“Oh my fucking, what?” she breathed. “I can’t… Oh my God…What?”
“Stoonin’,” Neve repeated happily. “Y’boy’s got great taste.”
But Tabby was barely listening; she was still shocked by the sight of herself. For one thing, she looked so much more like Sam and Nix, but she was also just sodifferent.
“I’m so normal,” she whispered to her reflection.
She wasn’t. She was still covered in tattoos, but her skin glowed, her nails were perfect, and her newly chestnut hair was thick and shiny. She looked more conventional than she’d been in her adult life, and what’s more, she… liked it. Turning to the side, she realised, with a guilty jolt, that she looked kind of like Liv Tyler if Liv Tyler had a shitload of tats and big old titties.
She blinked, waiting for the image to fade and for fuckup ghost Tabby to return. The beautiful brunette blinked back at her, and something hot unfurled in her chest. A feeling so sweet, Tabby almost didn’t recognise it.
Hope.
Somehow, it was easy to remember now, the way she’d been before Jo, before the failed festival, before everything that felt like hers had vanished into mud too deep to dig through.
She looked away, tears burning the backs of her eyes. “Jesus…”
“What’s wrong?” Neve said. “Don’cha like it?”
Tabby shook her head, then nodded, then shook her head. She couldn’t begin to explain how it felt to feel beautiful after months of ugliness. She hadn’t known how miserable she had been until this beacon had shone out from the dark.
Toby had given her this. Something she hadn’t even known she’d lost. She forced her gaze to return to the mirror and smiled at herself. Tatted Liv Tyler smiled back, and she felt another surge of hope. Everything might end up okay. And even if it didn’t, come hell or high water, she was going to fuck the life out of Toby Tennant for doing this for her.
10
The bar was almost entirely dark, but beneath the glass floor glowed dozens of pink neon strips, illuminating high heels and bare legs and turning already pretty faces cruelly beautiful. Tabby thought of the neon sign on her bedroom door. Is that why Toby had chosen this place? Had he put that much thought into this?
She hadn’t expected to go out. Last night, he’d told her she was going to his house. Yet at the end of her appointment, Neve had handed her another slip of cream paper, and she’d found out he wanted to meet her somewhere called ‘Prism.’
Leave your tattooing things in the car, he’d written.The taxi will take them to my place.
So, she’d transferred her phone and money into the seashell clutch and, half convinced she’d never see it again, left her heavy duffel in the taxi. And now she was in pink neon Prism, wearing a Met Gala dress and standing by the silver ‘please wait to be seated’ sign.
“Damn, girl. Looking good.”
She turned to see a friendly, longhaired dude grinning at her. Feeling entirely in the mood to be appreciated, Tabby smiled back. “Cheers.”
“Anytime. Great dress.”
The guy wandered off, and she kept smiling. It wasn’t just that he’d thought she was hot; it was that the whole world felt friendly tonight.Shefelt friendly. Loose, flexible, and ready. She bounced on her toes like a prize-fighter, more than prepared for whatever fantasy lay ahead.
A tray of cocktails whirled past, and she realised she didn’t want one. The champagne from Steel Gloss had long since worn away, and for the first time in a long time, she didn’t want to top up. Things didn’t need to get better, and she didn’t want to go numb. Everything was perfectly exciting the way it was.
She caught sight of her reflection in a dark windowpane and was struck all over again by how different she looked. Older and more together. She touched her brown hair, her tattoos confirming that it belonged to her.
She’d thought dyeing her hair a normie colour would make her feel flat, but it didn’t. The future seemed incredibly wide all of a sudden. Malleable. If she didn’t have to have blue hair to be interesting, what else could she get away with?
Maybe I won’t drink anymore,she thought, thrilled at the mere suggestion.Maybe I’ll give Hannah the rest of my weed and start running. Fuck it, maybe I’ll finally do that trial week at Pilates Republic. I could go to yoga! I could buy activewear!
A platinum-haired hostess appeared. “Hi. Do you have a reservation?”
“Ah, possibly? I’m meant to meet Toby Tennant?”
The hostess checked her iPad and smiled. “Right this way.”
Tabby was led through the neon-lit bar, and she beamed at patrons as she went past. Her stomach squirmed a little, but she forced her smile wider.Relax, baby girl, you got this.
The hostess pulled back a black velvet curtain and revealed Toby, devastatingly handsome, in a white shirt. Time seemed to wind up and back as he looked at her; his gaze moved from her hair to her chest to the upper midriff exposed by the dress’ strategic cutaway. Then his jaw clenched, and his eyes—navy in the neon pink light—narrowed.
