‘Okay,’ Faye says, waiting for it to make sense.
‘Except it’s become clear that it’s not exactly the type of wedding where I’ll be welcomed with open arms. It’s going to be this snooty, old-money, over-the-top wedding. Seph grew up rich, with my dad, and uses “summer” as a verb. I grew up in a normal house, with my mum, and I use summer as an opportunity to buy my winter wardrobe for 80 per cent off.’
‘Oh,’ Faye says plainly.
‘And you might think I’m paranoid, or insecure about not being part of the elite like they are, but the other day, my family staged this… well, it was basically an intervention,’ I continue, feeling the anger bubbling away inside me as I recall all of the details. ‘They called me over for lunch, so we could all “talk” about the wedding, but really, it was just an excuse to warn me –only me– not to embarrass them.’
‘Are you serious?’ Molly asks, her expression mirroring Faye’s outrage.
‘Yep,’ I say, nodding. ‘“Lana, make sure you behave, make sure you dress modestly, don’t bring a date who will embarrass you and this family” – like they’re expecting me to show up in ripped jeans with a guy who just got out of prison. Apparently anything above and including a C cup isn’t classy – breasts aren’t classy – so they want me to, I don’t know, keep them covered? Absolutely not awkward at all, sitting at the dining table with my family, talking about my tits. And if that’s not all bad enough, at the very last minute, they have moved their wedding day to my thirtieth birthday, because the groom’s gran is superstitious, that’s the only reason, and they didn’t even mention that the date was my birthday.’
‘That’s so messed up,’ Faye says. ‘I’m fuming for you!’
‘Me too,’ Molly chimes in. ‘That’s just… awful. Who does that to their own sister?’
‘Right?’ I say, feeling a strange mix of validation and fury. ‘And the thing is, I’m not like them, so I can’t prove them wrong, so part of me really wants to prove them right. I want to show up with someone who’ll really shake things up, just to make a point. But then again, maybe I should just not go at all.’
Faye shakes her head emphatically.
‘Absolutely not. You should go. And you should cause as much trouble as you possibly can. Show them they can’t treat you like that,’ she tells me.
‘Exactly,’ Molly agrees. ‘And you need to look incredible while doing it. Go out and buy the hottest, most jaw-dropping “fuck you” dress you can find.’
‘A “fuck you/fuck me” dress,’ Faye adds, grinning.
I laugh, the idea of strutting into that wedding in a killer dress and wreaking a little havoc sounding better and better.
‘I like the way you both think,’ I tell them. ‘I was worried I might be overreacting…’
‘Not at all,’ Faye says. ‘Show them that they can’t mess with you. Go in there, living your best “worst” life and show them how happy and comfortable with yourself you are.’
I do like the sound of that…
Molly nods.
‘I could give you the number of that guy I went out with, but honestly, he was just kind of sad. Not the kind of guy who’s going to make a scene,’ she tells me.
‘Yeah, I think I need someone who is going to be more… impactful,’ I reply. ‘Not someone who is going to make people simply feel sorry for me. I need a certain sort of date… a real piece of work. Someone who’ll drive them absolutely insane.’
Faye’s eyes light up as her mouth twists into the kind of grin that makes me think she’s on to something.
‘I know just where you can find the perfect man,’ she says, clapping her hands excitedly. ‘My brother is the doorman at Eros, and he can let you in, so that you can find a rich arsehole to take, to compete with the other rich arseholes – your family – no offence. That’s exactly what you need.’
None taken, she’s not wrong.
My eyes widen in surprise. I’ve heard of Eros – everyone has. It’s the most exclusive club in Leeds, where the rich and famous go to play. The place with the notoriously strict dress code, where people have been turned away for having blue nails, or not seeming happy enough, or seeming too happy, or having a phone that wasn’t an iPhone. Of course, it’s where Seph used to go for nights out, before she settled down with Chester, because apparently it’s fine and sophisticated to enjoy a night out if it’s at an exclusive venue, but if you spend your night dancing at somewhere like Saturn until 4a.m., drinking alcopops, surrounded by dry-humping students, it makes you some kind of loser. Hmm, okay, perhaps that wasn’t the best example.
‘Can you really get me in?’ I ask, feeling a spark of excitement, not just at the idea of finding someone to take to the wedding to cause a stink, but because I’m getting to go to Eros!
‘Of course,’ Faye assures me. ‘He does it for me all the time. I’ll let him know.’
Oh, this is exactly what I need. I need to fight fire with fire, and Eros is just the place to do that.
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.
