Chapter 9
NINE
‘This place is terrible for business.’
Charles glances at his friend Spencer, who just slumped onto the next chair. By business, he means the resale of whatever prescription pills he got hold of this week, so Charles doesn’t bother answering. He never had the authority nor the energy to stop Spencer from being a reckless idiot.
As for the place, it’s terrible, full stop.
A modern venue turned into a semblance of a ballroom by the son of Someone.
From the food to the decoration by way of the posturing guests, everything is overblown.
And it’s not just Charles and his borderline-phobic aversion for schmoozefests.
His friends Alex and Phil look desperate to escape as well.
They’re sitting across the round table with their girlfriends. Alex is dating his childhood sweetheart. Phil is dating the daughter of the CEO of the trading company he has his eye on for the future – with no certainty that it will bear nepotistic fruit.
George abandoned them to go mingle, and Elsy leapt up when she spotted a man she slept with once. She yanked him outside to ensure that her death threats from back then remain efficient enough to guarantee his silence.
‘How much longer?’ Spencer mumbles.
With a pleading moue, Alex gestures at the staff serving a selection of cakes. He’s addicted to cake. Besides, it would be inappropriate to desert their table before the meal is over, and he can’t afford any more blows to his reputation.
He’s the reason why they’re all here tonight. In seventeen years of friendship with Charles, George, Phil and Spencer, Alex has never shrunk away from an opportunity to assist them. So when he begged them to make an appearance at this talked-about event, they didn’t hesitate.
Alex hopes that being seen in the supportive company of Hampstead’s golden kids will help.
His family’s renown is struggling to recover from sordid stories about their pharmaceutical laboratory in Singapore.
Accusations of human trafficking have been dismissed in court, but the mudslinging – peppered with racism – continues, because reports of toddlers stored in aquariums remain the most entertaining gossip flying around.
And on top of those rumours, his cousin was recently recognised in a drag show in Soho.
Milton and Alice, who still held Alex in high esteem, have now instructed Charles to avoid appearances by his side.
They would go ballistic if they knew how publicly he’s standing by his friend tonight. He will start dreading a dinner conversation about it as soon as he escapes the Charland-silencing music playing in this room.
He resumes scrolling through Loris’ Instagram account under the table and screenshots a post from a few weeks back, to enlarge it and study every detail.
It’s an empyrean drawing of a stunning young woman with ebony hair and round lips.
Not that her mouth is visible in this specific piece, where her bare back is a canvas of lights and shadows.
But Charles has already seen her many times, in digital works, in pencil drawings and on the bridge framed inside the flat.
Whether she’s a real model or a product of Loris’ imagination, she’s his main source of inspiration.
‘You’re in my seat, Spencer.’
Elsy is stunning too in an emerald dress, her hair up, Audrey Hepburn style. Spencer taps his lap with a silly smile, and she whacks the back of his head before holding her hand out to Charles.
‘Let’s dance.’
‘Now?’
Only four couples are swaying on the dance floor. The hundred eyes fixed on them become x-rays the second Charles pictures himself there.
‘Or never. We’ll dash after Alex gets his chocolate fix, won’t we?’
Alex confirms, so Charles stands up, because his friends’ eyes are fixed on him. Who knows? His parents might disregard his blatant support to the Chén family if they hear that he shined with Elsy.
‘Could you act a tad annoyed when Spencer hits on me?’ she asks when they’re far enough away from the table.
‘The guys wouldn’t believe it bothers me.’
‘But he’d stop.’
‘I doubt it.’
Lying to his friends about his love life on a daily basis is already tedious, Charles refuses to overdo it.
He wraps his arms around Elsy’s waist and closes his eyes.
No one is watching. They’re alone in the world, dancing in his room. He’s happy to. He’s fine.
‘I had a thought earlier in class. We should take things up a notch and look at flats.’
Charles jumps and trips on his own foot. ‘Why? You want your family to start fantasising about the next step, meaning me getting down on one knee?’
‘No, but imagine the freedom for us!’
‘We can’t afford a decent place yet, based on… the little I know about it. I’m overpaid at the firm, but that’s only until July, and you won’t earn any—’
‘Come on, can’t you picture Catriona and Milton racing to the bank to help us?’
‘Yes, I can, and he’d win that race, so no.’ Charles pulls back, panic travelling through him like a bolt of lightning. ‘No way. It wouldn’t be freedom, but an extra leash. I can’t owe him my way out. I can’t! That’d be like moving into another cage and—’
‘Alright, Chips. Alright.’ Elsy forces a smile to belie their current energy to the audience. ‘I’m sorry I sprang that on you. But it’s part of our long-term plan, isn’t it? To make our lives easier.’
‘I don’t know.’
It won’t get easier. They can’t have it both ways.
They think they’re in control, but they will wake up one day stuck in the trap they set up themselves.
Elsy’s hand on his neck feels like a trap right now, and the sensation makes Charles’ breath catch.
She’s meant to be oxygen. She needs to remain oxygen or he will suffocate for good.
‘Forget about it,’ she whispers between kisses pressed below his ear. ‘Should we go ice-skating tomorrow night? You love ice—’
‘I’m fine, Els. And I can’t tomorrow.’
‘Plans with the lads?’
‘With myself… I’d like to write. I’ve had ideas lately.’
‘That’s great! Do you want to tell me more?’
‘No, not just yet.’
‘Whenever you’re ready!’
Elsy wouldn’t be of any help to bring true-Fred back to life. The Buchanans moved to London after his accident. She only knows the model heir from the portraits. The Ledwell urban legend.
As for his omission regarding his projects, Charles doesn’t feel one iota of guilt about it, determined to keep Loris away from his messy and draining world.
When they return to the table, George sets his evacuation plan in motion. The first phase entails the three of them ducking out through the garden, so they exit the room without a goodbye to anyone.
Charles waits until he’s sitting in the Uber – with George and Elsy wrangling over their destination – to open the message he received while he was dancing and suffocating.
20:12 WITH ONE L Some lines hit hard!
Loris has cropped a photo of a page of The Mind of Wonders around a quote:
‘I have always been frightened by my emotions, and how they would force me to evolve if I stopped repressing them. But when I am with Matthew, I am not scared to be moved. Near him, I am eager to face my lies and find my truths.’
20:33 I knew you’d end up happy to reread it.
20:34 WITH ONE L I wouldn’t go that far
20:34 WITH ONE L Still coming tomorrow? I’m going out in the evening but a couple of hours is better than nothing!
Charles bites down his first genuine smile of the day as a bright countdown goes off in his mind. A melodious ticking clock, bringing him closer to Loris’ flat, where nothing is messy. Where he has few lies to face and many truths to find.
***
Buying beers after work was a stress-free mission today. After all, Fred wouldn’t worry himself sick over the risk of being reported to their father.
On the other hand, posing isn’t as smooth of a process.
When Loris asked if he could sit closer, Charles didn’t think he meant four feet away nor that he would move the easel sideways.
His flick-looks aren’t subtle, and when Charles turns towards the window to escape them, he has to stare at his own reflection because it’s pitch dark outside.
He needs to keep Loris talking, in order to mind-travel safely without showing his true colours. So now that Loris is done sharing pub anecdotes, Charles unfolds his mental list of questions about the flat.
‘Why are your pillowcases mismatched on your sofa and your bed? It’s bugging me.’
‘Laziness?’ Loris puts his beer bottle back onto the floor behind his stool. ‘I made a mistake last time I changed the bedding. And no, I can’t just switch the pillows, they don’t have the same firmness.’
‘This is a boring explanation.’
‘That was a boring question.’
‘Next one, then! What’s with the concert ticket stuck on your fridge?’
Loris casts a look at the kitchenette. ‘It was a music festival, hosted by a town close to mine.’
‘And you went? Weren’t you four? If my maths is correct.’
‘It was family friendly.’
‘It must have made quite an impact.’
‘I don’t remember much. Impressions mostly. The blend of smells. The vibrations from the giant speakers. How I towered above the crowd from my dad’s shoulders. I pretended to be a Transformer.’
If there’s more to the story, Charles would rather hear it than invent it, but he’s reluctant to insist. Reluctant to bother Loris the way he would be bothered if someone failed to take the hint that a memory is personal.
‘My mum kept the tickets because it was our last outing, the three of us. Dad was already sick, and it worsened real quick after that.’
An icy shiver races up Charles’ spine. ‘Shit. I’m sorry I asked.’
‘Don’t be. It’s okay.’
‘It’s okay…?’
‘It’s like the festival. Impressions. I don’t really remember losing my dad. I guess I was too young to understand. Then I grew up and I grieved up in the process. When I grasped that my dad had died, I was used to it already. If that makes sense.’