‘Year before.’ Score five points for remembering. ‘It’s a fairly regular thing, a bit like a leap year.’
‘You didn’t think to ask me?’
I smiled and shook my head. ‘I actually did.’
‘But?’ He was so warm. How was he so warm? It was freezing on that balcony.
‘But you’re dating Ana.’
Never in six years had I known Dan to be lost for words. It must have been a full moon. Or a blue moon. Or the apocolypse.
‘I’m dating Ana,’ he repeated eventually. ‘So of course you wouldn’t have asked.’
‘That, and the last time I saw you, you fired me and then I stomped on your Monster Munch.’ I tipped my head to one side. ‘Not a euphemism.’
‘But you would have asked if I wasn’t?’
‘For the want of anyone else to ask, yes.’
‘Fuck off.’ He closed his eyes and smiled to himself. Smug git.
‘You’re such a charmer.’ Down on the dance floor I spotted Emelie twirl back onto the dance floor, thankfully sans Married Tim.
‘Leo,’ he held out his hands. ‘Obviously.’
‘Virgo,’ I replied. ‘Obviously.’
‘Most beautiful sign in the zodiac.’ Dan turned to look me straight in the eye for the first time that night. He tucked my hair behind my ear and left his hand resting on my cheek. ‘That colour really does suit you.’
‘Aren’t I the make-up artist?’ I tried to laugh at the cheesiness of his lines but all I could think about was that hand on my cheek. His skin was warm but mine was burning. ‘I’m the one who’s supposed to be worried about colours.’
‘I would have been a great make-up artist.’ He dropped his hand. Hmm, maybe I didn’t want him to move it after all.
‘It’s not like you’re a bad photographer.’ Wasn’t there a point to this conversation when we started it? I was definitely trying to get somewhere and I was certain that the original destination was never into Dan’s pants. ‘But make-up is probably the only other profession that would have given you access to more women.’
He squinted at me through a few unruly curls, smile vanishing. ‘You really do think I’m just a massive slag, don’t you?’
I wanted to say no, because he obviously wanted me to say no. But I really did. Even if I felt terrible about it. Ish.
‘I don’t think you’re a massive slag.’
Diplomacy was, after all, just socially acceptable lying.
‘Just a regular slag?’
‘I think you’ve “dated” a lot of models.’ I made air quotes around dated and got a foul look for my efforts. ‘And I think you have a very flirty attitude with the rest of the models.’
‘Like I said, Leo,’ he leaned forward again. ‘Can’t help that.’
‘I’m fairly certain that you can’t blame your star sign for your behaviour when you’re thirty.’ I tried to lean over the balcony beside him without flashing the entire dance floor below. ‘You are what you are.’
‘And what are you?’ Dan asked. ‘Aside from a borderline OCD totally judgemental cow?’
Right back on track. Awesome.
‘Aside from that?’
‘Aside from that.’
I watched Emelie dancing just a few feet below, laughing as she spun from man to man. It was a mystery to me how she hadn’t been fooled into shackling herself to someone before now. Maybe she really did love being single. Maybe there really was something to it.
‘I don’t know what I am. I’m good at my job. I’m a good peacekeeper, contrary to what’s happening right now. I know all the words to every Destiny’s Child song on record and a couple that aren’t.’ I rubbed my bare arms. Along with the lights, someone had forgotten to turn the heating on up here. ‘I want a family. I want a dog. I’m always cold. I can recite the entire script of Who Framed Roger Rabbit when I’ve had more than three whiskeys. What else do you want to know?’
‘Who Framed Roger Rabbit is a criminally underrated movie.’ He slipped off his jacket and placed it around my shoulders. ‘Better?’
It might have buried me and it was so warm from where it had been moulded to Dan’s body but, in all honesty, I wasn’t warmed through from the shared body heat so much as the act itself.
‘Better.’ I slid my arms through the sleeves and looked at my fingertips peeping out of the ends, before I let them dangle down. ‘Thanks.’
‘You’re welcome.’
The music that had been so loud downstairs was just an echo up on the balcony, a pulsing beat that counted down the seconds of silence between us.
‘That really is a beautiful picture,’ I said, just to say something. ‘In the gallery.’
‘I love what I do.’ He accepted the compliment with a graceful nod. ‘The magazine stuff pays but that’s what makes me tick.’
‘Yeah, I love doing the editorial stuff,’ I agreed. ‘I’m definitely going to start pursuing more of that side.’
Sydney. I had to convince him to take me to Sydney. ‘Which reminds me, the Sydney job.’
I was fully prepared to launch into all the reasons why he should take me to Australia with him when I felt his hand lightly brush my shoulder. First I looked at the hand, then at his face, back to the hand and again at the face. He wasn’t smiling any more. His lips were slightly parted, eyes trained on mine, as though he was waiting for permission. Not having the words to deal with this situation, I bit my lip and stayed completely still. Taking my silence as assent, his fingers slid down my bare skin until they reached my hand where they curled around mine. My other hand gripped the banister tightly while his other hand found its way onto my cheek. This was too weird. As his head leaned in towards mine, I took a tiny step backwards, breaking his hold on my hand, on my face. He pressed his hands to his sides, looking at the floor.
‘What are you doing?’ I asked once I’d made it a safe distance away.
‘Nothing,’ he replied, taking his own step backwards and banging his fist against the solid oak banister. ‘Just me, isn’t it? Can’t help myself.’
I pulled off his jacket and hurled it in his general direction before I turned and headed for the staircase. I couldn’t be there. I could do this. Whatever it was. Bye-bye Sydney, I thought as I clomped all the way down to the bottom. What an arsehole. And I thought I’d fucked things up by shouting at him. Not even nearly.
‘Hey, there you are,’ a worse-for-wear Emelie greeted me at the bottom of the stairs. Her eyes weren’t quite focused, but best friend telepathy made it quite clear that I wasn’t in the world’s best mood ever. ‘What’s wrong? Do you want to leave?’
‘I’ll tell you later and yes.’ I grabbed one last glass of champagne and sank it in a one-r. ‘I just need to use the loo.’
Em nodded and pointed down the hallway. ‘I’ll call a cab,’ she scrabbled around in her clutch for her phone. ‘We wouldn’t make it off the night bus alive dressed like this.’
‘That or we’d make a lot of money,’ I reasoned, trying to calm down. ‘But I don’t really want to have to put “high-class hooker” on my tax return this year.’
‘So 2009,’ Em agreed.
Promising myself she was joking, I scuttled off to the loo, desperate to be out of my beautiful dress and back in my pyjamas so I could go to bed, wake up tomorrow and pretend the evening had never happened. But, of course, that would have been too easy.
‘Raq – Rachel?’
Ana stared at me from the doorway of the toilets. It was strange to have someone more than a foot taller than you cowering in your presence. She was here? She’d been here the whole time Dan had been doing whatever it was he was doing? He was such a scumbag. As soon as he decides to commit to something, he has to bust a move on the closest single girl he can get his hands on. Actually, that was giving him too much credit; he probably wasn’t too arsed about the single thing.
‘OK, fine,’ I said more to myself than Ana. ‘I’m sorry about the other day; I was totally out of order. Now I really n
eed a wee. Can I get past, please?’
She pushed herself against the wall, creating enough space for a Chieftain tank and a double-decker bus to get through side by side.
‘Thanks,’ I muttered. ‘Dan’s upstairs.’
‘I know you’re just jealous,’ she said once I was a few feet away. ‘Of Dan and me. With your “poor me, I’ve been dumped” sob story.’
I stopped in my tracks and turned slowly.
‘Seriously? You think I’m jealous of you and Dan?’
The two girls standing at the sinks suddenly fell silent and began to wash their hands in slow motion.
‘I know you are,’ she pouted. ‘He’s always talking about you. You’re obsessed with him. It’s sad.’
‘He’s always talking about me and I’m the one that’s supposed to be obsessed with him?’
That one didn’t make sense, even for Ana.
‘Ana, Dan and I are friends,’ I explained slowly. Veronica had given me a pass once, I wouldn’t get a second one; I could not lose my temper. ‘We’ve been friends for years. The reason I lost my temper on Monday was because I’d just broken up with my boyfriend and I was a bit hungover. I’m sorry, I was out of order, but trust me, I am not obsessed with Dan.’
Although you did quite like it when he stroked your arm, you schlaaag, an unhelpful voice in my head reminded me.
‘Whatever,’ she dismissed, standing up straight. ‘It’s just kinda sad, don’t you think? You get dumped, fuck up your hair and then go after someone else’s boyfriend?’
Had to say, I much preferred her afraid.
‘Although I wouldn’t have thought you had it in you,’ Ana fluffed her long blonde hair so that it settled around her bare shoulders. Her skintight gold Hervé Léger bandage dress made my formally racy black number look like I’d borrowed it from the Queen. ‘You’re just so boring.’
‘Boring?’
Don’t hit her, don’t hit her, don’t hit her.
‘Dull as shit actually. No wonder your boyfriend dumped you. Probably shagging your nan for some excitement.’
I couldn’t hit her. I’d be fired. And she was from Bas Vegas after all, probably pretty handy in a fight. And those two cows who had been washing their hands longer than Lady Macbeth were hardly likely to help me out in a pinch.
‘Probably,’ I agreed, stretching my arm out towards her. I was pleased to see her flinch.
‘Tattoo, Raquel?’ She slipped back into her coquettish laugh. ‘Who do you think you are, Angelina Jolie?’
‘Hardly.’ I reached across her face and punched the fire alarm as hard as I could. The sirens and the sprinklers kicked in immediately. ‘I don’t steal other people’s men.’
Well, that cleared the loo pretty quickly. Ana ran out screaming, closely followed by the two witnesses. Emerging back onto the dance floor, I saw a full evacuation was in full flow. Hmm, maybe I should have thought about this one a bit more carefully.
‘Rachel, come on, it’s a fire alarm!’ Emelie grabbed my arm and pulled me towards the door. ‘This is insane. Did you see Ana? And Dan?’
‘Did you?’ I looked around, panicked. Sure enough, there was Ana sobbing on Dan’s shoulder and bleating at a man in an orange high-vis vest. Oh dear. Before I could leg it, she was pointing at me and shrieking hysterically. I caught Dan’s eye for a moment and realized he was trying not to laugh. I paused and felt a small smile on my lips. I had to stop drinking. And getting tattoos. And dying my hair red. Actually house arrest from now on might be for the best.
‘Excuse me, miss.’ An authoritative voice to the side of me got my attention as the sprinklers stopped. The ballroom was almost empty, save for me, Emelie, Dan, Ana and a couple of fire wardens. And a policeman. ‘This young lady tells me that you set the fire alarm off.’
‘She does?’ I was still watching Dan. The arsehole was enjoying this.
‘She did it,’ Ana wailed at the top of her voice, all pretence of a pretty accent vanished. From here on in, the only way was Essex. ‘She facking did it.’
I was delighted to see whoever had taken care of her make-up for the evening hadn’t bothered using waterproof formulas. She looked like a blonde, bedraggled Alice Cooper.
‘Aren’t you Anastasia Smith?’ Emelie stepped forward, looking oddly starstruck. ‘The model?’
‘Yes,’ she resumed character flawlessly, a beat too late. ‘I am.’
‘The overpaid, talentless old slag who is too stupid to remember someone’s name?’
Oh, Emelie.
‘Right, that’s it,’ Ana pushed Dan to one side and launched herself at Emelie. In the blink of a false eyelash, I was in the middle of the world’s sexiest catfight. It was just a shame we weren’t streaming it live, directly to Perez Hilton: we probably could have made some money. Ana lashed out with her acrylic claws but Em was right in there, punches swinging. All my money was on the redhead. As long as that redhead wasn’t me.
‘Bugger,’ I yelped, taking a swipe to the face and falling to my knees.
‘Friendly fire! Sorry!’ Em panted as the policeman pulled her off, Dan tackling Ana at the waist.
And so it was, piss wet through, the skirt of my dress all torn up and with my second black eye of the week, that I was carted off to the police station.
‘Em?’ I whispered, torn between hoping my mum would never find out about this and wishing they would turn the siren on.
‘Rachel?’
‘Do you think I can count this as breaking the law?’
She sighed and rested her wet head against the back seat.
‘Yeah, Rach.’ She held up her handcuffs to gesture towards mine. ‘I reckon you can.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
Matthew had been delighted when we’d called him from the police station but less amused when we called asking him to bring our ID in. The problem with tiny evening bags was that they didn’t really facilitate the carrying of passports. Not that I’d been planning on getting arrested.
‘When we put “break the law” we meant nick something,’ Matthew yawned in the taxi home. He really hadn’t needed to come down in his pyjamas but I was grateful regardless. ‘Break the speed limit. Put a cat in a dustbin. Not set the fire alarms off at The Savoy and punch a supermodel in the face.’
‘Emelie punched the supermodel in the face,’ I clarified. ‘And I didn’t set the fire alarms off at The Savoy. There are no witnesses, only Ana’s word against mine and, as the lovely police officer pointed out, she’s a bit mental. It was clearly an accident.’
Em sat silently between us. She stared straight ahead, dazed and confused.
‘I’m glad you’re taking the new you thing seriously,’ he replied. ‘But maybe, when you write the letter to Simon, you don’t do it in the blood of a sacrificial virgin, OK?’
‘OK.’ That sounded like a fair compromise. ‘Oh, and Dan tried to kiss me.’
‘What?’ Emelie snapped out of her catatonia and Matthew spat his coffee all down the back of the driver’s seat.
‘Sorry.’ He gave me a full Exorcist turn across the back seat of the cab. ‘Dan tried to kiss you? Before or after your Ocean’s Eleven impression?’
‘Before,’ I rubbed my shoulder, thinking about the shiver down my spine when he’d touched me. ‘We were talking and then he just leaned in a boom. Busted a move. And Ana reckons he thinks I’m obsessed with him?’
‘No one’s obsessed with him but himself,’ Matthew scoffed. ‘Hot or not, he’s a totally self-absorbed knob.’
‘I know,’ I nodded thoughtfully. ‘She says he talks about me all the time.’
‘Ew,’ Em chimed in, ‘that’s so weird. And, more importantly, was he a good kisser?’
‘I didn’t actually kiss him.’ And I absolutely did not regret that fact, I reminded myself. ‘I stopped him.’
‘Oh,’ she looked disappointed. ‘Oh!’ And then strangely happy.
‘That guy at the bar, he was looking for you.’ She shone the light of her phone into her clut
ch. ‘He said he went to the loo and when he came back you were gone. He gave me his number. Ashley or something?’
‘Asher,’ I said, taking the slip of paper. Wow. He actually had gone to the toilet. I’d walked away from a cute yoga instructor that told the truth to narrowly avoid kissing an arrogant photographer who was full of bullshit. ‘Wow.’
‘The miracle of the list.’ Em waved her hands around and made spooky noises. ‘Call him. Tomorrow. Or I will.’
‘Think you two have done enough communicating on my behalf,’ I said, resting my head on Emelie’s shoulder and watching the lights of London rush by. Strangely enough, I was quite tired. ‘I’ll call him.’
Thursday morning came around altogether too quickly. When I finally came to around eleven, I lay in bed for an hour, trying to work out just what exactly had come over me the night before. Just what had come over Dan. And whether or not I would ever work again. At least I had one welcome distraction. A Facebook friend request from Ethan. I lay looking at my phone, happily scanning through his photos and rejoicing in the lack of an apparent significant other. If it weren’t for the fact he openly specified that he was interested in women, I’d have been worried. As it was, I was just taking in all the different action poses. Ethan rock climbing. Ethan running in a race. Ethan walking his dog on a beach. Thank you Mark Zuckerberg, all is forgiven.
I tapped out a short message, enjoying the fluttering feeling in my stomach.
‘Hi Ethan, great to hear from you too. I can’t believe you’re in Canada, but I can absolutely believe you’re a music teacher. You were always the best in orchestra.’
Too cheesy? Nah, I rolled over onto my belly, I was leaving it in. It was true, and weren’t you supposed to flatter boys’ egos?
‘Unsurprisingly, my career didn’t take a musical route. I’m a make-up artist now, living in London. I share a flat with my best friend in Islington, it’s fun.’
Technically that was true. Yes, Emelie had her own place, but she hadn’t spent a night there since Simon had and ‘I live alone because my boyfriend abandoned me but my best friend is temporarily staying with me on suicide watch’ just didn’t have the same devil-may-care ring to it.