CHAPTER 3
The door to Hestia’s studio, The Inky Hearth, was ajar when I arrived.
‘Can I come in?’ I shouted, checking my face in my compact mirror one last time. Reapplying make-up on the tube was not my forte. I scrubbed at a smudge of eyeliner, sighing.
‘Yep, we’re in the back,’ she replied, the whirr of the needle just audible over the music. Nine Inch Nails , I thought, remembering it from our time as roommates.
The interior was as moody and intense as the song, the walls a deep blue-black, contrasting with the vibrant pinks of the Japanese cherry-blossom mural surrounding the window opposite, a train rattling over the tracks behind.
The studio fitted right into Shoreditch, the edgy other end of the spectrum to my City world of marble, suits and fake smiles.
I realized I was at home in neither, my own corner of London yet to be revealed to me, if it ever would be.
Perhaps my mum had been right: you can take a girl out of the country . . .
Through the doorway into the second room, Hestia looked up and smiled.
‘Scott, this is my friend Lottie, the hot one I was telling you about.’
She winked, but before I could scowl, I realized what was underneath her arm. A very round, sculpted butt-cheek clad in tight boxers.
‘Hello hot Lottie,’ he replied, face down in the black leather, his voice muffled against the bed. ‘Don’t mind my ass.’
‘Bloody hell,’ I muttered, trying to look anywhere except the bed as Hestia laughed. I didn’t think of myself as prudish, but around Hestia I sometimes felt like Mother Teresa.
‘Heard you lost your job,’ Scott said and my eyes narrowed. Hestia kept her eyes on his skin, the corners of her mouth uplifted.
‘Mm-hmm,’ I replied, determined not to discuss my life with a stranger, even if he did have a peachy ass.
‘Come work for me,’ he offered, trying to turn his head so he could face me. His hair was long, a deep brown, almost black, like mine. ‘What do you do? Marketing? Always need decent marketing people.’
‘You only employ hot women,’ Hestia murmured, concentrating intently as she honed in on a detail. The tattoo was a snake, curled around some kind of foliage. ‘Lottie’s too good for you. Definitely hot enough, but way out of your league.’
He snorted.
‘I’ve sued people for saying less, you know,’ he replied, still trying to turn to look at me. ‘I mean, you’re right, I do, but still.’
‘And I could be very tempted to change this design into a pig,’ replied Hestia, nudging him as she sat up for a moment, straightening her back.
Bright cherry-red hair spilled over her shoulders; her kohl-lined blue-green eyes sparkled.
‘Keep still – one last bit and we’re done for today.
I need to take Lottie out and get her wasted. ’
Exhaustion suddenly threatened to take over and I grabbed the spare chair next to the other, empty bed.
Hestia glanced over at me, her eyes reading my expression in seconds.
The smile from their banter still on her lips, she leant towards Scott again, touching the needle to his skin, focusing intently for a few seconds.
‘There, all good. Outline’s done – only one more session now.’
I watched as she packed away and Scott shifted, stretching. I realized how much I wished I could be as easy with people as she was, to be able to be myself, even at work. My work clothes felt like a cage, the ends of my hair as limp and frazzled as my thoughts.
‘Hi,’ Scott said, looking up at me. ‘She’s right. You’re gorgeous, Lottie – nice to meet you.’
I shook my head, trying not to blush.
‘Thanks. I’ll umm . . . wait out there,’ I replied, catching Hestia’s eye and mentally threatening all the ways I would make her pay for this.
Their combined laughter, although not unkind, only served to dampen my mood further. My phone buzzed.
I’m so sorry about tonight, Kyle’s message read. I swear I’ll make it up to you. Date to end all dates next week? Are you sure you’re okay?
I stared at the screen, my thumb hovering over the reply but typing nothing. His second message followed. I’ll call you tomorrow, get some sleep. Love you x
‘Right, let’s get you drunk,’ Hestia announced as she strode in, Scott following. ‘And no, you’re not invited, Scott. We need to discuss your exposed ass in private.’
Guilt surged as Hestia brought over a third round of drinks, tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth in concentration.
Her ripped Fleetwood Mac T-shirt, black denim shorts, fishnets and silver Doc Martens fitted this place perfectly, one of the last genuinely grungy bars in a street otherwise swallowed whole by gentrification.
‘You should have seen me with Kyle’s parents, Hes. I downed my martini. Not a dainty sip, I knocked the whole thing back, all ￡20 of it. Marina almost had an aneurysm.’
Hestia barked a laugh, handing me a long glass and clinking hers against it.
‘Fucking right, that woman would turn anyone to hard drinking. Listen, you’ve got to stop beating yourself up about acting the way you feel – it’s totally justified!
You got made redundant from that place, despite all your hard work, and then that bitch turns up and begins the pass-agg parade.
I’m just pissed you didn’t throw it in her smug face. ’
I knew she was right, but I felt stifled. I can’t upset Kyle’s mum without upsetting him and after his message, I was starting to feel like a complete ass for behaving as I had.
‘I couldn’t even tell him about the job,’ I replied, sipping on my drink, pulling a face at the paint-stripping gin.
‘Totally chickened out. And not just because his parents were there. I just couldn’t picture his reaction, you know?
I think part of the reason he’s with me is because I’m on an ambitious career path, like him.
Or at least I was. What’s he going to say when I tell him I couldn’t get a year beyond the bloody graduate scheme? ’
Hestia pursed her lips, a sure sign she was keeping her thoughts to herself. For once.
‘Look. You know I’m not Kyle’s biggest fan,’ she began carefully, waving away my narrowing eyes, ‘but he’s clearly into you, right?
It’s been, what, a year now? In all likelihood he’ll be supportive.
I mean, his lot are all nepo babies – he’s more likely to get you a better job at his dad’s firm than judge you.
Everyone’s either screwing the boss or their son in that world. Come on, tell me I’m wrong.’
She raised her eyebrows above her own drink, daring me to disagree. A flash of light from the dancefloor highlighted the tattoo on her neck, flames licking up to her jaw, as though her passion had burnt through and branded her skin.
I couldn’t disagree. She was right, as usual.
And it made me queasy.
‘What about you and Cal?’ I asked, deflecting. She smiled, but let me get away with it. The complexities around her on/off boyfriend and business partner could’ve filled a week’s worth of conversation, and I felt bad that, what with my recent schedule and Kyle, I hadn’t asked her about it lately.
She shrugged, crimson lips pursing. That was the first hint of her true feelings; the hesitation and sip of her drink were the next.
Hestia was easily the most open, blunt and big-hearted person I’d ever met, but when it came to the really deep feelings, the ones that mattered the most, she kept those well guarded.
‘Oh fuck, I don’t know,’ she sighed. ‘I love him, I do. We’ve been together so long now, he feels more like an extension of myself, you know?
But . . . maybe it’s because we’re in business, running the studio, living together .
. .’ She tailed off, sipping again when she couldn’t express what she felt.
‘You’re a long way from the reason you got together, right?’ I offered, watching as she held my eyes, considering. ‘It’s not exactly romantic, is it? Working 24/7 and having to live other roles before being a couple. You need more connection than that, Hes.’
‘Lottie Wright, you’re an old soul,’ she replied after a pause, her voice gentler. ‘Sure you don’t fancy a gay awakening with me?’
I laughed, half spraying her with my drink at our longstanding banter.
I’d never let her forget that she’d all but propositioned me in the toilets, when I was still half dressed as a condom.
She’d repeated it at least once a year since, usually saving it for the least appropriate moments, for maximum reaction.
‘Girl, your mighty rack is wasted on me,’ I smirked, saluting her chest. ‘But I will always love you more than anyone else ever can.’
She smiled, fading as her face became serious again.
‘How do we know when it’s right? In a relationship, I mean?
’ she asked, staring at her drink, swilling the contents.
‘Does anyone ever really know when they’ve met someone they love?
Or if they’re fucking in love , whatever that is?
Sometimes I feel like Cal and I were just all fire and passion to begin with – I mean, Jesus, we didn’t stop fucking for a solid month,’ she noted, smiling briefly at my look, the one that confirmed I’d heard most of it in the next-door bedroom.
‘But it all just went so fast, and with the end of uni . . . Maybe if we’d met at a different time, had had less pressure to make a call on the future . . .’
I put my hand on hers. ‘What are you always telling me? What’s for you will find you. Right? Like this bullshit with my job. If you and Cal are meant to be, then that’s how it’ll turn out. And I guess, maybe, if you find love, a soulmate, whatever the fuck you want to call it, you’ll know.’
We both realized it at the same moment. That if what I’d just said was true, then the only relationship either of us could apply it to was our own.
‘Fuck.’ Hestia sighed, offering her glass up to mine again. We clinked and then both took an overly large gulp. ‘Well, however things pan out, at least you don’t have to work with Kyle.’