Chapter Sixteen #3
‘Don’t worry about it – this is what happens in the British countryside. Anyway, I hate this jacket, I only wore it because it was a present from my brother. I didn’t want to offend him.’
‘You hate it?’ I let out a surprised laugh. ‘It is very … white.’
Then I saw something blossom in Jimi’s face. Genuine affection. I felt it too.
‘You’re the stylist. What do you think of it? Wait a minute—’
He gently brushed a piece of dirt I didn’t know was there off my lip.
There was a moment when we were standing there, looking at each other.
‘Honestly? I hate it.’
We both giggled.
‘I could tell. You can’t hide anything, you know, Amber.’
‘What do you mean?’
He shook his head and chuckled to himself. ‘I mean I could tell you hated it from the minute you saw it. I think you were unsure about me too.’
‘Really? Not at all!’ I said, embarrassed.
‘You think I’ve got something to prove. What’s that phrase – don’t judge a book by its cover?’
‘Or a man by his puffa?’
We both cracked up. When he laughed, his whole face lit up, turning into even more perfection than before.
I sensed Jimi had something else to say, but whatever it was, he resisted.
A part of me wanted his hand to stay there, on my lip. The human contact felt nice.
‘You’re cheeky too,’ he said.
‘Takes one …’
‘What?’
‘Nothing.’
‘You go in first. I’ll wait a bit.’ He looked at me with smiling eyes.
It did feel as though being out here together, we had something to hide.
I looked at him, weighing him up. Thinking about what Blair had said, about him being a playboy. As I turned and pushed open the back door to the house, I squeezed my eyes shut.
This is fine. Absolutely fine.
Shit, I fancy him.
An hour later, disappointed to find none of the usual bowls of salted peanuts, tortilla chips, or hummus found at the house parties I usually frequented, I wandered into the kitchen on the hunt for sustenance.
I was beginning to miss hummus almost as much as Rob by this point, and I probably would have done something regrettable with Jimi in exchange for some Popchips.
On the kitchen island was a tray of individual gem lettuce leaves, like perfectly formed open shells, each filled with small cubes of watermelon and feta.
A chopping board with some half-chopped chives sat next to it, indicating Coco couldn’t be far away.
I looked over my shoulder before swiping one of the canapés.
‘Saw that,’ snapped a voice, coming from the other side of the island. I peered around the corner and saw Coco sitting cross-legged on the floor, her back to the wall.
‘Blatant daylight robbery,’ she said, looking up at me glumly.
‘Nighttime actually,’ I replied, noticing that she was making no effort to stand up and join me. I noticed a wrapper beside her and something in her hand.
‘Are you okay?’
‘You know it’s bad when you hit the cooking chocolate.’ She sighed. ‘And it’s ninety-eight per cent raw cacao – it’s so bitter it barely passes for chocolate. It tastes like shit.’ She threw the chocolate down.
‘Why are you eating it then?’ I knelt down and joined her on the floor.
‘Because there’s nothing really, really calorific in these cupboards. I’ve considered mainlining the Manuka honey.’
‘Hmm and who is to blame for that …?’ I muttered, enjoying the opportunity for a sarcastic side-eye glance. This would make a funny reel if I’d had my phone handy: Celebrity nutritionist gets high on cooking chocolate .
‘Are you prepared to share any of it, so I can check?’ I joined her on the floor.
Coco shifted her tiny bum a few centimetres so I could slot in next to her.
‘Shall I finish the canapés?’
‘If you like, but I doubt anyone will notice. They’re all high on some mushroom stuff Jimi’s been handing around.’
I nodded.
‘Even Mandy.’
‘Thank God there’s no press here.’
‘We think. Do you take drugs?’ she asked.
‘No, it’s never been my thing. You?’
‘Not really. My ex-girlfriend used to smoke a lot of weed and I saw what it did to her. She became paranoid.’
‘Paranoid?’
‘She hadn’t come out to many of her friends or family, and much as we had some great times when we were together, I got fed up of feeling like a big dirty secret.
And there was also the thinking I was being unfaithful, accusing me of things I hadn’t done, fearing the world was against her. It was a lot to hold.’
‘Are you still together?’
Her bottom lip began to quiver. ‘Not anymore.’
‘It’s fresh?’
‘Very. We ended on the phone yesterday.’
‘I’m so sorry, Coco. Do you want to talk about it?’ I put an arm around her shoulder.
‘It was something you said, Amber. About authenticity. It really hit home – I don’t want to have to hide my relationship anymore.
I need to be with someone who can be proud of me.
I need a fresh start.’ There were tears in her eyes.
She sighed heavily. ‘Anyway, it’s over. I’m over it.
Tell me about you – boyfriend, girlfriend, both, neither? ’
‘I’m in no hurry – let it out.’ I pulled her close.
‘You know, I haven’t asked anyone that question for so long,’ she said, ‘because I was always afraid of the reciprocal question. I now see how ridiculous that is.’ We both paused. ‘I’ve got you to thank for this.’
‘Me? I don’t seem to have made you feel very happy. I’m just muddling along trying to make Mandy wear less offensive clothing.’
‘But it’s so much more than that.’ She wiped away some moisture from under her nose with the back of her hand. ‘You’re making a difference to people.’
‘Clothes can only do so much,’ I said. ‘You’ve got to believe in yourself first.’
‘Tell me about you,’ Coco said.
‘Boyfriend. Although it doesn’t feel like it at the moment,’ I replied.
‘Oh, I’m sorry. Is everything okay?’
‘I don’t know, because I can’t reach him.’ I stopped for a second. ‘Did you say there’s proper chocolate anywhere in this house?’
‘I wish. I could murder some Dairy Milk. I might be a nutritionist by profession, but chocolate has always been my weakness. I love it too much.’
‘Have you tried imagining you don’t like it, when you eat it?’
‘Name something you don’t like then?’
‘My boyfriend’s breath after he’s eaten cheese.’
Coco snorted.
‘She laughs!’ I smiled.
‘There’s nothing worse than cheese breath.’ Coco giggled. ‘I’ll give that a try next time.’
‘Did someone say cheese?’ It was Jimi coming back into the room. My heart did a little flutter when I heard his voice.
‘I was hoping to find some food – proper food – in here. Until I remembered this place is a health retreat.’ He took us both in as we sat on the floor together, Coco’s eyes a little red. ‘What’s up?’
‘Health-retreat-meets-rehab would be more accurate.’ Coco sighed.
Jimi snorted. ‘Is Amber bringing you down?’
‘Hey!’ I exclaimed.
He ignored me. ‘Are there any salty snacks anywhere ?’
‘I’m only doing what I’m told.’ Coco held her hands up.
‘I’d settle for some more alcohol,’ I said.
‘Philippa was meant to go on a mission to find some, but she hasn’t come back,’ added Coco.
‘She’s upstairs with a bunch of influencers,’ Jimi told us.
‘Running tours of the house and giving away all of its dirty secrets. Gables is going to be trending on Instagram soon, believe me. Anyway, I have this.’ With a cheeky grin he produced an unopened bottle of champagne from behind his back.
‘As long as it doesn’t paralyse you, Amber. ’ He winked at me.
‘Aren’t you meant to be doing some influencing for Mandy right about now?’ I asked, keen to avoid looking flustered.
‘Hand it over then.’ Coco took the bottle from him.
‘Enjoy, ladies, enjoy. I’d better do some influencing and get back on the decks,’ Jimi said. I felt disappointed he was going again.
‘If I was straight, I totally would,’ Coco whispered as we both watched him leave the room. He even looked good from behind. ‘He is so hot.’
‘A bad influence. And cheesy,’ I added.
‘I bet he doesn’t have cheesy breath though,’ Coco quipped. ‘I bet it’s really minty and fresh.’
‘I bet he uses whitening stripes,’ I added with a giggle. The thought of the inside of Jimi’s mouth made me feel funny inside.
Coco looked at the side of my face. ‘You fancy him.’
‘I don’t!’ My voice sounded trill.
‘You so do,’ she teased. ‘And I bet he has full veneers.’
We both cracked up.
A couple of glasses of champagne later Coco and I went back into the lounge, where the music had been turned up, and sofas pushed back to create a makeshift dance floor in the centre.
Bodies writhed, a jungle of limbs and hands in the air, phones lifted, a lot of laughter.
Mandy and her guests looked like performers from a contemporary circus troupe.
She was holding court, of course, standing on top of a round, upholstered ottoman coffee table and waving her arms in the air, while Aneka whooped in appreciation. House music was playing.
‘Please don’t break a leg!’ Blair shouted at Mandy. She ignored them and continued gyrating. ‘I can’t believe I’ve turned into the responsible one.’
‘She’s doing better than most of us,’ I replied. ‘Good on her!’
Mandy flicked her head at Blair before kicking off her vertiginous platform sandals, opting to go barefoot. One flew across the room, narrowly missing an influencer.
She began waving her arms in exaggerated movements and dropping into sexy squats in time with the beat.
The ottoman became her stage, as if she was performing in front of legions of adoring fans, which wasn’t far from the truth.
Jose goaded her on, looking at her adoringly and videoing her moves on his phone.
The music segued into a mash-up of ‘Independent Women’. I glanced across and gave Jimi an approving look. The heavy beat made my throat pulsate.
‘Come on then.’ Blair grabbed my hand and led me onto the dance floor with them. Self-consciously I began to move. I was definitely a level above tipsy by now, my head a bit spinny as I swayed, but the music was brilliant, and I was a happy drunk. It felt great to let myself go.