instinct was what secured her decision to keep the baby. Life as a single mother, with her trade being that of an artist promised more adventure than security, but Juliet was determined she could make it work.
She sat down on her fold out chair and reached for her flask of tea from her backpack. As she took in the market her eyes landed on the stall opposite which had a large, eye catching white cardboard sign saying 'Forgive Me?' with Charles sitting underneath it holding a bunch of red roses.
Persuasion
by Emma Bishop
Josie stood outside of an apartment door, staring at the numbers until she was fairly certain she would see them in her sleep. She raised her hand to knock, but let it fall to her side again as she lost her nerve for the fourth or fifth time since arriving. She had been standing there for at least twenty minutes, attempting to work up the courage to interrupt the individual inside. She and the apartment’s occupant had-as her friend was apt to say- history. Not history of a particularly pleasant type, either.
Josie took a deep breath and stood straighter, closing her eyes a moment and steeling herself. She lifted her hand and balled it into a tight fist, knocking on the door in quick, sharp raps before her mind could convince her to do otherwise. In the still summer air of the apartment building, she could hear stirring within. A muffled curse from the other side of the door told her that the object of her errand was at home.
Her heart felt as if it would leap out of her throat and land on the floor, it was hammering so hard. When she had taken on this responsibility, she had put it off for as long as possible. She had been avoiding the man in the apartment for months now, keeping to her part of town, her circles of friends, and leaving him to his own.
She knew from the few friends they still had in common-those who hadn’t precisely sided with one or the other-that he had poured out poisonous vitriol about her all over the city, to whoever would listen to him. Those of their friends who knew both of them either sympathized with him completely-and shunned Josie-or they understood the issue was complex, and rolled their eyes when they were told how evil Josie was, how manipulative.
She heard more movement on the other side of the door; another explosive curse and the sound of something tumbling to the floor. She grimaced, thinking that if he was hungover, it would be even worse to deal with him. She had almost convinced herself to run away, to let him think some child had decided to play a prank, when she heard the sound of the deadbolt being shot, the door chain being dragged along its track. The door opened with a pop and a heavy moan of the hinges. Josie straightened her spine again and met the unsteady gaze of the man who answered the door.
He was half a foot taller than her, with a heavy-boned frame that belied how slim he actually was. His big, dark eyes were bloodshot, his full lips already pressed into a firm, sulky line. His dark, choppy hair was a tangled mess around his face, adding to the impression that he had stumbled out of bed across the apartment to answer the door. “You,” he said, his voice hoarse.
He coughed dryly into one thick-palmed hand and leaned against the door jamb, waiting. Somehow, it was as if he had sobered up instantly the minute he recognized her. Josie knew the truth; he was never quite as drunk as he put on. The drunken act was something of a defensive mechanism for him-a way for him to say what he felt like without any real consequences.
“Yes, it’s me. Don’t close the door yet, Tobias.” He was always Tobias-never Toby. Toby was too friendly, too easygoing a name for the brooding man in front of her.
“What do you want?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. Josie could faintly smell the beer and whiskey on him, the lingering cigarette smell. He must have been at McNulty’s the night before-it was one of the few bars that allowed patrons to smoke inside anymore.
“Adam sent me,” she said, unconsciously mirroring his stance. She was about to cross her arms over her chest and caught herself, holding her arms at her sides with an effort. Just because he had decided to close himself off, didn’t mean she should do the same. She forced herself to relax as much as possible, to try and maintain a calm and collected demeanor. Tobias sighed and stepped back from the door, uncrossing his arms to open the door just wide enough to let her into the apartment.
Oddly, considering his disheveled appearance, Tobias’ apartment was generally very clean. Josie remembered Peter, Tobias’ best friend, telling her of the other man’s tendency to randomly clean everything in his home when he was troubled or frustrated. She reckoned that he had encountered a fair amount of frustration lately, to judge by the freshly-cleaned hardwood floors.
The apartment smelled of citrus, something woody, and a warm leather smell coming from a sofa sitting in the afternoon sunlight. Tobias turned his back on her and threw himself onto the couch, forgetting himself enough to pick up a pack of cigarettes and light one. Josie knew he didn’t typically smoke in his apartment, and wondered why he decided to do it right now. She sat down in a chair across from him, composing herself for the argument she knew was certain to come about by what she had come to do.
“Adam needs you to make an appearance at the anniversary party for the label,” she said. She told herself it was best to get it out of the way as quickly as possible. The sooner he had put up his objections, the faster she would be able to counter them and then she could be on her way.
“Just why isn’t Adam here telling me that?” Tobias asked, taking a long drag of his cigarette. He flicked an ash into a nearby ashtray, fixing a steady look on her face. Josie shrugged.
“He told me to come. Why he isn’t here is apparently none of my business.” She had asked Adam the same thing when he had given her the task of convincing Tobias to “let bygones be bygones.” Ever since his band had broken up, he had snubbed the label that had made his career, taking care of all his business by way of an attorney. Josie had a sneaking suspicion that Adam had known that Tobias would refuse to even hear him out, where the man would at least have the courtesy to let her in and the curiosity to hear what she had come for.
“Ah, so he strong-armed you into doing the business for him,” Tobias observed, smiling in a sardonic way over his cigarette. Josie shrugged.
“He didn’t give me a lot of options,” she conceded. Adam had held up a simple reward and an even simpler threat: if she did the errand, he would continue helping her work her way through the labyrinth of the music industry, to the possibility of making it as an artist of some standing in the entertainment industry. If she refused, he would simply withdraw his support of the label signing her. For a woman who had gotten involved in the industry because she wanted to produce her own records, it was a powerful incentive.
“Why does Adam need me at the anniversary party?” Tobias asked. Josie wondered at the fact that his questions seemed so far to be reasonable. She had expected him to say no outright.
“Because of the bad press surrounding the band’s breakup. He’s got Nick’s album coming out next month and he wants everyone to look happy and friendly for the press.” It was pointless to tell Tobias that the bad press had been at least partly his own fault; when the band had broken up, when Nick had announced that he was pursuing a solo career, Tobias had vocally expressed his disappointment and resentment to any journalist who asked about the situation. It had been a struggle-some of the other members of the band were working on solo efforts, or had joined other groups. Tobias had a plenitude of material, but he had told the label repeatedly that he would sooner be found in breach of contract than let them have their hands on it.
The trouble was precisely that; the dissolution of the contract had been a messy business. The label hadn’t wanted the band to break up at all, had even pointed out that Nick’s solo career presented no real difficulties with the band continuing. But Tobias had taken exception to Nick’s desire to put out music of his own, and refused to work with the guitarist. He had blamed Josie for encouraging Nick to work on his own material, for her work in getting the label’s attention drawn to his band mate’s music.
“So I’m supposed to show up and play nice so everyone thinks we’re all good and those few fans who are boycotting him for my sake will go out and buy the record.” Tobias took another drag of his cigarette and laughed shortly. Josie sat back, making herself relax in the chair.
