friendly, guys.” He smiles to accentuate his words, but there’s something off about it. “I’ll make sure none of that shit goes in the paper.”

“Thanks, Daniel,” I say, hoping he’ll get to the bottom of those sources.

“I trust that he’ll sort it,” Julius says, pulling me softly towards him. He looks around the room, then takes my hand into his. “Come here,” he says, but I already know where we’re going.

I have no doubt he took the key to the store room earlier on because he knew we would need a moment in here tonight, and when we enter into the room enmeshed with darkness I don’t complain as memories come flooding back of the last time we were cooped up in here together.

“Oh, we’re here again?” I tease.

“It’s a good spot for when there are parties.”

“And these people love to party.”

“They do.”

Our hands are linked tightly together and our eyes find each other with ease just as they did last time. It’s the perfect moment for him to say, “Couldn’t have done any of this without you, Captain.”

I let out a breath. “Couldn’t have done any of this without you, Captain.”

We watch each other for a moment, the party going on outside this room but in here, time stands still.

“And to think Coach put us together because we were too miserable for his likings,” he finally says to break the silence, and I let out a loud laugh, because Coach was correct with his assumption.

Yet it all worked out in the end for the whole team.

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

JULIUS

The phone ringing on the left side of me wakes me up immediately.

I rub my hands against my eyes, adjusting to the morning light while trying my hardest not to wake Kaylah. It was a long night for us, and I’m going to bet we only got a couple of hours of sleep, so this call better not be a waste of time.

Seeing that it’s her phone ringing, I come to a realisation as the name on the screen jumps out at me, it’s too damn early for this. But I get my headphones out and pick up the phone anyway, everything I’ve learned so far about this woman preparing me for all kinds of things she may say.

“Hello,” I answer plainly.

“Have I got the wrong number?”

“You’re calling for Kaylah.” It’s not a question. The name on the phone literally says, Mother.

“I am.”

“You have the right number.”

There’s a pause, then, “Who is this?”

She sounds stern, serious. Pretty much the exact way I was expecting her to sound from the way Kaylah has described her.

“I’ll be handling Kaylah’s conversations with you from now on,” I say bluntly.

With a firmer voice, she says, “Who…who is this?”

“The person who will be handling Kaylah’s conversations with you from now on.”