Generation Next (19 page)

Once we were inside the coffee shop, the debate got even more heated, to the point where AJ gave up trying to referee between the two of us and went to grab us some lattes. I was horrified that Austin could see anything good about this proposal, but he seemed completely into it. What was up with that? Didn't he have any faith in what we were doing, in what we had already done? AJ wasn't much help either, telling us that he could see both sides and wanted to look through in detail what Herald were actually proposing before he decided which side of the fence he was going to come down on.

I sat there for a while, sipping my coffee and brooding about the meeting, and then I reminded Austin that we'd agreed not to make any decisions about anything until we'd Skyped Sai and Ava. That was one of the coolest things about the GenNext team—everybody got to say their piece, and every decision we made had to be a unanimous one. I tried to banish the thought that our fifth member wasn't around to be a part of the decision-making process this time. I felt sure that Ella would totally get where I was coming from and that she'd agree that there was something weird about Herald and their insistence that they wanted a piece of us.

AJ took his laptop out of its case and connected to the coffee shop's Wi-Fi.

“Let's do it right now,” he said. “I did tell them we'd make contact late their time, right after the meeting, so they'll be waiting.”

It was good to see Ava's face flash up on the screen in front of us as we all huddled around AJ's laptop, waving like idiots. Sai was peering over Ava's shoulder, grinning.

“I'm so jealous right now, guys,” he yelled. “It's bucketing down with rain here and you're out there—I'm well depressed.”

Everyone laughed, and then I blurted out what was really on my mind.

“Have you heard anything from Ella, Ava? Has she messaged you? How is she?”

“Just this,” Ava said, tapping at her phone and then holding it up for me to read.

“Is that it?” I said, a little deflated.

“I'm afraid so,” Ava said. “What's happening out there? How was the meeting?”

“It was awful,” I said.

“It was amazing,” Austin said, almost simultaneously.

Sai and Ava looked confused as Austin made an attempt to elbow his way in front of me and hog the camera, shoving me out of the way.

“So which was it, amazing or awful?” Sai said.

“Awful!”

“Amazing!”

I shoved Austin back and he flew sideways off his chair.

“I think we'd best start from the beginning,” AJ said, helping Austin up off the floor. “It's a long story and we're going to need to go through every detail.”

Over the next fifteen minutes, Austin and I talked Ava and Sai through the meeting, argued our points, and generally yapped over one another while the two of them watched us attentively through the screen. I was almost out of breath by the time I'd finished my diatribe on how awful and manipulative I felt Herald Media was, and I thought I'd done a bloody good job of convincing them I was talking sense. I was wrong.

“Look, Jack, this is something we need to at least consider,” Ava said. “OK, so we don't jump into it without further talks, but this seems like a massive opportunity to me.”

“Me too,” Sai said, nodding furiously from behind her.

“And that's what I've been saying,” Austin said, banging the table. “We just need to think about it. And we need to think about it
fast
, because we've only got three days to make up our minds before they withdraw the offer.”

I suddenly realized I was losing the battle, and that was when I got angry.

“Ava, you weren't there,” I said, raising my voice. “Herald are, like, the opposite of everything we stand for: corporate, controlling . . . I had a really bad feeling about it and you of all people would hate it, I know you would.”

“Maybe I would, but I still want to know more,” Ava said. “I think we should at least move forward and talk to them; let AJ get to grips with what the offer consists of.”

“We've all potentially got university fees to think of. We could set ourselves up with a deal like this, man. Maybe buy our own flats and cars,” Sai agreed. “We can't just dismiss it.”

“Don't you think I want a flat and a car, Sai?” I said, jumping out of the chair. “I want all that but I want it on
our
terms, not like this.”

After that everyone just started shouting, all desperate to be heard. In the end, we were politely asked to leave the coffee shop because we were disturbing the other customers, but not before I'd reminded everyone of the GenNext rule regarding decision-making—it had to be unanimous if we moved forward, and this very definitely wasn't.

“If you want to keep me as the face of GenNext, then this isn't happening,” I said firmly.

I could sense that everyone was getting increasingly pissed off with me, and it wasn't a good feeling, I can tell you. Apart from the brief fall-out after my leaked video, we'd barely even had words before, let alone a
transatlantic shouting match. Still, this was important. GenNext, and everything it stood for, was at stake and I wasn't going to keep my mouth shut no matter how annoyed the rest of the team were.

“So you're happy to hold us all back, are you?” Ava snapped.

“I've got nothing else to say,” I yelled, walking away from the table. “That's my final word.”

I didn't wait for AJ and Austin to come out of the coffee shop. Instead I got out my iPhone and ordered an Uber before firing Austin a text telling him that I'd be back in a couple of hours. I just needed to be on my own for a while, you know?

I took the Uber to Venice Beach and then I hopped out and walked along the boardwalk, which stretched out in front of me, side by side with the Pacific Ocean. I watched the skaters and the rollerbladers, the bodybuilders and the buskers. There were street vendors and performers everywhere I looked—everything from break-dancers to people walking on bits of broken glass, mime artists and musicians. It seemed so lively and beautiful, and yeah, I felt happy and excited being surrounded by all that, I really did.

There was something else, though: a weird melancholy feeling pulling inside me, right down in the pit of my stomach. Have you ever experienced that? Waves of happiness and sadness all at the same time—optimism and a sense
of doom hand in hand. The euphoria of last night paired with the horrible meeting of this morning. The thing was, just at that moment, I couldn't even work out exactly what it was that was making me feel like that. Was it the fight with my friends about Herald? Was it my mum? Ella? All I knew was that I had to pull myself together, because over the next couple of days the stakes were going to be high and I was expected to shine. Only right then and there, I didn't feel very shiny at all.

I hung out on Venice Beach a lot longer than I'd planned to. In fact, I only decided to leave when I remembered Ella's warning that my skin was the kind that burned easily and it dawned on me that the last thing I needed on top of everything else was to look like a bloody tomato interviewing a massive pop star the following day. I'd thought long and hard about messaging Ella, or even calling her, as I sat on the wall overlooking the beach, just staring out to sea. In the end I didn't. Mainly because I couldn't stand the thought of her ignoring my call or not wanting to speak to me, or anything else that was going to make me feel any more alienated than I already did. I wasn't ready to go another few rounds with Austin and AJ either, but deep down I knew we had to come to a
fast decision about the Herald Media offer, so I stood up and took a breath. It was time to face the music.

When I arrived back at the hotel, AJ and Austin were hanging out in the lobby drinking coffee, and let's put it this way, neither of them looked especially joyful. I sighed and trudged wearily across the deep carpet toward them, expecting another argument or at least the cold shoulder from Austin.

I decided to sound as upbeat and breezy as humanly possible, even though I felt like crap. “What's happening?”

“Sit down, Jack,” AJ said, and I complied, dragging a seat from a nearby empty table and facing them both. Austin was looking at the floor rather than at me, which I took as a worrying sign that something bad was about to happen.

“Look, we've had another conversation with Sai and Ava,” AJ said. “We've all agreed that you didn't exactly cover yourself in glory in the way you handled the situation, but we also know how passionate you are about GenNext and that you only behaved the way you did because of it.”

“Like a spoiled brat,” Austin said, looking up and peering at me through his floppy fringe—and hang on, was that a sly smile I saw flicker across his mouth? “We all agreed—Sai, Ava and even me—that if you were so against Herald then we really couldn't go ahead with it. As good as it sounded, it's not worth fighting about, not with the Harriet interview right under our noses.
Ava reckons if Herald want to invest then other companies will too. Maybe someone we're all happy with next time. You know, I wasn't exactly delirious about the way it all went down, J, but when I thought about it, Ava's right—what we've done is amazing and it's only going to get better. Plus, we've already lost Ella; we can't lose you too.”

“That's . . . that's amazing,” I said, nodding humbly. “I mean, I never wanted us to fall out like that, Austin; it's too good, what we all have together. I just had this gut feeling, a bad feeling, do you know what I mean?”

Austin shrugged and nodded, and I wanted to jump up and down and run around the hotel lobby whooping and cheering, but I decided that might be a bit much so I just quietly thanked them both for understanding.

“And now we have to let Angela and Tyler know that we're turning down their very generous offer,” AJ said.

“God, I didn't even look at the paper,” I said. “Exactly how much have we turned down? Actually, don't tell me. I don't think I want to know.”

“No, you really don't,” AJ said, getting up and shaking his head.

“Actually, AJ, I'd like to call Angela myself, if that's OK with you,” I said. “She did give me her cell number.”

AJ looked more than slightly relieved. “Be my guest,” he said. “That was not a call I was looking forward to. Be nice, though—no gloating.”

“It's all cool, AJ. I'll be totally professional.”

AJ smiled mysteriously and rubbed his hands together. “Now, in other news, you'll need to pack your suitcases again in the morning.”

Austin and I looked at one another, confused. “What . . . why? We're not leaving till Sunday evening,” I said.

“You guys are leading a charmed life,” AJ went on, chuckling. “The Harriet interview is now taking place at The Four Seasons, and because you were both such a big hit at the launch party last night, her management team at CTA have reserved us some rooms there, just for tomorrow night. Boys, we've been upgraded.”

“What?!” Austin said, jumping up and slapping my back. “That's fricking amazing.”

That was when I felt the terrible pressure of the day evaporate from my body, hover above my head for a moment and then disappear into the atmosphere. Thank God!

Once AJ and Austin had gone up to their rooms, I sat quietly in the lobby for a moment, absentmindedly twirling Angela Linford's business card around in my hand and thinking about what I was going to say. Sure, I was going to get a huge amount of satisfaction from telling her and that smarmy Will Smith clone to get lost, but at the same time I wanted to stay true to my word and remain completely professional. Eventually I took a deep breath and dialed the number Angela had scribbled on the back of her card, and waited . . .

“Hello, Angela? It's Jack Penman. Yes, I'm well, thank you. Look, I'll cut to the chase. I just wanted to let you know as soon as possible that I've talked your offer over with my colleagues and after great consideration we've decided that GenNext is not ready to partner with Herald Media or anyone else at the present time . . . Yes, you're hearing me correctly . . . Yes, I'm clear on what that means and everything you said, but . . . No, I'm absolutely not crazy; I know exactly what I'm doing. I'm positive. We're fine on our own, more than fine, and we won't be taking this offer any further . . . Well, you can call Mr. Perera but he'll tell you the same. Look, I'm sorry, I have to go, Angela, we have this big interview to prepare for and . . . I'm sorry, I really do have to go.”

And that was it. The deed was done and the Herald Media offer was no more. To be honest, I'd been expecting more of an argument, maybe even raised voices, but that wasn't the case. Yes, it was clear that Angela Linford was angry, but there was a steely coldness about her that was more unsettling than anything, all the bright and phony enthusiasm of this morning blown away like smoke.

After I hung up, I took a couple of deep breaths, put my phone back in my pocket, then stood up and headed out of the lobby with a tight-lipped but relieved smile on my face. Now I felt better. Much, much better.

It didn't last long. That lovely little buzz of elation I experienced as I stepped inside the elevator and hit the button for the fourth floor was to be short-lived.

After a quick meeting in the corridor outside our rooms, we all agreed that room service and a rented movie was the order of the night. Austin and I were both still jet-lagged and knackered and knew we had to be razor sharp the following day for Harriet. Part of me wanted to ignore the restraints of my tired body and hit the town—I mean, we were only in LA for a few days; surely we should be making the most of it, right? In the end, common sense and a few stern words from AJ won out, and once I'd shut the door of my room and fallen back on to the exquisitely soft bed, I knew we'd made the right decision. In fact, I didn't even make it to dinner time—I was asleep before nine.

Sometime later I was jolted awake, sitting bolt upright and breathing hard. I'd had one of those dreams—you know the type—where your brain is throwing all kinds of weird, panic-inducing stuff at you. I was swimming in the middle of the ocean, completely alone, and diving down into the deep, dark water. Every time the water closed over my head, the panic would surge up and I'd be frantically turning, searching for the threat I was sure was just behind me . . . And then bam! A great white shark streaked through
the water toward me, its enormous mouth wide open, rows and rows of needle-sharp teeth ready to tear into my flesh . . .

I awoke from the nightmare with a heart rate like a marathon runner, drenched in sweat. I looked over at the clock radio next to my head; it was 1:47 a.m., and that was it, I was wide awake. I don't know why, but even as the memory of the dream slipped away and subsided, there was still this sense of panic hanging over me, as if something was very wrong but I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was.

I sipped some water and then fumbled about on the nightstand, locating my phone and holding it up to my face to check for messages—nothing. I decided to call home and speak to Mum, find out how she'd got on at the hospital the previous afternoon. OK, so she probably wouldn't have any results yet, but I just wanted to make sure she was all right. I was thousands of miles away and I knew that if I just heard her voice I'd feel better—calmer, somehow.

When she first answered, Mum's voice was a croaky whisper, but the second she realized it was me, it brightened.

“Jack! It's so good to hear your voice; your dad and I have been itching to know how it's all going and what you've been up to. When's the big interview?”

I was relieved to hear that familiar chatty quality in her tone. It was a happy sound and that gave me hope.
The news was going to be good, surely—or at least, not terrible.

“Never mind me, Mum, what happened at the hospital? How did you get on—did it hurt?” I wasn't entirely sure what the tests entailed, and if I'm honest, I didn't really want to know. I hated the thought of Mum going through anything that involved needles and pain.

“Oh, it was just, you know, the usual,” Mum said, as casually as if she'd just been queuing in the post office for a book of stamps. “Everything takes ages—you hang around to see a nurse, and then you wait even longer to see a doctor, and then you come away none the wiser; it's always the same. Then there's all that medical jargon; you need a degree just to understand what it is they're talking about half the time. My head was spinning by the time I got out of there.”

Mum was talking but she wasn't really saying anything that had any meaning. She chattered on a bit more about the friendly receptionist who'd checked her in and the uncomfortable chairs she and Dad had to sit on for ages, and it was then I noticed that her bright tone had a brittle edge to it—there was something slightly manic in her delivery. She was keeping something from me.

I sat up in bed. “Mum?”

“We spent almost an hour just waiting in the canteen,” she went on. “Actually, the food there's not bad, for a hospital canteen. Your dad had a jacket potato and—”

“MUM?” Now there was silence on the other end of the line and all my hope fell away. “What did the doctors say, Mum? What's happening? Please tell me.”

She sighed, long and slow. “We wanted to wait until you got home, Jack, that's why I didn't phone yesterday. We didn't see any point in ruining your trip because, well, what can you do anyway?”

My heart felt as though it was caught in my throat and I swallowed hard to push it back down. “It's fine, Mum, just tell me.”

When she spoke again, the brightness had disappeared completely. “I'll just . . . I'll just get . . .”

There was some muttering and rustling on the line and the next voice I heard was Dad's.

“Jack, your mum has breast cancer.” He spoke softly, like he was trying to comfort a child. “We suspected as much but now it's been confirmed. They got the results back practically right away as they didn't want to keep us hanging on.”

I bit my lip and gripped the phone tight. “Right.”

“It's in her left breast,” Dad went on. “She'll go in for an operation, probably the middle of next week, to remove all the bad stuff and then she'll have chemotherapy, probably six doses over the next few months, then they're talking about possible hormone treatment.” There was a brief pause, and then I heard him sigh. “This is going to be very hard for your mum, and it's going to be tough on us as a family, too. I'm sorry to do this over
the phone, son, I really am. As Mum said, we wanted to wait until you got home, but here you are calling home, so . . .”

For several seconds I was speechless. I felt as though I'd been pushed off the top of a very tall building and I was falling fast, the g-force pummeling my face, waiting for the inevitable crash.

Then Mum was back on the line, her voice more purposeful now.

“Jack, I'm going to beat this. It's operable, and the treatment these days is amazing, so I'm going to get through it, do you understand?”

I nodded as if she could see me, but the tears were falling so fast that I was scared to speak in case it all came tumbling out and she heard me crying. I really didn't want that. So I just whispered a “yes” and then listened to her talk about the inconvenience of going into hospital, about Dad's inability to grasp the most basic of culinary skills and the fact that she'd have to prepare and freeze dinners before she went so we didn't starve; I listened to her tell me that I'd have to download
Game of Thrones
and
Midsomer Murders
on her iPad for when she was recuperating because she still hadn't got the hang of how to do it, and I listened to her tell me how lucky she was to have the family around her that she did. See, that's my mum. Even at a time like this, there she was telling me how lucky she was.