Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 116999 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 585(@200wpm)___ 468(@250wpm)___ 390(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116999 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 585(@200wpm)___ 468(@250wpm)___ 390(@300wpm)
Huh. I wasn’t lying about my distaste for parties yet, weirdly, I’m looking forward to going out tonight. Thanks for getting older, Stan.
Chapter Five
Laurence
Despite the popular phrase, I’ve never actually seen a deer in the headlights in real life. Until tonight. Arriving at Stan’s house, William and I have just stepped out of the limo that Stan sent for me. I thank the driver and jog round to meet William on his side. For a moment, I just stare at him while he stares at the house. His lips part just a little, the edges sticking together. I’m sure I look at them, study how plump they are, for far too long.
Eventually, my gaze starts to follow William’s. “I suppose it is quite impressive.” It’s sad really, how numb I’ve become to this stuff.
“You suppose?” he says, eyes refusing to leave the building. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Not in real life, at least. Makes Andrew Cobbe’s house look like a tin shack.”
He makes me chuckle.
I hear his breath catch. “Shit.” He turns sharply to face me. “S-sorry. I didn’t mean-”
“Don’t worry. He cannae hear you,” I say, still laughing.
William, however, doesn’t even break a smile. He’s nervous, I think, his thumb clinging onto his ring finger like it will snap off if he doesn’t, and I suspect it isn’t just down to the modern white mansion. Ahead, guests are pouring into the house under the glass porch roof. Some are mingling outside, illuminated by the spotlights that flood the sides of the building walls.
“That’s not…” William starts to speak after what feels like minutes. His eyes narrow, neck cranes. “Is that Hugo Hayes? The singer?”
I look for myself and spot Hugo and his partner, Helen, chatting to a group of people by the porch. “Aye. He’s doing a set later, I believe.”
“Holy shit, Lucy is never going to forgive me.”
Lucy. Ah. “Your daughter, right?” I remember almost instantly.
William nods.
“I can introduce you? Bet he’d do a video message for her.”
“You know him?” He rolls his eyes as soon as he’s finished talking. “Of course you know him.”
“I’ve met him. Wouldnae say I know him. Celebrities don’t all know each other, you know. Do you know every electrician listed on Google?”
Now he smiles. “Of course. We all have to line up and shake hands before they’ll grant us our qualification.”
“Come on,” I say, clapping his back. “We can’t stand here all night.” I start walking, and grin when I hear William drag in a deep breath before he follows.
We’ve barely made three steps when I feel a tap on my shoulder. “She was in Game of Thrones.” His breath is hot in my ear. It makes my heart race. I don’t look for whoever he’s talking about.
“This way,” is all I say, cocking my head towards the entrance.
“Shitting hell, I’m majorly underdressed,” I hear him mutter a moment later.
I stop in my tracks, roughing up a patch of gravel. I know what he looks like, but I don’t hesitate to take him in again. His clothes are new, bought for tonight I expect. He hasn’t ironed out the fold marks in his shirt, but they’re pretty well hidden beneath the navy blazer he’s coupled it with. Personally, I’d pop open an extra buttonhole and expose an inch more of his chest, but I don’t know if that would be for his benefit or mine. Finally, I wonder if he had a store assistant style the blazer with the stone trousers and leather loafers or if he’s a man of good style. “You look great.”
“How much did your outfit cost?” His gaze sweeps the floor, embarrassed. I don’t like it.
About four grand. If anyone should be embarrassed it’s me. Us. Everyone here parading around in material that does the same job as William’s but at ungodly prices. Prices we don’t even blink at anymore. Prices that make William feel less than. “Honestly, I have no idea.” I need to move this along. Distract him. Show him some fun. “Let’s find the alcohol.”
Inside, I’m accosted by an inebriated Stan. “Started the party early, huh?” I say, raising my voice above the music being pumped through the house while falling into his one-armed hug.
“This guy,” he yells to the room, “This guy is my best fucking friend. Laurence Cole, everybody!”
People cheer. I laugh, take a bow. “Happy birthday, pal.”
“It is a happy birthday.” His words are sloppy before he takes another sip from his champagne flute. “Mariaaa!” He calls over my shoulder, attention on someone else. “Maria, everyone…Maria is my best fucking friend!”
I turn my head, check William is still with me, and carry on towards the bar that’s been set up at the back of the house. The back of Stan’s mansion is mostly glass, framing the stunning view of the countryside that goes on for miles in the daylight. Now, as darkness sets, the windows and open doors give way to the vast illuminated gardens, shrubs and trees. There is a tended bar established under a purpose-built gazebo on the expansive patio, but several servers also wander throughout the house and grounds offering drinks and nibbles, so I grab two flutes from one of those.