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“Been celebrating.” He pulls me into another hug, filling my nostrils with the scent of mold and mothballs.
Ugh. He doesn’t know his own strength. And since when did someone buy a fifty-year-old garment without first sending it somewhere for fumigating?
“Okay.” I give him several hard slaps on the back. “What’s the good news, then?”
He finally lets go and gazes down at me through uneven pupils. I focus on the spot on the bridge of his nose because I don’t want to get lost in his eyes.
“It was you, wasn’t it?”
I take a step back. “Probably not. What are you talking about?”
“This.” He pulls out his lapel and shows me a silver badge etched with the outline of a man’s hair, his lashes and a zig-zag running down the left of his face.
I squint, noticing the image is surrounded by the faint outline of a star. “What’s that? A David Bowie thing?”
His face falls. “It’s not from you?”
I shake my head. “Looks like you’ve got a secret admirer.”
Veer’s shoulders droop. I’m not sure why, considering this is the man who as much as admitted I wasn’t worth marrying.
Not that I want him, but the rejection still stings.
“Well, catch you later.” I turn around.
He places a hand on my shoulder. “Wait.”
“What?”
“Thank you for the other day.” His words tumble out as a string of syllables. “For the pep talk, I mean.”
I glance over his shoulder. “You spoke to your dad?”
“And uncle.” He puffs out his chest. “I said business management wasn’t for me, and I was going to live off my music.”
His gaze is expectant and his entire posture bounces with restrained excitement, reminding me a little of Tigger fromWinnie the Pooh. I’ve never seen Veer act so animated, so whatever he’s about to say has to be good.
“How did that conversation go?” I ask.
“They both said no. Uncle Odin even threatened to come down to the University to sort me out, but my dad said to leave it until the end of term.”
“That’s good, right?”
He grins and nods. “I haven’t even gotten to the best part yet.”
“Which is?” Veer’s enthusiasm is infectious, and even I can’t help but smile.
“A concert venue in town wants us to perform a Sunday matinée show.” His smile fades for a second, as though either the venue or the time of day isn’t ideal, but he masks the disappointment with another broad grin. “Are you coming?”
“Which one?” I immediately regret suggesting that I might be interested.
“Whirligig. Do you know it?”
“Actually, I’m looking for a weekend job. If someone hires me on the spot, then I might be working on Sunday.”
“Let’s hope you don’t get it.” He shakes his head. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
My face tightens. “Yeah, well not all of us have your privilege.”
