“Cool. I got you scrambled eggs with bacon and mushrooms.” She gestures with her fork to a second plate. “Eat all the toast, Edward Cider-Hands.”
I groan at the memory of rolling down Hampstead Heath with two bottles of Cornish Scrumpy taped to my hands, twisting my ankle. “Hey, an alcohol tolerance this low is economical. I’m cheap to take out.”
“Until you end up in A&E.”
“True,” I say, sitting and pulling my breakfast toward me. “How are you feeling about seeing your parents?”
Ada scrunches up her face. “It’ll probably be horrible, but fuck it.”
“Well, hopefully it’s not too bad. Anyway, you don’t have to stay long. The welcome cocktail thing starts at five, and we need to be back here by three at the latest to do makeup and drink buckets of wine.”
She looks slightly mollified. “Excited to see Fuckface?”
My stomach flips. “Nervous and excited. And please promise you won’t call Will Fuckface to his?—”
“Fuckface?”
I point my fork at her. “Yes. Please be nice. Besides, Will might not even come to this bit. The food’s catered by the kids doing hospo classes, and the music students are putting on a showcase, and I doubt any of them is a young Ada Renaldo.”
“Those poor nerdy bastards. School bands are the worst. Everyone talking over your performances, while the horn section sounds like farts.”
I laugh. “Who knows? Maybe they’ll recognise you and put on the show of a lifetime?”
“Yeah, I’m a real inspiration to the kids. Drink hard, fail harder.”
I frown. If the world’s most famous flautist is worried about coming off as a failure at this reunion, what the hell does that mean for me? “What are you talking about? You’ve done amazing things! Everyone’s gonna be so excited to see you.”
Ada stares at me, her face unreadable. “Everyone?”
“Well, not Jenny. But we’ll deal with her when we get there.”
Ada sets her jaw. “Well, after I shatter the dreams of young hopefuls tonight, what’s next?”
I mentally scan the reunion itinerary. “Tours and boring shit tomorrow, then the formal dinner and dance at the Silverlight Estate ballroom. On Sunday, there’s a garden party at some alumni mansion with a kapa haka performance to close things out.”
“Okay. Here.” Ada pushes her plate toward me. “I’m not hungry.”
“Hypocrite!”
She smirks. “I don’t chuck, baby. Not since the Pulse-ident.”
I wince at the memory of that lime-flavoured electric booze. “I’m so glad those are illegal now.”
“You and the New Zealand Ministry of Health.” Ada pulls her vape from her pocket. “I’ll go shower. What time do you want to leave to see your folks?”
I check my watch. It’s just after eight, but I know my parents have already been up for hours. “Is nine okay? When are you seeing yours?”
“They said to just show up whenever. Can I still borrow the car?”
“Sure.”
Ada’s parents live further out of town, whereas mine are still in the bungalow they bought when they were first married, and it’s within walking distance of the hotel.
I take Ada’s advice and finish my double breakfast. Iama lightweight, and I’ve lost many an outfit to pinot noir. When I’m done eating, I go over to the hotel wardrobe and admire my golden ballgown on its hanger. My dress for the cocktail party tonight isn’t nearly as exciting, but it’s classy, a sleeveless black minidress with a round neckline that makes my boobs sit up like two scoops of ice cream. I brush my hand over my chest, hopeful that Will Sharpe has a craving for dessert-shaped tits.
“You’re gonna look great,” Ada says from behind me. “You sure you wanna waste that gold dress on Will Not-So-Sharpe?”
Davis’s face flickers through my mind and I force myself to imagine Will catching sightof me in my ballgown and taking my hand. That’s the whole point of this weekend. It’s what I’m here for. That was my decision.
