Nudge 10 The La La Lounge
The La La Lounge
When everyone said that the La La Lounge was fancy, they should have been more specific.
There’s regular fancy and then there’s the kind of place that shames your bank balance the second you walk through the door.
The La La Lounge is the latter, with a smattering of general insecurity thrown in for good measure.
The staff nabbed my tone-lowering parka the moment I stepped through the door.
I tried to hang on to it, but they just gave me a pointed look and told me they’d take it to the cloakroom.
What they didn’t know, however, is just how naked I feel without it draped around me, so I’ve been cowering in the corner ever since.
Even adorned in the dress of my dreams, I can’t help but feel like I stick out.
I don’t have the regular clientele’s faces, or their surgeons, and the heels Anika gave me are several inches taller than what I’m used to walking in.
I’m praying that the two warm-up shots I took at home kick in any moment now.
‘There you are,’ Aiden bellows across the room as he strides towards me.
He’s stood tall with a fresh trim, dressed in a simple black suit with dark-grey detailing and a white shirt.
The pattern is subtle but catches the light in a way that lets you know he’s not basic.
There’s not a crease in sight or an ill-fitted seam, sleeve hugging his forearm as he moves to adjust his cufflink.
He looks like someone who belongs on the front of a magazine and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to stop my jaw from dropping to the floor.
I am almost embarrassed, although, judging by his own roaming eyes, I’m not the only one having a problem with staring.
He looks me over from top to toe with the kind of intensity that makes me want to shrivel up inside this tiny, shiny sheath of a dress.
It lasts a second too long. Long enough for me to catch the shift in his breath, and for him to see me do it.
‘You look like a disco ball,’ he manages to say, regaining composure.
‘And you look like a petrol-soaked penguin,’ I retort.
He chuckles heartily at the comment, shaking his head. Issues aside, game respects game.
‘Evie bought this for me, actually. A couple of years ago,’ he says, throwing in a cheeky little spin for good measure. ‘I used to show up to events in chinos and shirts, and, once the invites got more regular, she decided that wasn’t good enough.’
‘She got me this dress too,’ I tell him.
‘She’s a pretty generous boss. Not bad for just an influencer job, eh?’
His eyes glint as he says it, delighting in the way I squirm at his reference to that first day together.
‘I didn’t mean it,’ I say.
‘I know, Maddy. It’s just fun to bring up – it gets you all flustered,’ he teases. ‘Right, let’s go. I hope you’re thirsty.’
He ventures further into the heated room, beckoning me to follow, and we twist and turn, the music swelling the closer we get to the core.
We weave our way through society’s flashiest patrons, from reality stars to cover models to social media veterans.
Each face is both aloof and yet so strangely familiar, and each stare looks straight past us, focused on swilling drinks and taking selfies.
It’s enough to make anyone feel smaller than dust, and yet Aiden seems entirely impervious to it all.
He ploughs through the dance floor at lightning speed with no regard for his surroundings, only turning back every so often to check that I am still following.
Just when I become accustomed to the crowd, he breaks us from routine, taking a quick and sharp left turn.
We arrive at a steel door, hidden in the darkness in the corner of the bar.
‘We’re not staying here?’ I shout above the music.
‘There’s no way we can discuss drinks in this noise.’
He disappears through the door, prompting me to follow suit as we leave the crowd of prim partygoers behind.
The sound mutes instantly, the hustle and bustle of the club a distant memory as we ascend the stairs.
All I can hear is the sharp, tinny click of my heels against the steel steps, bouncing off the walls and echoing around us.
We spiral up one flight, two flights and finally a third, winding up at a door much like the one we just entered.
Aiden knocks lightly, smoothing his jacket, before grinning at the man who swings the door open and welcomes us in with wide, stretching arms.
‘Aiden!’
‘Lucien! Nice to see you again!’ Aiden brings the man in for a hug. ‘This is Maddy, the one Evie emailed about. We’re excited to see what you’ve got in store for us!’
Lucien is the walking definition of a silver fox, with an effortlessly suave demeanour. Even in his tailored jeans and plain T-shirt, he emits nothing but class.
‘Hi! Yes, I’m Maddison,’ I say, extending my hand and giving Aiden a reproachful glare.
‘Nice to meet you, Maddison. I’m Lucien, friend of Evie’s. I hear you’re planning her Summer Splash this year?’ He continues as I nod, ‘Brilliant. Never liked the old guy anyway. Shall we get started? Lucie’s already inside.’ He disappears through the door, beckoning us to follow.
‘Their names are Lucie and Lucien?’ I ask Aiden before we head inside, his smile confirming it to be true.
‘It’s great, right? I’m convinced they planned it,’ he whispers. ‘Her and Evie go way back . . . Something about a trip to France and a shoddy dive bar.’
The room is large but abnormally sparse, its main feature being a long, drawn-out table.
It stands proud in the centre, laden with crystal glasses of every shape and size imaginable.
A young woman stands behind it, her hair flowing down to her waist as it escapes her increasingly unravelled chignon.
Lucie’s smile matches Lucien’s in warmth, but boasts a deeper, richer excitement as she hurries us over to the seats in front of her.
‘What you got for us then? Evie said she sent concepts,’ Aiden asks, elbows sinking into the silk tablecloth.
‘That she did, and of course they were as Evie as ever.’ The three of them chuckle lightly.
Something’s shifted in Aiden – from the smile to the tone, he exudes something one might go as far as to call charm.
He’s a natural among them – a full-fledged part of this world, cementing me as the only true outsider here.
I can feel my chest plunging as I stand and observe, desperate to hide my hands in sleeves this dress is so dearly missing.
I’m smiling – of course I am – it’s all I can do.
But at this point my anxiety is surely palpable.
It should not be this hard to make nice with people I’ve never met before.
I’m not some shy kid at school; I am a full-blown adult in a job who has earned the right to be here.
If Pippa was in my place, she’d already be exchanging numbers and swapping diaries to plan holidays abroad.
But Pippa’s not ‘boring’.
Pippa’s not ‘predictable’.
‘Maddison?’ Aiden whispers, his eyes set on mine.
They burrow deeper, searching my face for some sign of worry. It’s just a look, but it’s enough to tell me that I’m safe. Enough to instantly quell the shake at the pit of my stomach. I nod back, my smile gaining some semblance of sincerity as I slide back the chair and start to get settled.
‘So, cocktails,’ I say, my breath steadying.
Aiden cheers. ‘Yeah, Maddy here is raring to go! Let’s get stuck in, shall we? Can’t wait to see what you’ve done.’
Our eager entertainers jump straight into action, pulling bottle after bottle out from under the counter.
They work in tandem, reaching and diving for spirits, and generously pouring into the shakers with glittering smiles on their face.
I can’t help but watch the way that they move, the way they dance with such unbridled joy in their craft.
The ice clangs against the metal as Lucie’s shaking comes to an end.
She flicks the lid off, bringing a glass into play.
A vivid electric-blue concoction emerges from the tin, flowing into the cup effortlessly before meeting its spiralled-lemon-peel garnish. It’s mesmerising.
‘We call this the “Evie Peasy Lemon Squeezy”,’ Lucien says as the drinks are placed in front of us.
‘It’s an iced tea, mixed with gin, tequila and citrus vodka, with a dash of blue curacao, triple sec and a lemon garnish to finish.
You’ll find the mildness of the tea balances the harsher citrus flavours.
Would taste beautiful on a hot summer’s day. ’
Lucien retrieves a rose-gold bucket from below, placing it gently between me and my cocky co-worker.
‘This one’s a little strong, and the first of many, so please don’t shy away from the spit bucket,’ Lucie says.
Aiden wastes no time rolling his eyes and laughing at its presence, before sliding it directly in front of me and throwing a wink at Lucie, who fondly shakes her head back at him.
‘Now, when have I ever needed one of those?’ he asks brashly, bravado on the maximum setting. ‘Maddy, on the other hand, may need a couple.’
‘A couple of spit buckets?’ I roll my eyes too, shaking my head at another one of Aiden’s bad jokes. But as I stare at him, he’s calm and exceptionally genuine. He’s not kidding.
‘Seriously?’ I whisper.
He stares back at me, unfazed. ‘I assume you’re still in “work mode” so you can make all your notes.’
My cheeks flush with heat. Gus was right – I am a sensible, predictable person.
Of course I’m in work mode – this is for work .
. . Am I wrong to take my job seriously?
Why does everyone else just know how to chill – when to be serious and when to let loose?
Did I skip a class? Did I decide to care too much?
Or am I just incredibly and inherently uncool?
God, I hate him and the way that he is completely right.
I can’t let him be right. I can’t let any of them be right. Not today and not ever again.
I stare him dead in the eye, lifting my glass in a mock salute before downing its contents. It stings as it attacks the back of my throat, the citrus coming at full throttle, but I swallow the cough down with the liquid.
‘Damn, Maddy,’ Aiden says, shock not going unnoticed by me. ‘Remember, this is only drink number one.’
‘You’re right. We have way more to get through and you’re slowing us down,’ I retort, eyebrow raised in challenge.
Lucie and Lucien cheer in encouragement, one whisking away my empty glass and the other prepping ingredients for drink two. A blender whirls to life in the background, but I can’t focus on anything but Aiden as he lifts his glass to his lips and takes me up on my challenge.
‘You can’t outdrink me,’ he says, slamming the empty glass on the table.
It’s a dare. Strong and threatening, but inexplicably alluring.
Reason dictates I should leave it – ignore him just like I did every time he tried to bring me down to his level at school. But this feels different – stronger and burning hot.
We lock eyes.
‘Challenge accepted.’