Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
I’m still unpacking my case when there’s a knock at the front door. I quickly hang up the dress I’ve got in my hands and dash on through the living room of our new Airbnb, grinning like a schoolgirl as I fling the door open to find Tiff waiting there. I’ve been so excited to see her.
She looks absolutely amazing as usual with her cascade of scarlet hair in freshly styled waves, always her gothic diva self in catflicks that rival mine.
She was my icon at The Agency when I first started.
Creamgirl. The most hardcore of the hardcorers.
Now she’s one of the greatest friends there could ever be. To me, as well as Josh.
He’s waiting behind me as I wrap her in my arms, swaying from side to side as both me and Tiff squeal in delight.
And then it’s his turn. I feel the warmth as he holds her close, landing a kiss on her perfectly contoured cheek.
She’s such a plus sized dream, proud and self-assured. Confident to the max.
Pride, self-assurance and confidence were qualities that left me in the dust at Cannes airport. Thank fuck they are slowly being resurrected. Growing a little more solid every day.
“Hey, guys!” Tiff says, then lets out a nice as she steps past us and scouts a look around our new surroundings.
This Airbnb is much fancier than our secluded one-bed in the shadows.
We’re in a three-bed townhouse on the west side of the city now.
Still secluded, sure, but with infinitely more presence, with its incredible kitchen and huge living room.
It has high ceilings with intricate coving, and a huge fireplace as a centrepiece.
Hardly the modern, designer finesse of Belgravia, but it’s good. Really good.
“I’ll get us some drinks,” Josh says to his best friend, and heads on through to the kitchen. “Got your favourite white in, Tiff.”
“Thanks, babes!”
Tiff flops herself down on one of the huge plush sofas, and nods with approval. Her voice is loud enough that Josh will be able to hear her, too.
“Jesus, this is way, way better than the pics you sent from before! Fuck, you guys were holed up in a pigeon coop. I’d have barely fit my butt in that shower room, let alone the shower itself.”
“I didn’t mind being pigeon cooped up with Ells,” Josh says, poking his head through the door. “It was cosy.”
“Cosy?! Yeah, sure,” she replies. “Very, very cosy.”
I laugh. “You’re right about the shower room. It was tiny. No way we were fitting two of us in there for any shower play. Not a chance.”
I adore her cackle.
“Not surprised. Like I said, I doubt I’d have fitted the one of me in there. My clients wouldn’t have been too happy with my lack of personal hygiene, that’s for certain.” She winks. “Take that back, actually. Some of them would have been very happy about it. I could have charged extra.”
She laughs again and pats the seat next to her and I plonk my butt as close to hers as I can. We have another hug, and she whispers a so, so, so pleased you’re alright into my hair.
“So am I,” I tell her as I pull away. “I didn’t think I would be, honestly. All I felt was doom. I thought my days at The Agency were gone.”
Josh returns from the kitchen with a bottle of wine and three glasses.
“And what did I say, huh?” She looks right at me. “I said there was no way they’d let you go. No way! You’re a hardcorer. The best of the best. An asset.”
My cheeks burn in fresh awe of her. These days I have a weird sense of imposter syndrome when it comes to the power crew. My achievements feel so far away.
“I’ll never be the best of the best, Creamgirl. The competition is too damn stiff for that.”
“Whatever,” she says. “You need to check out your five stars. Get some of your horny mojo back.”
Josh hands us both a glass of wine. We raise a toast to us, and Tiff wants to know how we’re doing.
How we are, face to face, rather than over video call.
And I get it. I feel the same. It’s a whole other league of closeness in person.
We’ve spoken plenty on video and been pinging back on forth on messages constantly, but her presence was missing.
Her energy didn’t boom through the room and set us alight like it does now she’s here.
I tell her about the heartache of having the rug pulled out from under my feet, and the tumble of nightmares in the aftermath.
The guilt at Josh having to be with me through the crazy lows, holding my hand and ensuring me I was going to be ok.
That we’d make it through it. That he wouldn’t be going anywhere.
Josh jumps in during my recount. “The guilt you felt was totally unnecessary. We’d make it through anything, me and you. I’d always be there, no matter how rough it got.”
Tiff raises her eyebrows. “Lucky that, since it got pretty fucking rough there for you guys. Hats off to the lovely Connor Preston for carrying on his cuntish behaviour, though. Thank fuck he’s such a prick, chucking up waves of bullshit every other direction he turns.”
Another cackle, and she takes a swig of wine.
I nod, smiling. “I owe Katie Del Francis a thank you card. She can keep Connor for ever. Good luck to her. She’ll need it, even if she is a mean girl bitch herself.”
Tiff looks between me and Josh at that, one to the other. Her eyes are wide, mouth open.
“Katie Del Francis keeping Connor for ever? What the fuck? Have you two even been online today?”
Josh pulls a face. “Not really, no. In case you hadn’t noticed, we’ve been in the middle of a house move.”
She rolls her eyes.
“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock, but still. Everyone has time for a bit of scrolling, don’t they? And it must be the first thing that would come up on your feed.”
I’m as blank as Josh is. I’ve barely looked at my phone today, and haven’t been scrolling.
“Here, take a look,” she says, and pulls her own phone from her bag. Her new black nail extensions are covered in red leopard print, and look fucking epic. I compliment her on them, but she doesn’t even notice, just taps away on her screen.
Then she turns the phone to face us, one after the other.
The headline jumps out a mile off.
FEUD BETWEEN KATIE AND CONNOR BURNS FIERCE! SCREENSHOTS SHOW IT ALL!
“What the hell?” I say, and take the phone from her. “They were crazy besties a few days ago.”
“Not any longer,” she replies with a fierce cackle.
“Things can turn quick when you’re like the two biggest pricks in a school yard.
She hates his guts now. Says he’s a lying piece of shit who fucked a MUA in a toilet cubicle at one of his photoshoots.
Literally yesterday. While she was waiting for him in the makeup room. ”
“Were Connor and Katie even a couple?!” I ask. “I thought they were just hanging out together. Causing shit.”
“Who the fuck will ever know?” Tiff tops up her wine. “Katie’s claiming Connor gave her sweet nothings and promises of forever. That he said she was his soulmate. Musical geniuses, with an equal love of the party scene. Twin flames and all that jazz. What a load of crap.”
I scan the article, and that bit makes me laugh.
“Soulmates? Really? What a joke.”
“Yeah, totally.” She nods. “But it’s getting nasty. He denied it all when it first hit her feed, says they were just mates hanging out and she’s fucking delulu. But a few hours ago she released screenshots on her socials. Said he’s a cunting liar. With an asterisk in the place of a u, of course.”
“What the –”
“Yep. Screenshots. No getting out of that one, twat face.”
I keep scrolling, trying to take in the words onscreen, and there are so many links to articles, and thousands and thousands of comments.
“Katie’s right,” I say. “He is a cunting liar.”
Tiff clinks my wine glass. “Yeah, and the whole world knows it, because it’s in black and white, in about six thousand screenshots.
AND.” She pauses. “In one of them, he said the song about you meant nothing. Just an off the cuff flash of genius inspiration. You meant sweet fuck all compared to the love he had for her, apparently. Blah, blah, blah.”
Josh beams over at me. “We now owe a thank you card to the pair of them for being such fame hungry wankers. Keep it up, assholes.”
I can’t help myself to keep digging. The temptation is too strong.
I click through to Katie Del Francis’ screenshots, and sure enough, Connor is laying it on thick with her in his messages.
Holy shit, I get prickles up my arms as I read his cheap lines about how the hooker song meant nothing.
It was just a flash of brilliance, just as he’d always known it would be.
Katie was the one who really mattered and had the power to set his heart alight.
Utter, utter bullshit. What an ignorant tosser.
He wrecked my life with that vile song. Poor Connor, so heartbroken by a cheating hooker bitch like me. Jackass.
Lies. All lies.
But they are beginning to come to light now…
It amazes me to see his messages onscreen, in the style he always wrote them, with the same kind of emojis. It makes me cringe to think I bought into his bollocks for so many years.
“Thing is,” Tiff says, with a smirk. “He’s underestimated Katie, big time. Her fans are going WILD. They hate his guts.”
“Join the club.” My eyes go back to the screenshots, then click to Connor’s account instead.
Ouch. He’s calling Katie desperate. Says the messages were taken totally out of context, and it’s not his fault she was ‘obsessed’ by him. He meant musical soulmates, not physical ones.
I hand the phone to Josh and he sips his wine as he scrolls. I adore how he’s so calm, always so steady, but the corner of his lips turn up and he can’t hold back the sparkle of joy in his eyes.
“Karma comes to those who deserve it,” he says. “I’m firmly on team Katie.”
Tiff shrugs. “She’s a bitch herself by all accounts. And I mean, come on. Sharing screenshots is a bestie only activity. I just hope they both keep their social media battle at full throttle. Then we can get you back to Belgravia ASAP.”
Belgravia.
My heart dares to hope. Having Tiff here, with us, hanging out on a sofa with a bottle of wine is so familiar, it takes me right back there. To our place. Our home. To Josh’s cool emo cushions, and our black satin sheets, and his home gym. To having Tiff just a few floors away.
Fuck, I’d love to be there.
“You could come home now, you know,” Tiff says. “The paps have gone. Probably hounding the pair of them and the toilet fucking MUA now. You’re old news.”
I don’t want to tell her too much about what Orla said, since The Agency is so confidential. All I say is that patience is a virtue, but no doubt we’d be coming home.
I hold up crossed fingers. “Soon, I hope.”
She sighs. “Patience is a pain in the ass. Damnit, I was hoping I’d be packing your shit back into your suitcases with you and buggering off back home, where you belong.”
It’s Josh who takes the lead this time, reaching over to squeeze her knee.
“Take it easy, tiger. Just gotta be safe first. At this rate, Connor will have us home in no time.”
“Let’s toast to him, then.” Tiff raises her glass. “To Connor the cunt. Long may his stupid ass ego remain.”
“To Connor the cunt!”
It’s one of the best toasts I’ve ever made.