Chapter 8
JADE
Wincing at the twinge of pain in my temple, I groggily sit up in bed. I feel like I’ve drunk three bottles of wine and a whisky chaser. I don’t remember getting home. And there was no alcohol involved at all last night. Only Sebastian. Images float into my mind of him, of what we did.
Oh my god. He was amazing. Heat infuses my cheeks as I replay the night from beginning to its very happy ending, lingering on certain details.
But is that all I get? It seems cruel to deny me now that I’ve had a taste of devilish fun. I’d quite like to see him again. Maybe we could ...
Get a grip, Jade! You liked his body and what his talented fingers were doing to you, that’s all.
I groan to myself—his talented fingers.
But I shouldn’t romanticise Sebastian and his superior sex skills. He’s a minor-league devil. He’s probably already racked up three more conquests while I’ve been lying here. On that note, I suppose I need to get ready to go to the airport for my trip ...
With a sigh, I throw back the bedcovers and lift out a leg. My bare foot hits something soft and fluffy. Glancing down, I see an unfamiliar bright pink sheepskin rug. Weird. I don’t have a bedside rug.
My eyes slide to the right and widen when they land on a mushroom-shaped lamp.
What the fuck? Where’s my cool toucan lamp I bought on eBay?
And what the hell is that ancient plastic contraption underneath that’s displaying 7:05 as large red digital numbers?
And beeping annoyingly. I punch a few of the buttons on top, and thankfully, it shuts up.
Something doesn’t feel right. Slowly, I swivel my head and take in the rest of the room.
It’s the same size and shape as my bedroom, with its plain white walls and plastered ceiling.
The double bed is in the same position. But the decor has been completely swapped out.
The curtains are bright pink to match the fluffy rug.
My blue striped duvet is now one covered with pink, yellow, and green geometric shapes.
And there are posters stuck all over the walls featuring skinny pouting young men in pastel suits.
I blink. Who are all these guys? Why are they wearing make-up, and why do they have such weird sticking-up hair?
My gut tightens as unease flows through me. Where the hell am I? Some retro one-star hotel in Blackpool?
Cursing Sebastian for sending me somewhere like this, I fling back the bedcovers and get a shock when I see I’m wearing neon-pink shortie pyjamas. And my fingers and toenails match!
Before I can collect my senses, there’s a soft knock on the door, and a girl pokes her head in. She’s pretty, but I recoil from the scary amount of turquoise eyeshadow on her lids and the stripes of pink blusher on her cheeks.
‘Oh goodie, you’re awake. I didn’t think you’d sleep in on your first day,’ she chirps, bouncing into the room.
She’s wearing denim dungarees with a long-sleeved black-and-green striped top underneath.
Her shoulder-length blonde hair puffs up around her head in strange crimped waves, like she’s stuck a fork in a toaster.
I barely manage to restrain myself from yelling ‘Who the fuck are you?’ as she throws open the curtains. Not that it lets in any more light since they’re gauze.
Just go along with it for now, I tell myself, taking a deep breath. Ask her some questions, and you’ll get to the bottom of this soon enough.
‘Um, first day? For what exactly?’
The girl turns around from the window with an incredulous expression. She places her hands on her slim hips and stares at me. Then she laughs. It’s an infectious chuckle that actually has me smiling too. ‘You’re joking! How could you forget it’s your first day at PopTrax?’
‘Riiight, PopTrax,’ I reply with a nod, not having a clue what that is. ‘I was just testing you, of course.’
The girl shakes her head at me. ‘You’re such a tease, Jadey lady.’
Jadey lady? Hmm, not sure I like that nickname.
She taps a finger on her chin. ‘So what are you going to wear today? You want to make a good first impression.’
‘Ah, why don’t you choose something for me?’ I suggest. Her face brightens behind her clownish make-up.
‘Oooh, can I? What fun!’ She throws open the wardrobe and rifles through a selection of multicoloured outfits that I wouldn’t be caught dead in.
My heart sinks. Oh dear god, I know what this is.
Sebastian’s sent me to a retro theme park.
For a whole fucking week. I’m going to kill him!
Correction: I’m going to try to kiss him, but then I’m going to kill him!
‘This will do perfectly.’ The girl, who I assume is one of the actors who works here, pulls out a short layered pink-and-black polka-dot skirt.
Coming over to the dresser next to the bed, she yanks open a drawer.
There’s an equally colourful selection of clothing in there.
‘You can wear it with these.’ She pulls out a pair of neon-pink tights, a white tank top, and an oversized neon-pink net top gathered into a side knot.
I gulp. It’s all so garish. If I’m going to work in some retro theme park today, I want to wear my usual jeans and black T-shirt ensemble.
But the only black in this outfit are the polka dots.
Spying a darker edge amongst the riot of colour in the drawer, I tug out a pair of black jeans.
Underneath is a black net top I can put over the white tank.
‘I’ll wear these,’ I announce triumphantly.
The girl peers at the monochrome clothes I’m holding, then at me, looking worried. ‘It’s a bit dull. PopTrax is a hip music magazine. You might not look cool enough.’ She glances at the pastel-suited guys on my wall, as if to indicate that’s the standard I should be aiming for.
‘They’ll just have to take me as they find me,’ I say firmly.
I head to the bathroom to shower, simmering with annoyance. A fake fucking music magazine. Seriously? I expected better than this after jerking off a devil. If I ever run into Sebastian Burns again, he’s got a lot of explaining to do!