Chapter 3
Sam swivelled in his seat and stared at the door though he didn’t have far to look. They consigned the front rows to the award nominees. To the side sat family. Friends occupied the back. Even his and Bobby’s previous ranks didn’t take them more than five rows in.
“You’ll get a crook neck.”
Bobby’s complaint didn’t fool Sam. “I can tell you’re worried.”
“Not…worried. There may be many reasons Chantelle is late.”
“It’s not like her.”
Minute twitches in Bobby’s expression revealed his agreement. He held his phone in his open palm but at once reached a decision, finger flying over the screen. “I’ve sent her a text.”
Two minutes went by. Five. Sam realised he was chewing on his lower lip, stopped. The phone buzzed in Bobby’s hand; he had it on silent.
Sam gazed ahead, trying
