No one would truly know who we were, unless we told them, and only then if we told them the truth.
“Let’s head outside. There’s champagne waiting.” Lara’s voice was soft, calm. But like the sea, there was a depth there.
There was always more to the words we heard.
Safir was designedto carry a party. There would be in excess of a hundred or a hundred and fifty people here tonight, but the place would never look too busy. Livi knew how to hold a ball, having been to more than most. There were areas to relax in, spaces to dance, places to drink and nooks to hide. The sun wouldn’t go down until around nine, at which point, everywhere would be lit up with a subtle glow, unless you wanted to stay in the shadows.
It was already busy; actors and models, members of elite society, an ex-politician and a current one, a chef more famous for his programmes than restaurants and a singer who already looked like she’d had too many white lines.
Lala gave me a glance and a nod, before she headed straight for Monty and the brunette who was draping herself all over him. Music had already started, the deejay rotating Ibiza classics.
The buzz was there, and even I couldn’t not smile, the beat upping my heart rate, a glass of champagne pushed into my hand. A couple of girls I’d gone to school with were there, a surprise probably arranged by Lala. Mel worked on her family’s farm now, where they specialised in breeding and training thoroughbred racehorses. Rachael worked for a charity, because that was what you did when you didn’t need a salary. She was engaged to a distant royal, but none of us were sure if that was her choice or not.
We chatted, catching up with gossip and speculation, talking about the rumours around one of the girls in our year, after they’d worked out that I was Jameson and not Lara. More people arrived, the dim blurring of noise not quite muffled by the music. I saw Livi dancing with a Hollywood actor, laughing in his arms, looking up at him in a way I recognised, their outfits suggesting that for the night at least, they were both somebody different.
Lawrie wasn’t here. He’d got caught up in a deal in Milan, so he’d been delayed by a day. I doubted either of them were heartbroken about it.
Livi would have company tonight, and I suspected that Lawrie would too, in some five star hotel room.
The golden light faded into the dark canvas of night, the music turning up, the beats getting heavier. Masked faces were everywhere, trying to disguise identities even under the festoon lighting. I weaved through bodies dancing, catching sight of a couple on a sun lounger, his hands the only things that concealed her breasts.
And it was still early, Dionysus was a prompt guest.
I sat down on a swinging egg chair that faced the cocktail hut that had been erected that morning, draped in white cotton which shuddered in the breeze. Lala was nearby, her legs draped over a man-boy I’d not met before, but suspected he was a wannabe rock god. Carl wasn’t here and he wasn’t in her mind either.
Cherry Lady.
It’d been added to the list as a last thought. A name given to the cocktail he’d made for me. I saw shadows through the white cotton, movement behind it, as someone got ready.
There were already cocktail stands up and around, each serving a couple of different drinks. This one was different, this was made to your specification if you wished, your chosen blend.
The drapes were moved back, exposing a row of top shelf spirits and a man who made me feel as if I was already drunk.
I didn’t move. My whole body felt as if it had been caught in a tight net, except my heart, which seemed to want to bust out from behind my ribs. A couple of people swarmed to the bar immediately, and I saw Tommy smile, amused.
He started to make a cocktail, giving more of a performance than he’d done for me, raking in a couple of cheers. I couldn’t hear what was said, I just watched, almost spellbound.
He didn’t fit in here. He was beautiful, and his body would be what some of the men here aspired to. I’d no doubt that there were several women and a handful of men who’d like to take him to bed or just behind the hut and find out if he could make them come just as well as he could make a margarita, but here was not where he wanted to be.
That was the difference.
“You need to stop staring.” Lala landed next to me. “Not that I haven’t looked a bit myself.”
“He’s warned me off him.”
She laughed, high on life or something else. Who knew?
“Why would that stop you?”
“I don’t think it’s going to.” I toyed with a feather that was woven into my hair. It was going to be a bastard to get them all out, but I’d worry about that when I had to, which wasn’t now.
Lala pressed a kiss to my face. “Almost everyone has thought I was you tonight.”
“Really?”
“Yep. But they wouldn’t if they saw you now. You just need a book in your hands and you’d be unmistakable. Let’s dance. Let your bartender watch you, for a change.” She stood up, grabbing my wrist and pulling.
There was space in front of the hut to dance, the speakers in that area aimed at it. A couple of people were already dancing there, Moby asking why his heart hurt so bad. It was a classic track, one we’d grown up on, one that some nights had been a lullaby.
