by Alice Raine
The voice caused my mind to move away from the sickening dreams as reality slowly began to filter in. ‘Allie? Wake up, babe.’ I became aware of hands on my shoulders shaking me awake, causing the sick fantasies to evaporate as the battered mattress below me once again began poking me with its aged springs.
It was just a dream. Ugh. But a horribly vivid one. Swallowing hard, I sucked in a breath as I tried to force their remnants from my mind’s eye. At least I hoped it was just a dream. Ugh. Swallowing down the urge to throw up, I pushed the lingering images of Savannah to the side of my mind as I felt the soft, warm hand on my shoulder give another gentle shake.
‘Allie, are you awake? Too much sleep will make your jet lag worse,’ the familiar voice informed me as I blinked my bleary eyes. It took me a second or two for my stomach to stop churning and I breathed in several deep, cleansing breaths to try and speed up the process. Drawing in another breath, I opened my eyes wide, rubbed a hand over my face, and slowly sat up, immediately banging my head on the bunk above me and wincing.
‘Ugh … actually, we might already be a bit late. Crikey, you look rough,’ Cait said from beside me, her head cocked curiously as she examined me with a searching look so amusing that it managed to elicit a small, dry chuckle from me. Gingerly rubbing at my bruised head, I tried to smooth down my bed hair, my fingers becoming tangled in the long strands until I gave up and limply dropped my arms back into my lap with a heavy sigh.
‘Hi, Cait.’ My voice was croaky and sore from the tears I’d cried earlier, which as well as giving me a dodgy throat had probably made me look pretty dreadful too. I’d fallen into a troubled slumber with tears rolling from my eyes before I’d had a chance to wash off my make up or sort myself out, so I no doubt looked like death warmed up at the moment.
‘Well, my initial urge was to leap around gleefully because you’re finally here … but having got a look at you, I’m reconsidering. You look like you might snap in half if I so much as hug you,’ she said, still analysing me as if I were some curious and newly discovered specimen. ‘So … why do you look so wretched, and why are you here? At the hostel, I mean.’
She didn’t beat around the bush, did she? I’d barely woken up, and I was facing an inquisition already. Mind you, I couldn’t blame Cait; I would be just as curious if I had found her in the state I was in.
‘I thought you were staying with Sean,’ she added thoughtfully.
Sean. I hated how pathetic the mere mention of him made me, but no sooner had Cait uttered that name than I let out a low groan and felt my bottom lip begin to tremble. I wasn’t usually much of a crier, so this complete loss of control over my tear ducts today was decidedly annoying.
With an impatient grunt I stood up and ran my hands almost violently over my face to try and snap myself out of my wretched state. ‘It’s a long story,’ I said. ‘Well … long-ish,’ I corrected. In actuality, it wasn’t so long at all, was it? Sean was engaged to his co-star – or some peculiar set up where in the eyes of the world he was, anyway – and I wasn’t prepared to be a part of it. That summary made it seem quite a short story. Not to mention bone-jarringly depressing.
Shaking away my dark thoughts, I stepped toward Cait’s slim, lithe frame and pulled her into a fierce hug. I did this for two reasons: firstly, I desperately needed the comfort of a hug, but secondly, it was a good way to break eye contact and stop her giving me such a penetrating assessment. The familiar smell of my best friend’s perfume was infinitely reassuring though, and I felt a little of my usual spunk returning as her warmth seeped into my chilled body. There were many good reasons why this girl was one of my best friends, and her quiet composure and strength in times of need was one of them.
‘I don’t suppose there’s a good bar around here, is there? I could do with drowning my sorrows and using you as a sounding post.’
Leaning back, I watched Cait as she observed me with narrowed eyes. Her gaze was full of curiosity and unasked questions, and I could tell she was trying to work out what was going on but was just too polite to force it. Being quite a private person, Cait never needlessly pried into other people’s business, but I could see that even she was tempted to push me and ask me to spill the beans. The problem was, there was a high chance that I was going to cry, and the only way to lessen that possibility was to get a bit of liquid courage inside me first.
Seeing my resolute features, she finally relented and nodded. ‘As a matter of fact, there is. I could use a drink too, I’ve had a pretty crazy day myself.’ Before I could ask why, Cait glanced at her watch and then grinned. ‘And if we hurry we’ll catch the start of happy hour. We’ll need to smarten up, though, it’s a pretty exclusive place.’ Snorting out a laugh, she rolled her eyes, ‘Mind you, this is LA, they’re all pretty exclusive places!’
Smart clothes … right, I could do that. Swivelling back to my suitcase, I whipped the zip around and dug about for my wash bag and a suitable change of clothes, quickly selecting a navy, knee-length cocktail dress with a pattern of tiny white flowers and a pair of blue heels. I loved this dress, and it should be more than appropriate for a night of drinking in a posh establishment. ‘Let me freshen up, I must look a right state.’
‘Hmmm,’ was Cait’s thoughtful response as she obviously continued to try and work out exactly why I was a soggy, tear-stained mess, but I left her hanging. She’d know the whole sordid story soon enough, so it may as well be when I was looking a bit more refreshed and had a strong drink in my hand.
When I arrived back from a quick wash, I found Cait had changed into a smart pair of black trousers, a teal, long-sleeved top, and some funky high heels as she stood beside one of the wooden lockers, nodding happily.
‘It took a bit of effort, but I managed to fit your case in,’ she announced proudly, jerking her chin at a locker which was now crammed full of my belongings. ‘It’s almost embarrassing, Allie, no self-respecting traveller brings a bloody suitcase. You need a backpack.’
I felt like making a comment about the fact that probably not many ‘real’ backpackers would be carrying a pair of designer high heels like the ones she was wearing, but I kept quiet. Seeing how Cait was usually so reserved and nervous around men she never really got that dressed up or exposed much skin, so it was nice to see her wearing the flashy shoes. Besides, the suitcase was hardly my fault, I hadn’t exactly been intending on doing too much moving around.
But instead of mentioning any of this, I just rolled my eyes and chucked my wash bag and discarded clothes on top of the case before sliding a coin in the locker slot and slamming the door shut.
‘Whatever. We haven’t all been swanning around the world for the best part of three years like you, Cait,’ I retorted with a grin, linking my hand around her elbow and turning for the door. It was time to escape the Hollywood Heartbreaker’s Hangout, even if just for a few hours.
‘This bar does the best cocktails,’ Cait said as our high-heeled feet clicked off the main drag of Hollywood Boulevard and onto what seemed to be a residential side street. Walking a few more steps, I realised we were approaching what could only be described as a very eccentric wooden house. It didn’t look much like a bar at first either, but as we got closer I saw it was adorned with fairy lights and complete with cherry red leather Chesterfield couches on either side of the front steps.
My eyebrows rose significantly. Blimey. What a quirky place – a beautiful, retro-looking building, complete with bay windows that reminded me of the Victorian-style houses I loved at home. It almost looked like part of a film set, a view further enhanced when I saw the sign displaying its name: No Vacancy.
‘Wow … this place is incredible,’ I murmured, my mind momentarily distracted from thoughts of my problems as we walked through the front door and entered the beautiful, wood-panelled entryway. There were a few other customers inside, loitering around the bar or seated in one of the various groups of plush sofas, but seeing as it was still early, the bar was empty enough for me to easily gaze around in awe.
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br /> ‘I thought you’d like it. I know you love a bit of history.’ Leading me towards the bar, Cait slid a cocktail menu towards me and climbed up onto one of the tall, red leather bar stools. She sat with a rod-straight back, as always, and looked every bit as elegant as her surroundings in her fancy shoes, with her chestnut hair flowing down her back.
‘Apparently Charlie Chaplin used to own this place when it was just a home.’
Cait was pointing to a part of the menu that had the history of the bar on it, but I got side-tracked by a sore-looking patch of skin on her thumb. ‘Hey, what’s this?’ I asked, my protective tone immediately coming to the surface.
Pausing in her conversation, I saw Cait glancing down at her thumb and cringing at the trace of blood on the poor skin around the nail. Damn it, I’d thought she’d stopped this habit.
Back when things with her ex had started to get weird, Cait had begun to subconsciously pick her thumbs so much that they’d been red raw, even bleeding on occasion, like today. One day at school we’d been in the staffroom and I’d noticed and tentatively commented on it., sShe hadn’t confessed her exact worries, but I’d guessed it had been to do with her then- boyfriend, Greg. He was a manipulating bastard –, worse than manipulative, – and I’d hated him from the start.
Shrugging, Cait’s eyes flashed to mine guiltily. ‘I don’t do it that much any more,’ she started defensively, causing me to raise one eyebrow high. Pulling back her sleeve she showed me her wrist, and I saw two small elastic bands. One yellow, one green.
‘My therapist suggested these bands. Instead of picking my thumbs, I give them a quick ping when I’m anxious. The sting is usually enough to help focus my mind.’
Oh. Well, I supposed that seemed like a suitable method of control, even if it did still involve inflicting pain on herself. ‘What’s the significance of the colours?’
Smiling, Cait fingered the two small bands. ‘Nothing. They were the only elastic bands I could find at the time.’
‘So why the red skin on your thumb?’ I asked with concern, because from the small trace of blood it was obvious that she had been picking. ‘Why not pluck the elastic?’
Looking self-conscious, Cait shrugged again. ‘I dunno, really.’ But the flush in Cait’s cheeks said otherwise, so I raised an eyebrow to spur her to elaborate. ‘I had a weird start to the day … and then some job interviews, so that was all a bit stressful, and something reminded me of Greg which is never good, then to top it all off I got your message about you being at the hostel and I was worried. I guess I still do it sometimes without realising.’
Smiling sympathetically, I felt my heart give a tug for my friend. She was so brave going off travelling after everything she’d been through, but even though she’d been determined that the incident with Greg wouldn’t ruin her life, the emotional scars he’d left were clearly still affecting her.
‘What do you mean you had a weird start to the day?’
Her blush deepened, but she adamantly shook her head, her hazel hair drifting around her face like a veil. ‘It was nothing important. Anyway, tonight is for you. What do you think about this place?’ Whatever it was, she clearly didn’t want to discuss it so I let the subject drop and looked around the room again before nodding. I was seriously impressed, and quickly became even more so when I got a glance at the cocktails on the very extensive, and very tempting, menu. This was perfect – and exactly what I needed. Once our drinks were ordered, a barman with an impressively bristly handlebar moustache set about preparing them, flinging the cocktail shaker around, spinning it, bouncing it, and showing off in an attempt to entertain us, which worked a treat.
Once we had our colourful beverages in hand, Cait led me away from the main bar into a second, even quieter, room and we slid onto a red leather sofa side by side.
After taking a sip of my drink I sighed appreciatively at the cool, delicious fruitiness. It had quite a kick to it too, I realised, as I felt a pleasant buzz settle in my throat and quickly warm my stomach.
‘Come on then, there’s only so much my patience can take. Spill the beans, what’s happened?’
With a sigh I placed my drink down and gently gripped the stem of the glass in an attempt to keep my fraying emotions in check. Swivelling it several times as a distraction to my tumbling stomach, I pursed my lips and gave Cait a recap of my morning, right from my heated, lust-fuelled reunion with Sean in the back of his car, to his weak reasons for me needing to stay in a hotel, and finally finishing with my discovery of the newspaper article about his engagement to Savannah and his lame reasons for it.
Sitting back with a huffed breath I looked to Cait and saw her gawking at me, her cocktail raised halfway to her mouth and frozen mid-sip. ‘Engaged?’ she whispered almost theatrically, to which I scrunched up my face and nodded.
‘Although according to Sean it’s not real.’
‘Blimey. I vaguely try and keep up with celebrity gossip, but I haven’t seen a thing about that,’ she pondered thoughtfully, before her cheeks flushed and she gave me an odd look. ‘And you had sex in the back of his car?’ she whispered in a tone which, although shocked, also sounded marginally curious. But then she blinked rapidly, her lashes fluttering like butterfly wings before she shook her head, looking embarrassed as her cheeks flooded with colour. ‘That just slipped out, it’s hardly the most important issue at hand, sorry, Allie … I lost my focus for a second there.’
Snorting out a dry grunt I rolled my eyes and sipped my drink. ‘Yeah, it was a first for me, actually,’ I admitted sadly, wondering if the car would be the last time I ever got to experience something new with Sean.
‘Let’s get back on track and see what we can find out.’ Placing her glass on the table with a decisive bang, Cait began digging through her handbag before pulling out a mini iPad and flipping open the turquoise cover. My eyebrows rose in surprise, and even under the current circumstances I found myself laughing wryly.
‘I thought you were some poor, hard-up traveller?’ She flashed me a grin and went back to her task of opening up an internet search. ‘I have two luxuries: a nice outfit to go out in,’ she said, ‘and my iPad.’ Narrowing her eyes, she typed something on the screen and sat back while it loaded. ‘Besides, I might stay in hostels from time to time, but I do work, Allie. I’m not that hard-up.’ She finished with a fond smile as she turned her attention to the iPad.
Her fingers began speeding across the screen, face intent and focused. Placing the iPad on the table Cait then sat back and rolled her shoulders to straighten her posture before turning to me. ‘So, you want me to go through it? Or shall we leave it?’
As tempting as it might be to avoid all things Sean and simply drink myself into a blissful cocktail oblivion, I needed to know if there was any substance to the supposed engagement rumours. Drawing in a deep breath I steeled myself for an unpleasant few minutes to come and nodded. ‘I need to know. What does it say?’ At that moment a waiter poked his head around the door, eyeing our half-depleted glasses. ‘Another round, girls?’ he enquired with a bright smile.
‘Yes please. We have a personal trauma on our hands so keep ‘em coming, I’ll start a tab,’ Cait instructed him in a serious tone as she characteristically avoided all eye contact with him, but then downed the last swig of her drink and waggled the glass in the air.
‘You want me to mix in a few shots for you too?’ he asked with a surprisingly sympathetic look on his face.
‘Hell yes,’ I announced with a watery smile. ‘No tequila though, please.’ Years of drinking had proved time after time that tequila was not the drink for me – it made me veeery ill in the most unpleasant of ways, and always led to hangovers that seemed to seep straight from the bowels of hell. With a nod, he was off, leaving me to turn back to the iPad with a sense of heavy trepidation settling in my stomach. ‘OK, give it to me.’
The tip of her tongue poked out in concentration as she scrolled through the search results before bringing up an article from just
over three weeks ago. Leaning across, I scanned the article with her. Along with the text there was a picture which made my heart constrict painfully in my chest; Sean, dressed in black jeans, a fitted white T-shirt, and looking tanned and unfairly handsome, was at the centre of a group of eight people walking along a pavement. It was dark and none of them were looking at the camera, so I could only assume that they were on a night out when the picture had been captured.
The painful part of the image was Savannah, though. One of her tanned arms was firmly gripped around Sean’s waist while the other was pressed into the centre of his chest, her blood red nails standing out proud against the white of his shirt and making me want to pluck them out one by one with a pair of pliers.
Closing my eyes I took a second to stabilise myself and then opened them again, chewing painfully on my lower lip. Even walking along the bloody street she was all over him – it couldn’t have been a comfortable position to walk in, but she was still managing it, as if laying a claim on him. Bitch. So many expletives ran through my mind that I had to forcibly roll my lips together to stop myself having a meltdown.
‘He’s frowning, and he’s not got his arm around her, so maybe she’s just trying her luck,’ Cait pointed out. ‘Let’s see what it says …’ We both fell silent for a second as we skimmed the article, which was fairly sparse in details and didn’t really tell me anything new, apart from one interesting fact – Savannah had been the one to announce the engagement, on her own. Sean hadn’t even been present when she’d made a statement at some public event she had attended.
Interesting. That didn’t seem like the usual behaviour of a happy, love-struck couple, did it? Perhaps Sean was telling the truth.
A bitter taste rose in my throat. It might all be pomp for the public, which I still needed to be convinced of, but regardless of whether or not it was fake, I’d been in regular contact with Sean since he’d been over here – since Savannah had made her announcement – giving him more than enough opportunities to tell me about it, but he’d chosen to hide it from me. That hurt more than I could even comprehend at the moment.
