Chapter 7
7
‘Don’t get blue,’ Sharon stage-whispered from the corner of her mouth. Amber barely heard her over the noise of the chair she was lounging in. The combination of the massaging motion under her, with the warm soothing water lapping at her feet, left her practically boneless.
‘Eh?’ She turned lazily, her head sitting between the massaging head rest. Sharon peeked at the beauty therapist, but she was off gathering lotions and bottles of gel polish in a little caddy.
‘I said, don’t get blue on your nails.’
‘Oh.’ Amber could feel the knots being slowly pummelled from her body. As birthday eves went, this one was shaping up to be better than she’d thought. When Sharon had arrived that morning, bearing balloons and gifts, she’d been about ready to pull the covers over her head and sleep the last day of her twenties away. Not that she could, given that she had a not-surprise surprise party to get ready for. Sharon whisking her off to a fancy salon in Harrogate was a nice distraction. They had a whole spa day planned, all booked and paid for, and she was so grateful, she’d almost burst into tears on the spot. Sharon had got her to pack a bag with some bits in it – flip flops, her charger and phone, a bikini for the massage, and told her she had precisely ten minutes to get ready and get downstairs.
She replayed what Sharon said in her head. ‘Why not blue?’
Sharon flashed her a serious look, waggling her fingers. ‘Dead people.’
Amber tittered, but Sharon’s face didn’t change. ‘Dead people?’
‘Yeah,’ she nodded, pulling a face. ‘You know, when you die – your nails go all blue.’ A shiver ran through her, making Amber want to laugh again. ‘Gross. Don’t get blue.’
Amber shook her head, practically moaning as the therapist came and poured some minty smelling potion into the foot bath her feet were currently resting in. ‘You watch far too much of that crime channel.’
Sharon shook her head. ‘And you don’t watch enough.’ At Amber’s critical gaze back, her lips finally tugged upwards. ‘Get coral, suits you.’
The massage chair stopped for a second, and then their magical little cogs started whirring in the other direction. She melted further into the leather. ‘Thanks for this, mate. Just what I needed.’ She thought of the stack of gifts back at the flat and felt a pang of guilt in her gut. ‘But you shouldn’t have spent so much.’
Sharon winced. ‘Well, to be honest, I didn’t exactly pay for this.’
Amber’s relaxed muscles coiled tight. ‘What?’ she hissed, her eyes darting around. If she had snuck them in here…
‘Relax, it’s paid. I’m not that bad!’
Amber’s brow lifted. ‘Oh, not that bad? Remember the Avril Lavigne concert we went to? That security guard practically carried us out of there. I knew I should have checked the tickets.’
Sharon laughed, slapping her hand on the leather arm. ‘Oh my God, yeah! I’ll give you that one.’ She belly laughed, jabbing a finger in her direction. ‘I swear, that other bloke with the hi-vis vest, I thought he was going to throw you like a javelin when you went all tense on him.’
‘I thought he was wrong!’ she protested, face flushing as she remembered locking her body up as the burly security guard tried to eject them from the venue. At one point, she could swear she heard Avril laugh. The whole crowd was watching her. ‘How was I supposed to know you’d snuck us in there with that shady roadie! You told us they were VIP!’
She groaned. ‘Oh… Victor. Don’t remind me. You know I think he’d used that one before.’
Another therapist came past, giving them a glass of Champagne and a selection of gel-polish samples on a key-chain-looking thing.
‘No rush ladies, take all the time you need to decide.’
‘Thanks.’ Sharon raised the glass at her. ‘Bubbles as well, eh?’ She held her flute out to Amber’s. ‘Happy thirtieth, mate! Tomorrow’s the big day!’
Amber chinked her glass, taking a long sip. ‘Thanks. I think I’ll need thirty of these to get over the shock.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘So, who did pay for this then?’
For a moment, she thought of Bradley. Maybe he’d done it before the break-up. He hadn’t sent her a card, or been in touch. She was hoping that he’d just leave it alone now. She had daydreamed that he’d give her a ring for her birthday, once upon a couple of months ago. Now, she just felt relief that he wasn’t going to be there, or stand her up like he usually did. She wanted her thirties to be Sloane, and drama, free.
When her friend didn’t answer, she turned to scrutinise her. ‘Who paid for this, Shaz?’
‘Tyler.’
‘Tyler?’
Sharon nodded .
‘Yep. Paid for both of us, the whole day.’ She raised her brows. ‘The full package too.’
Amber felt her heart throw itself against her rib cage. ‘When?’
‘Does it matter when?’
Amber thought of her friend, back home in the kitchen, working away with Ben, and smiled. ‘No. Not really.’ Her gut twisted when she thought of their fight. The way he’d pushed her to fight for her own life. When did she stop fighting for it herself? She’d screamed at him, pushed him away, and he’d still come after her. ‘I feel bad now.’
‘And why is that?’ Sharon’s face was all knowing, and Amber had to drain the rest of her glass before replying.
‘You know why. I was awful to him the other night. He’s been nothing but nice since, and I feel like a prize dickhead.’
He had been more than nice. The day after the bowling alley, he’d snapped back into being her friend. The grumpy, scowling hulk of a gentle giant she knew and…
‘That’s Tyler for you. Mr Dependable.’ Sharon leaned back in her chair, pressing a button on the control and moaning like a porn star at the increased pressure. ‘Oh, dear Lord, that’s better than sex.’
Amber huffed. ‘Yeah, well it’s as close as I’m going to get these days.’
Sharon tutted at the side of her. ‘Well, that’s what parties are for. Maybe your luck will be in sooner than you think.’
‘Not a chance. No more men for me. I don’t have time for all that now. I have to get serious if I’m going to get the Arms.’ And the baby. ‘I’m good single.’ Sure, she felt a pang of… something whenever she saw her friend these days. All week, he’d been the usual Tyler. Master of the kitchen, bringer of pastries. He’d fallen back into his easy pattern, their easy pattern. Before all the lustful looks and snatched conversations that left her breathless and wanting to hear more. But she had a plan and, after her birthday, she’d resolved to ge t on with it. She was going to fix the business proposal and have faith that everything would come right in the end. It had to, right? Tyler would go and work somewhere else; their sexual tension would fade. She’d have everything she wanted.
‘So, that’s it? You’re just staying single?’
‘Yep. Easier that way. No wasting my time, no waiting for someone else to show up. I can just do my own thing. Master of my own destiny.’
‘Sounds lonely,’ Sharon pointed out.
‘Yeah,’ Amber sighed. ‘Well, I’m a hell of a lot less lonely since I got dumped, so riddle me that, Batman.’
‘Aww honey,’ Sharon reached for the polish samples, selecting a dark, dull-looking blue. ‘Not all men are like Sloane. You and Bradley were like blue polish on toenails.’ She gave her a pointed look, holding up the navy-blue thumbnail. ‘Looked good in some lights.’ She stuck her tongue out of the side of her mouth, shutting her eyes comically. ‘Dead when you look closer.’