Chapter 16
16
On top of being a commoner, a pauper and the owner of an extra-tacky pair of D cups, I am an eternal pessimist, so I wasn’t expecting to get through the door at Eros tonight.
So it was no shock to me when the bouncer’s eyes narrowed as I approached the entrance. Even with Faye’s assurances that her brother would let me in, I still wasn’t expecting to make it past the velvet rope.
And yet here I am, walking through the club, surrounded by beautiful people who look like they’ve been picked straight off their busy Instagram grids. It’s a weird feeling, like I’ve somehow wandered on to the set of a movie, but I’m trying my best to blend in.
To play it safe, I opted for an outfit that screams ‘I totally belong here, honest’. A sleek black jumpsuit with a plunging neckline (I know, not demure, not mindful at all…) paired with a tailored leather jacket that’s warm enough to survive the chilly January weather outside. My boots are designer knock-offs, but they’re the best ones you can get without actually being designer, and my hair is styled in loose waves that I’m hoping read as effortlessly cool and chic. It is just hair, though, so who knows if I’m pulling it off.
You don’t have to look far to spot a famous face – and while it could be a good idea to take a famous person to the wedding (assuming I could talk one into it – doubtful) because they could totally overshadow the whole thing, it’s also possible that Seph and Chester might think it’s cool, like it would give them street cred, even as a novelty, so that might backfire. I need someone more like them, some old-money A-hole. Someone well off, someone full of it, someone who will compete with them and annoy them and make them feel bad about themselves so that they can see how it feels. I don’t know how I’m going to find someone like that, but I’m going to try.
I make my way to the bar, feeling a little out of place as I order a drink.
‘One porno martini, please,’ I say, reading the edgy name from the menu.
The barman looks at me like he’s sizing me up, but then nods and gets to work.
A moment later, he slides the drink over and says, ‘That’ll be ￡32.’
It’s funny, that it’s called a porno, because I really feel like I’m getting fucked. ￡32 for one drink? Wild.
I take a sip (it’s nice, but ￡32, come on!) as I wander around the club, trying to look like I belong here. But as I weave through the crowd, it quickly becomes apparent that I’m invisible. No one makes eye contact, no one smiles or nods in my direction. It’s like they can all sense that I’m not one of them, like rich people have some kind of sixth sense for spotting impostors. Which is ironic, really, because I feel like a ghost right now.
As I’m wondering how the hell I’m going to pick someone out and actually get them to talk to me – and that’s before I convince them to be my wedding date – I feel a hand on my arm.
‘Hey, you,’ a voice says, and I spin around, my heart leaping at the possibility of a man approaching me. But then I realise it’s someone I know.
‘Oh my gosh, Fergus, hello,’ I say, trying not to sound too disappointed.
Fergus leans in and gives me a kiss on the cheek.
‘It’s been forever, Lana. How are you?’ he asks.
I smile, a little awkwardly.
‘I’m doing great. How about you?’ I ask.
‘I’m good, I’m good,’ he says, nodding. ‘Well, apart from a knee injury that put an end to the old ruggers career. Now I just play for fun, but I’m doing all right. It’s so good to see you. Can I buy you another drink when you’re finished with that one?’
I glance at my half-empty glass (ha! I told you I was a pessimist), and I know that I can’t really afford to keep up with the drink prices here. ‘Sure, thanks. That would be great.’
It’s worth pointing out, at this point, how I know Fergus, because it explains why I’m feeling slightly awkward. Fergus is Seph’s ex-boyfriend.
‘Let’s grab a seat, catch up a bit,’ Fergus suggests, and I follow him to a quiet corner where we can talk.
We settle into a plush, dimly lit booth.
‘How’s the family?’ he asks.
‘They’re all fine,’ I reply, not really wanting to dive into that particular topic.
‘Good, good,’ he says, nodding again. There’s a pause, and then he looks at me with a smile. ‘You’re looking good, Lana. I always really liked you, you know? You were different from the rest of your family.’
I laugh, though there’s an edge to it.
‘I know I’m different. But people who know my family don’t usually think that’s a good thing,’ I point out.
Fergus shakes his head, his expression softening.
‘No, I mean it as a compliment. You’re… normal,’ he tells me. Erm, is that a compliment? ‘And in our circle, that’s rare. Most of the people we grew up with are a bit mental, honestly.’
I can’t help but laugh at that.
‘Yeah, I guess they are,’ I reply.
We chat for a while longer, exchanging the usual pleasantries and carefully reminiscing about the old days, but avoiding the topic of my sister, of course. Fergus is easy to talk to, and it feels good to be around someone from that world who actually seems to like me for who I am, not despite it.
Eventually, Fergus points out that my drink is empty and offers to get me another one. I thank him as he heads back to the bar, watching him for a moment. He’s a typical rugby union player – tall, broad-shouldered, with that rugged, slightly scruffy look that comes from years of playing a sport where getting roughed up is par for the course. He’s good-looking in that boy-next-door way – if you live next door to Buckingham Palace, that is.
He returns with another drink, setting it down in front of me.
‘Come on then, let’s get it over with,’ he says. ‘How’s Seph?’
I hesitate, not sure how much to share, but then decide to be honest.
‘She’s doing well. Really well, actually,’ I reply.
‘Yeah, I heard she’s getting married,’ he says, and there’s a flicker of something – maybe hurt, maybe bitterness – in his eyes. ‘It broke my heart when she dumped me for Chet.’
Chet is what Chester’s friends call him.
I ignore the latter half of his statement.
‘Yes, she’s getting married in Australia. Really soon, actually,’ I tell him.
‘Are you going?’ he asks curiously.
‘Yeah, I am,’ I say, feeling a bit of the old resentment bubble up. ‘I told them I’m bringing a plus-one, but… well, I haven’t quite figured out who that is yet.’
Fergus looks thoughtful for a moment.
‘I know it might be a bit awkward, but… you could take me,’ he suggests.
‘You?’ I reply – did he really just say that?
He reaches out, taking my face gently in his hand, and I can’t help but freeze.
‘Lana, I’ve always thought you were interesting. Beautiful, too. It would be an honour to be your date,’ he tells me.
I think for a moment. Showing up to Seph’s wedding with her ex-boyfriend would certainly send a message. It would rattle them all, maybe even distract everyone on the big day. But is that really me? Am I the kind of girl who would do something like that? Even for revenge? That’s never been my style. Sure, I want to turn up with someone to annoy them all, but I don’t want to actually ruin it, or hurt anyone on a personal level.
Before I can answer, Fergus leans in a little closer, his voice taking on a persuasive tone. ‘Plus, it would make Seph sick with jealousy. Her sister and her ex, getting sloppy at her wedding – it would absolutely fuck the day.’
There’s a flash of something almost evil in his eyes, a look I only catch for a second before he leans in for a kiss. Oh my God, is he serious right now?
I pull back, my heart racing.
‘Erm, that’s probably not a good idea,’ I point out, oddly politely, given the circumstances.
He stares at me, a mix of disbelief and frustration on his face.
‘Are you crazy? Your sister never had a nice word to say about you, and if I were you, I’d burn her wedding to the ground,’ he tells me.
I know Seph isn’t my biggest fan, so I’m not surprised to hear that, but even so, there’s a line I can’t cross. Staying true to myself is important, and while my family may think I’m a disappointment, I don’t want to let myself down.
‘I appreciate the offer,’ I say softly, ‘but I’ll figure something else out.’
Fergus looks at me for a long moment, then sighs, leaning back in his seat.
‘You’re too nice, Lana. That’s your problem,’ he tells me. ‘I know, they’re your family, but you’re their family too. Think about that.’
I mean, he’s not wrong about that last part, but I know that taking him would be a big mistake. I’ll find someone to go with. Someone I can have a laugh with, someone who will piss them all off, and cause chaos with me, but the fun kind.
He must be out there somewhere…