Chapter Sixteen #4
Jimi and Coco joined us dancing and even Julie-Ann was throwing shapes, swaying her head from side to side, her blonde hair lashing her cheeks, a wide smile across her face.
I kept looking across to Jimi and noticed his eyes kept coming back to me.
Even between all the bodies, he found me.
Sometimes he would smile at me, as if he was checking whether I was still there and was pleased that I was.
It was nice. I felt special. I started to play a little game with him, vacillating between smiling back and pretending I hadn’t noticed he was looking at me, although I kept him in my peripheral vision, aware of his movements.
When the numbers started dwindling, Mandy and Jose excused themselves.
Coco had disappeared off to bed, and it dawned on me that I really should get some sleep too.
I’d been chatting to a woman about her business making real-hair extensions for celebrities, and my eyes were starting to glaze over, as I struggled to keep up with her detailed recounting of trips to India to source the finest quality human hair to make clip-on ponytails for Ariana Grande.
Plus, my boots were starting to rub, and my head was aching – an early sign of the hangover to come.
As I crossed the small courtyard to reach the entrance to the annexe, I felt a hand on my shoulder.
‘Are you really going to bed?’ Jimi asked gently.
‘I really am,’ I replied snoozily.
‘I thought we could have a nightcap.’ It could have been a question, but he said it as a statement.
‘Does nighttime tea count?’
‘Does it contain mushrooms?’ he asked, innocently. ‘They’re all high in there.’
‘Don’t go there,’ I replied, rolling my eyes. ‘No, it’s herbal. And definitely not illegal. There’s a kettle in the annexe if you fancy it?’
‘There’s a kettle in the annexe,’ he replied jokily, mimicking my British accent. ‘You are so English.’
I shrugged. ‘I can’t do much about that.’
‘Well, I don’t mind if I do.’ His eyes sparkled.
I secretly loved that Jimi felt familiar enough to rib me.
When we got to the small kitchenette in the annexe, I filled the kettle – which was one of those silly mini kettles which barely make enough boiling water for two mugs – and flicked on the lamp on a small side table, next to an antique-looking red velvet two-seater sofa, with gold trimming peeling off in places.
It looked like something you might find in a neglected corner of Buckingham Palace.
Clearly all the furniture no longer deemed smart enough for the main house had been moved across to the annexe, because it was a menagerie of mismatched items that wouldn’t look out of place on a Portobello Road stall.
We both sat down at the same time and shuffled apart awkwardly.
‘Have you always been a DJ?’ I asked, thinking what a terrible opener this was. But I couldn’t think of anything else at that moment.
‘God no. I worked for an advertising agency for a few years.’
‘Oh, interesting. Did you work on any campaigns I might have seen?’
‘It’s unlikely. I wasn’t on the fun stuff.
I did the website development, social media, and SEO optimisation; until I realised that it was slowly eroding my brain of any fun.
I got so bored of going to work. Like a hamster on a wheel, round and round, days and weeks go by, turning into months and years, and before you know it, you’re not really living, you’re surviving. I didn’t want that from my life.’
‘Hard relate.’
‘You worked in tech?’
‘No. But I once worked in a call centre for an insurance company, and it was honestly the most soul-destroying way to earn money I’ve ever had. It was even worse than giving out free yoghurt pots for one whole summer at railway stations.’
‘Did you learn anything about insurance?’
‘Nothing. Let’s just say I left that entire industry – my brain isn’t wired that way. At school, for a long time, I seriously thought that working in STEM meant a career in floristry.’ He didn’t seem to get that joke. ‘So, you got out of tech?’
‘I followed my love of fitness and became a personal trainer. My tech skills also meant I had learnt enough to help Mandy with the social media side of things. She wanted someone she could trust with her accounts.’
‘What about DJing?’
‘I’ve always loved music, so I thought I’d give it a try.
Jose opened a few doors for me in the top clubs and it wasn’t too hard to get gigs, especially if you’re happy to take the warm-up shift.
Mandy had me play at her launch events which really helped too; and then I ended up doing some support for Jose on their business projects as well.
He’s been a good brother to me.’ He paused.
‘What music are you into? Put something on.’
I thought for a moment, not about what my favourite music actually was (anything by Taylor Swift), but what was the coolest thing to say right now.
‘I’ll put something on. Do you like British radio?’ I asked.
He shook his head.
Then an excruciating moment happened when I commanded, ‘Alexa, play Six Music.’
And Alexa said, ‘Now playing music to have sex to.’
I sprung out of my seat, towards the speaker, shouting urgently, ‘Alexa, stop! I said, play Six Music!’
Jimi burst into hysterical laughter as Alexa simply repeated, ‘Playing sex music.’
And I had to scream, ‘Alexa! Stop!’
I knew Alexa could play BBC Radio 6 Music, because she’d been doing it perfectly fine yesterday while I was working.
By now, tears were streaming down Jimi’s cheeks. ‘You’re so forward!’ he teased.
I died on my feet with embarrassment.
‘Alexa, stop! Please play “Everywhere” by Fleetwood—’ I kept getting the giggles and couldn’t finish the request properly and then got annoyed with Alexa again, as she said, ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t find “Everywhere”’ – all the while feeling horribly self-conscious about how my voice sounded as I veered between idiot and shouty person.
Finally, the intro to ‘Everywhere’ began and I breathed a sigh of relief, but it had missed the moment. I turned and realised Jimi was still laughing.
‘You should have left it on sex music,’ he spluttered. ‘I wanted to know what she was going to play!’
‘I told you I would never get a job in tech,’ I said. ‘Even Alexa hates me.’
Jimi stopped laughing now, stood up, and crossed the room to take one of my hands in both of his. But instead of making me feel embarrassed, it was a sweet, genuine gesture.
‘Oh Amber, how could anyone hate you?’ he asked. I felt an electric current run through me. ‘Come and sit back down. Tell me about your boyfriend. How did you meet?’
‘How do you know I have a boyfriend?’
‘I overheard you talking to Coco earlier.’
‘Really?’
‘I wasn’t spying on you, don’t worry. I just heard you mention it, that’s all. Is he a secret?’
‘Of course not.’
‘Well then – how did you meet?’
‘We met through work, when he was a producer of a documentary being made about this crazy stylist I was assisting for a while. We worked together for a bit, and then we got together. We lived in New York for three months, and now we’re back home.’
‘Is everything okay?’ He looked at me quizzically.
‘What else did you accidentally overhear?’
‘Nothing. Why?’
‘Things have been a bit …’ I thought for a moment about my choice of words and settled on, ‘weird, recently. We haven’t spoken much since I came here. I also thought he’d been in touch with his ex, and it spun me out.’
I had conflicting feelings about continuing this conversation. It felt disloyal to Rob to be talking about him to Jimi. But on the other hand, I was slightly drunk, and it felt good to have someone listen to me so attentively. Perhaps Jimi would be able to advise me from a male perspective.
‘Why would he do that?’ he asked, concerned.
‘I don’t know.’
‘Do you have any evidence?’
‘A photo.’
‘Let’s see it.’
I pulled out my phone. I scrolled to find the photo and we looked at it together.
Jimi took my phone and studied the image. He zoomed in on the central piece of evidence around which I had based my assumption of Rob’s infidelity. I hadn’t imagined this would be happening, not with a guy I half-fancied.
‘This photo doesn’t prove anything,’ Jimi announced.
‘You think so?’
He nodded.
‘Now I feel really bad.’
‘Maybe you should. So, what are you going to do about it?’
‘Well, if he would phone me back, that would be a great start.’
‘Just give him a minute. Relax.’
We paused. I became aware that he was looking at the side of my face.
‘You’re beautiful,’ Jimi murmured.
‘What?’ I turned to face him. Now I’m imagining things.
‘I said, you’re beautiful.’ He stopped me in my tracks. ‘Your boyfriend is a lucky guy.’
Jimi looked at me straight between the eyes. Then I swear his gaze lowered to meet my lips. He broke the spell with a smile. An instant red blush rose from my neck to my cheeks. ‘Especially when you blush.’
‘That is literally the worst thing you can say to someone who blushes easily,’ I replied, my face firing up again.
He laughed. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Yeah, thanks.’
‘I won’t mention your rosy-red cheeks again.’
We lingered for a few seconds as the words hung in the air. Then he slid his phone from his pocket and looked at it. It had to be around two a.m. by now.
He didn’t tell me the time, but said, ‘I suppose I’d better go to bed.’ Then he leant forward and pecked me on my very hot right cheek. I noticed he looked amused.
‘Night night, then,’ I said, self-conscious that my face was so obviously aglow with a mixture of embarrassment, tiredness, and alcohol.
‘See you in the morning,’ he added, straining to sound casual, perhaps wondering if he had overstepped the mark.
As Jimi turned and left the room, I let out an involuntary sigh.
In the deepest crevice of my brain, and somewhere closer to my groin, there was a stirring of an emotion I hadn’t felt for a long time. Lust.