Contrite ✓

Chapter 15.

With a shake of my head, I pressed the buttons and took a sip of the watery beer as I waited for the call to connect.

"Hello?" Mum's voice sounded worried.

"Hi, Mum. It's me."

"Oh, Harry! I wondered when you'd call. What is this number?" I could practically hear the frown on her face.

"Um, I was kind of robbed," I said, wincing. She was going to freak out.

The line went dead quiet for a couple of seconds before I heard her sharp intake of air. "What?" she yelled.

"Calm down, Mum. It's okay. I went to the police and they helped me with everything."

"Do not tell me to calm down after you tell me you've been robbed! Are you okay? What did they take?"

Everything. Phone, passport, money, credit card. . . my dignity. "Just my phone. Don't worry, I got a new one so it's no big deal, yeah?"

I heard her sniff and cursed inwardly. I hated to be the reason for my mum's tears. She had been sad enough as it was when I told her I was moving across the planet. "Don't cry. I'm alright, I promise," I said softly.

"I know, Harry, I know. I just miss you, is all. I wish I could be there to help you. Do you need me to send some money?"

"No, no. It's fine, you don't have to do that."

"Okay, give me a ring if you change your mind. You know I'll always have your back, sweetie," she said.

"Of course. I have to go but I'll talk to you later. Please don't mention anything about this to Ella if you see her. I want to tell her myself." She could never know — I didn't want her to worry about me or think I failed.

"Sure, honey, if that's what you want."

I nodded before I remembered I was on the phone. "Yes. I'll give you a ring in the next few days. Love you, Mum. Take care."

"Love you, too, Harry."

I hung up and secured the phone in my front pocket. I didn't need this to be stolen, too. Gulping down more beer, I let out a sigh. Now what?

I had come here to get my music out. My plan had been to start visiting producers in the morning after I had settled in but now I had no where to go,and almost no money. I managed to keep some, which had been hidden in my backpack but it wasn't much.

The bartender raised an eyebrow as he heard my low groan. "Having a bad day, son?"

"You could say that," I muttered.

He poured two shot glasses with amber coloured liquid, sliding one towards me. "On the house," he said and held up a glass for himself.

"Cheers," I said and tilted it back, letting the strong taste burn my throat. "You happen to know any place a guy can crash, like for free?"

He barked out a laugh. "This is New York, nothing here is for free."

"Fuck," I said lowly, shocked to feel I was on the verge of tears. Even if Mum gave me money, how would I get home without a passport?

The stool beside me was suddenly being pulled out and someone sat down. Irritated, I glanced over to the guy, not getting why he felt the need to sit right next to me when the whole bar was vacant.

He had pitch black hair and pale skin, dressed in black jeans and a baseball jacket. There was something about him that made me feel slightly uneasy, the way he held himself was over-confident and almost too relaxed.

The bartender turned to face him with a grin. "Slater, where the hell have you been?"

Slater shot a cool grin back and ruffled a hand through his hair. "Around. Hand be a beer, will ya?" he said and I gaped when I heard his British accent.

"You from England, too?" I blurted.

Slater slowly turned his head, and leaned it to the side as he inspected me. "Yeah, Liverpool. What about you?" he said, a curious look in his blue eyes.

"Holmes Chapel. It's in Cheshire."

"I think I've heard of it, yeah," he said and nodded to the bartender who placed a beer in front of him.

Maybe this dude could help me out. We were from the same country after all. I picked at my nails, not completely comfortable with asking him. I didn't even know him.

"I'm Cole, Cole Slater." He held a tattooed hand out which I took.

"Harry Styles."

"I couldn't help but overhear you ask Frank here about a place to crash," he said and waved a hand in the bartender's direction.

"Um, yeah. I fucked up. Got mugged and lost all my money."

"Man, that sucks. When did you get to New York?" Cole asked.

"A few hours ago."

Cole laughed, making me frown. "I'm sorry, but that really fucking sucks." He drank some beer and didn't say anything for a while. I did the same, wondering how he ended up here.

"Why'd you come in the first place? Holmes Chapel to this, it's quite the difference."

"I want to get in the music business," I said and gestured at my guitar case.

"You sing?" Cole sounded genuinely surprised, but it didn't bother me. I was used to getting that reaction.

"Yeah. Also write songs."

"Hell, that's brilliant. Honest," he grinned.

"It would've been. Not so much now. I didn't come to New York to be a street musician," I muttered and chugged down the rest of my disgusting beer.

Cole chuckled. "Don't be a downer, man."

"Piss off. I have no idea what to do, I'm stuck here without any money or a passport. How the fuck would you be feeling if it happened to you?"

He narrowed his eyes at me, a dark shadow passing through them. "I think I might be able to help you."

I scowled and couldn't help feel something didn't add up with him. He seemed nice enough but appearances could truly be deceiving. We had just met and yet here he was offering me a way out from this mess.

Cole was my only shot at staying though which really gave me no choice. "Yeah? How's so?" I asked, hoping I wouldn't come to regret it later.

A slow smile crept across his face. "I know a place where you can stay. And it's your lucky day, Harry Styles, because I have loads of contacts in the music business."