‘Maybe I’ll go for lavender,’ she thought, deciding that ‘out with the old and in with the new’ summed up her life quite perfectly right now.
“Bathroom’s free,” Elodie called when she was done. She noticed Steph’s arrival by the large overnight bag and bottle of Champagne that had been placed on the dining table. Steph appeared from Carla’s room moments later, apologising and pointing to her phone.
“Sorry, sorry. Andy had a free half- hour so he rang, we haven’t spoken voice to voice in over a week.” She smiled a dreamy smile and then, catching Carla’s raised eyebrow, added, “No more boys, though, just us girls tonight.”
This seemed to satiate Carla’s desire for female- focused festivities. She nodded her approval and then expertly popped the cork from the Champagne; it exploded from the bottle with a loud pop.
“Here’s to the single life, fabulous jobs and a boyfriend with half an hour free,” Carla said cheekily.
The three friends clinked glasses and each, in turn, drank deeply. Elodie felt the first flushes of fizz begin to sweep over her and smiled.
‘This is going to be a great night,’ she thought to herself excitedly.
“Come on then, let’s see you.” Steph’s voice called from the living room. Elodie was still in her bedroom, not quite feeling brave enough to come out. Carla had done her hair and makeup and looking at her reflection now, Elodie wasn’t sure if it wasn’t all a bit much. She had dark eye makeup and her long eyelashes had been curled and finished with lashings of deepest black mascara. Elodie’s long, burnt- umber locks had been teased into waves that had then been backcombed to attain what Carla described as ‘spectacular volume’. Elodie patted the crown of her head in an effort to rein it in ever so slightly. Carla’s last words to her before she set to work were: “Trust me, I’m a genius.” Elodie didn’t doubt Carla’s makeup skills; however, it seemed as though her friend had failed to recognise that they did both have vastly different styles.
Elodie turned around and gave herself another once- over and thought that maybe she just needed a couple more drinks in order to pull it off. She did love the dress and the heels were so comfortable – well, for the moment, at least. Elodie owned just one pair of heels high enough to satisfy Carla’s exacting standards of what you were allowed to wear on a night out. They were black, open- toed stilettos that up until now had only ever been out of their box on one other occasion. Elodie shuddered as she remembered the night Tom had insisted she wore them in the bedroom for him. She hadn’t wanted to but had done so anyway. He’d loved it, she hadn’t. It was the story of their life, really.
“El? Are you coming or what?” Carla shouted.
Elodie thought she heard a slight slur to her words and had to smile: Carla really was, in the words of Betty, a law unto herself. Elodie pushed her bedroom door open and with trepidation, stepped into the living room.
“Give us a twirl, then,” Carla said, pointing her finger and spinning it around.
Elodie obliged and, for added measure, gave them a pretty good impression of a catwalk model. She strutted down the length of the living room and when she reached the end struck a pose that she hoped came across as sexy and cool. It didn’t. She stumbled and had to catch herself on the table to stop herself from crashing to the floor. She looked up sheepishly and laughed.
“Maybe I need a bit more practice in the shoes,” she reasoned.
Carla and Steph were all dressed and ready to go, Steph had elected to wear a very elegant but rather conservative black dress. Her straight red hair had been tied back in a low, chic ponytail and she had accessorised the look with a selection of gold jewellery. Carla, on the other hand, occupied the opposite end of the style spectrum. Her wild hair had been pulled on top of her head in a stylish knot, which was surrounded by a very complicated- looking plait.
“Carla! Your hair looks amazing.” Elodie couldn’t help but blurt out appreciatively.
“Thanks. Took me forever, though,” Carla replied, casually flicking her hair over her shoulder.
Elodie highly doubted that. Carla seemed to have an incredible knack for this kind of thing; complicated techniques always seemed to come easy to her. Elodie had often asked why Carla didn’t do something with this skill but Carla always said she was destined to be in front of cameras, not behind them.
“Let’s have a toast,” Steph suggested, handing out freshly filled glasses. “To friendship, freedom and a whole lot of fun.”
They cheered their agreement and clinked glasses, not for the first time that evening. The music they had been enjoying cut out as Carla’s phone began to ring: it was the taxi driver phoning out of courtesy and giving them a five- minute curtain- call.
“Right, girls, this is it,” Carla said once she had hung up the phone. “Remember your ID, bankcard, lip- gloss and bail money,” she finished, laughing.
Elodie downed the last of her drink and picked up her bag; she had packed it and repacked it three times that evening. She was extremely out of practice when it came to ‘night out’ necessities and didn’t want to hold everyone up at the last minute.
“You got the keys?” Elodie asked Carla as they exited the flat. Carla held up her set of house keys and jangled them.
“Sure do,” she answered. “You both ready?”
Elodie nodded and took a deep breath, feeling as though the few short steps out of the flat and into the taxi were the biggest and most important steps she had taken in a long time.
Chapter 7
The bar Carla had chosen was unlike any venue Elodie had ever been in before. The entrance was hidden down a side street behind a black, foreboding, bolted door; stood outside was a smartly dressed blonde woman with blood- red lipstick wearing a headset and holding a clipboard. A tall, dark- haired man who had a James Bond kind of vibe about him and a very serious expression on his face accompanied her. As the three friends approached, the woman smiled curtly and asked for their names, which Carla gave in a business- like fashion that was quite alien to her personality. The woman moved her pen down the list in front of her and held it still about halfway down. She pressed a button on the side of her headset and repeated their names and party size. There was silence for a moment and then the woman nodded to her partner who in turn opened the heavy black door and ushered them inside.
Elodie shared a nervous glance with Steph. Carla may have been used to places like this but they certainly weren’t. The bar itself was an amalgamation of luxury, indulgence and extravagance. Private booths were dotted around, some shielded by beaded curtains and others protected by high, intricately- carved dividers. It was dark inside with minimal lighting, which Elodie assumed was to provide even more secrecy for the guests. Candles had been placed around, which cast dancing shadows across the walls and added to the exclusive ambience of the place. Elodie looked around. The bar wasn’t exactly quiet but it was far from the overcrowded multitude of revellers she had imagined when they’d left the flat. There were three men at the bar, drinking and talking in hushed tones. They stopped and looked up as Elodie passed and she caught the eye of the youngest of the three. He was a good- looking guy with dark features and a sharp, expensive- looking suit. He offered her a smile and fixed her with an admiring stare. Elodie looked away guiltily. She didn’t want to encourage anyone of the opposite sex tonight; after all, this was an evening just for the girls.
They were shown to a small round table situated in a quiet corner. The hostess pulled back the beaded curtain and led them through. It seemed quieter at the table, the hum of the music deadened somewhat by their position. Elodie perched on the edge of the padded circular bench that surrounded the table and placed her order with the hostess, she ordered a Cosmopolitan, Steph requested an Aperol Spritz and Carla asked for an Old Fashioned. The hostess committed these to memory, smiled and sauntered back to the bar.
“He’s hot,” Carla said, as if reading Elodie’s mi
nd. She tried to feign ignorance but Carla was having none of it. “I can read you like a book, El. I see you glancing in the guy’s direction every time you think we’re not looking.”
Elodie opened her mouth; sometimes she hated the fact that Carla knew her so well.
“I’m not at all,” she answered defiantly. “OK, maybe I am a bit, but he’s really handsome and I’ve not been allowed to look at another guy for forever.”
“You don’t have to justify it to us,” Steph interrupted. “There’s no harm in looking and, Elodie, try and remember that you’re single now. You’re allowed to look. Tom isn’t here to kick off and Carla and I would love to see you with someone nice.”
“I don’t want to be with anyone right now,” Elodie admitted, “and I’m not hung up on Tom anymore, I promise.”
“Good,” Carla said, interrupting. “The only person you should be hung up on right now is yourself.”
Elodie nodded; she was in complete agreement with Carla on this. She ran her fingertips through the ends of her hair but despite her protestations that the single life was the only one she wanted, she couldn’t help but notice that the man from the bar was looking at her again. Elodie shifted in her seat a little uncomfortably and turned her head slightly away from the man. Fortunately, the arrival of their drinks saved her from having to administer any other little falsities. By the time the waitress had handed their drinks over, asked them if there was anything else they needed and gone, Elodie had clean forgotten about the man at the bar. When she did eventually look up from their conversation, both he and his friends had gone.
‘Pity, he was quite nice to look at,’ Elodie thought as she sipped her Cosmopolitan. The bartender had created an absolute masterpiece and Elodie was enjoying each and every sip, perhaps a little too much because she finished her drink in record time. Carla still had half of her Old Fashioned left and Steph still had most of her cocktail.
“Take it steady, El,” Steph said. “We’ve got all night and you don’t exactly have a liver of steel, do you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Elodie asked, looking faux- affronted.
“You’re a total fucking lightweight,” Carla interjected, laughing and knocking back the rest of her drink in an effort to show that she wasn’t a lightweight at all.
Elodie couldn’t argue: she’d often been called a cheap date. Her absolute limit on a night out was four or five drinks, and that was if she’d eaten and didn’t drink too quickly. She made a mental note to order something a little less delicious next time. ‘Perhaps I’ll even have a soft drink,” she thought and then dismissed the idea as quickly as it had formed.
Elodie settled into her new, high- class surroundings very quickly. After an hour she no longer felt like someone who had accidentally found themselves at a party they hadn’t been invited to and started to feel more comfortable. They ordered another round of drinks once Steph had finally finished hers. This time they elected for a bottle of Prosecco. Carla had desperately wanted Champagne, but when they had had a look at the drinks menu they decided that a day’s wages for a bottle of fizz just wasn’t worth it, so Prosecco it was.
“It tastes the same anyway,” Steph said with an authoritative tone in her voice. She had been the one to put her foot down. Carla gave her a withering look and told her that it only tasted the same to idiots.
“Well I’m an idiot then, and so is Elodie because she agrees with me,” Steph said calmly, returning Carla’s withering look with one of triumph.
“Don’t drag me into your lovers’ tiff, I like both equally,” Elodie said diplomatically.
This seemed to appease both of her friends because the conversation quickly turned back to normal. They chatted about anything and everything; the Prosecco slipped down easily and they became slightly more raucous. Carla’s infectious laugh echoed around the room and the three friends had to rein themselves in more than once; they were, after all, in the most exclusive bar in the entire city. Elodie had never been in a place like it. She felt like a rock star.
“Ladies?” the pretty waitress who had served them earlier said as she walked over with another round of drinks. This time she carried a bottle of the bar’s overly priced Champagne on an expensive- looking copper- flecked tray; the gold of the bottle reflected dazzlingly in the candlelight. The Champagne, unlike the Prosecco, was served in saucers and not flutes.
“Oh, we didn’t order this,” Elodie said, her words laced with panic. She definitely didn’t want to be landed with the bill for this.
“I know,” the waitress replied loftily. “The gentlemen in the Grosvenor Suite did.”
“The Grosvenor Suite?” Elodie asked, still not quite understanding what was going on. Surely if the gentlemen in the Grosvenor Suite had ordered it then the gentlemen in the Grosvenor Suite should be the ones drinking it.
“Get there faster, Elodie,” Carla said exasperatedly, helping herself to a saucer of Champagne from the tray. “They’ve bought this for us.” She turned the golden bottle around so that the label was facing her and let out a low whistle. “Armand de Brignac. Wow!” she finished, clearly impressed with their choice. The men had sent over a bottle of the bar’s most expensive Champagne.
“This stuff was almost five hundred pounds a bottle,” Elodie said, gobsmacked. “It’s top of the menu. Although I kinda just wish they’d given us the cash instead.”
“Me too,” Steph agreed, looking at the bottle as if it contained the secret to life and not Champagne.
“I don’t,” Carla said defiantly. “If they want to buy us this, then that’s their prerogative. Come on then, girls, shall we?” Carla handed the bottle back to the waitress who expertly poured it and then set it in a nearby ice bucket before taking her leave.
Carla raised the delicately- cut saucer high in the air: “To men with more money than sense.”
Steph and Elodie echoed her words and all three of them sipped the Champagne at the same time. Elodie felt as though she had gone to heaven; the crisp amber liquid was definitely not the same as Prosecco.
Strutting across the bar Elodie felt on top of the world, she felt a confidence exude from her that she hadn’t felt for years, if ever. So far the evening had been perfect and, with their new friends in tow, promised to get even better. One of the Champagne- bequeathing gentlemen had sent a message to them through the waitress, inviting them to join them in their suite. Steph hadn’t been keen at first, but when she found out the Grosvenor Suite was actually a private room with complimentary bar, even she couldn’t argue against joining them. The waitress led the way, her blonde ponytail swishing from side to side as she walked. Elodie could barely contain her excitement; she felt as though she were about to meet royalty and, despite being quite certain that she was in no way, shape or form ready to start dating again, thought that just being in the company of an attractive man, a little bit of tipsy flirting, couldn’t do any harm.
They walked across the length of the bar, the soft music drowning out the sound of their stilettos on the highly- polished parquet flooring and after what seemed like an age were presented with the door to the Grosvenor Suite. A dark wooden sign with the words embossed in gold leaf hung proudly above the heavy- looking door. Elodie felt a little chill of excitement course through her as the waitress pushed it open to reveal the sumptuous interior. The sight almost took Elodie’s breath away. Never had she imagined that the room would be this vast. It stretched out for metres and had a private bathroom at one end, a bar at the other and, in the centre, an expertly crafted and extremely large circular booth made from one whole piece of highly polished copper with a high back that shielded its occupants. The Grosvenor Suite had been decorated in the bar’s signature look, yet somehow this room seemed to boast even more luxury. Perhaps it was the enormous chandelier, which emitted a soft iridescent glow and boasted more glittering crystals than any Swarovski store Elodie had ever been in. Sh
e stepped inside fully and held her hand out, which was immediately held by Steph; she too was in complete awe of their surroundings.
“We don’t belong here,” Steph whispered to Elodie who nodded in agreement.
Carla, who had been bringing up the rear, heard Steph’s comment and shot them a warning look that seemed to say: “If I say we belong here, we belong here!”
“Here we are,” the blonde waitress said, turning around to them and gesturing to the room in which they now stood. “The Grosvenor is paid for in advance, everything is complimentary. This is our mixologist, Grant. He’ll be here to take care of you all evening; whatever your heart desires, Grant will be happy to acquiesce. There’s a private bathroom just over there, inside you’ll find everything you could possibly want, including an array of sample scents and cosmetics.” She gave them a warm smile and left the room. The door closed softly behind her.
“Well don’t just stand gawping,” Carla admonished. Brushing herself down and giving her hair a bit of a tousle, she stepped forward. She headed over to the booth with such confidence and self- assurance that Elodie couldn’t help but feel slightly envious of Carla’s conviction in herself. Carla flipped her hair over her shoulder one last time and disappeared around the side of the booth. Elodie and Steph shared one final ‘now or never’ look and headed after her in a slightly less demure but altogether more enthusiastic way.
The three men in the Grosvenor Suite happened to be the same three men that had been propping up the bar earlier. After introductions Elodie discovered that the youngest and considerably more raucous of the three men was called Adam; his broad- shouldered friend Chase looked to be about ten years his senior and Edward older still. Elodie put Chase at thirty- five and Edward at forty or so. They all seemed nice enough. Adam, although very good- looking, was a little full of himself and talked non- stop about how crazy his life was, all the places he’d visited and the people he’d met.
Chasing Clouds Page 12
