‘Wait – where are your friends?’ Leo asks. ‘Are they still coming?’
I peer over towards the bar and spot Peach and Gavin deep in conversation. The tequila shots must have worked! Peach is laughing at something Gavin’s saying, her hand rubbing his forearm. Ha! I might just leave those too alone a little longer – they’re clearly managing just fine without me.
‘They’re here – they must be in the crowd somewhere!’ I say innocently. ‘I’m sure they’ll catch up with us later.’
We take our seats and Leo pops open one of the many bottles of vintage champagne that are sitting in huge buckets on each table. He pours everyone a glass and clears his throat to make a toast. But before he can get a word out, his dad interrupts, his exceedingly plummy tones blasting across the table like a foghorn.
‘Here’s to a win for Woolf Frost,’ Rufus drawls, holding his glass up to the centre of the table.
‘And Leo,’ I add, before I can stop myself.
Oops. I didn’t mean to blurt that. But something about his dad just winds me up big-time. Especially now I know how he betrayed his own son. Rufus Frost sneers a little and reluctantly agrees with my correction in a bored voice. ‘Yes, of course . . . And to Leo.’
Leo gives me a pleased wink. ‘Cheers, guys!’
‘Cheers!’
I drink my champagne, the sweet buoyant bubbles lightly dancing on my tongue. To my surprise I don’t entirely dislike the taste of it tonight.
I take another sip.
Am I . . . Am I starting to get a taste for vintage champagne? Shit, am I now part of the champagne conspiracy?
God, what is happening to me?
Perhaps I shouldn’t have advised Peach that a tequila shot to loosen her and Postman Gavin up was a good idea. Because they clearly haven’t limited themselves to just one each. Our table is having a very sensible conversation about the work of all the other nominees, when Peach finally leaves the bar, dragging Gavin over by the arm. I can tell just by looking at her that she’s pissed – she can barely walk in a straight line and her blinks are lasting longer than usual. Shit.
‘LUCILLE!’ she calls with a totally hammy wink. ‘There you are. And this must be Leeeeeooooo. Luscious Leo.’
Oh, Jesus. How many shots has she had? Gavin’s cheeks are flushed and shiny, his bow tie already undone and hanging limply round his neck. They can’t have had that many, surely? We’ve only been here for fifty minutes.
‘Good evening, kind sirs and ladies,’ Gavin says with a weird old-fashioned bow. Crap, how many shots has Postman Gavin had?
Balls.
Leo laughs. ‘Peach and Gavin, right?’ He stands up to kiss Peach on the cheek and shake Gavin’s hand warmly. ‘I’m so glad you guys could make it.’
‘It’s a party . . . in a church!’ Peach giggles, using her hand to cover a burp. She reaches over and takes one of the bottles of champagne off the table. ‘Is . . . is this free?’ she asks, already popping it open, the cork whizzing precariously close to Rufus Frost’s ear.
‘It is,’ Leo replies, grabbing a couple of glasses from the table for Peach to pour the golden fizz into. He hands one to Gavin, who knocks it back instantly and holds the glass back out for another.
‘Partay!’ he yells, punching the air, which makes everyone else at the table wince with distaste.
Eep. If they drink much more I’m in real danger of things going awry. God, why did I think it was a good idea to bring them? I was trying to be nice, but it was a stupid, stupid plan.
‘Come on!’ I say breezily, standing up from my chair so rapidly that it makes the table shake. ‘What say we dance?’
‘Great idea!’ Leo agrees, draining the rest of his drink.
‘Come on, you two,’ I gesture to a swaying Peach and Gavin, taking their flutes away and placing them firmly on the table. They sulk in response.
‘Come on!’ I repeat, in the same voice I use when I’m trying to get Mr Belding not to take a dump on Grandma’s carpet. ‘Come on now! That’s it!’
My coaxing works and they follow me towards the dance floor.
As the four of us inch our way through the happy crowds towards where the other guests are dancing, I hang back and grab Peach by the arm.
‘We’ll catch you up in a second,’ I call over to Leo and Gavin. ‘Just a little ladies-only chat.’
When the two of them are out of earshot, I pull Peach over to one of the huge columns surrounding the room.
‘You’re fucking pissed,’ I grumble, folding my arms huffily.
She hiccups. ‘I’m not. I only had five shots. And look, now Gavin and I are getting along famoushly. He’s really, really, really nice. He likes to hike on the weekends. And his favourite colour is blue. Like my dress. It’s like we’re meant to be!’
I see that she’s been grilling him twenty questions-style like she did with me on our first night out at Twisted Spin. I wonder if she’s assigned him a nickname yet.
‘I love you, Jeshicaaa,’ she grins, closing one eye to focus on my face. ‘You’re my besht pal. I won’t dump you for Gavin, you know. I’m not that kind of friend.’ Then she pulls my head down to her sizeable bosom and pats my hair with her big meaty hands.
‘Ow, gerrof! And it’s Lucille,’ I hiss, removing my head from her boobs. ‘You’re supposed to call me Lucille.’
‘Lucille – oh, yeah. Sorry.’ Peach nods sagely and rubs her eye, causing a bit of mascara to splodge onto her cheek. I flick it off. ‘You’re actin’ a little uptight,’ she pouts. ‘Thas not like you. It’s not who you are.’
She’s right, I’m usually chillin’ like Matt Dillon on penicillin. But tonight I am uptight. I’m super on edge. There’s just so much at stake now. Part of me genuinely wants to be here, on a night out with Peach and Leo (not too bothered about Gavin, to be honest) having fun. The other part of me just wants to do one, so I don’t have to acknowledge the complicated situation I’ve managed to get myself into.
I peek over towards Leo, who is awkwardly dancing with Gavin on the dance floor. It’s a pretty slow song, so they’re just sort of swaying from side to side and making small talk.
‘No more booze, all right?’ I say to Peach sternly and sounding a lot like Grandma. ‘Your innocent body won’t be able to handle it and we’ve got work to do. We can’t risk any slip-ups. Think of Matilda. How important this is to her.’
‘I won’t slip up! I wouldn’t do that to you, because you’re my person, like Cristina Yang and Meredith in Grey’s Anatomy. I love Grey’s Anatomy. Do you, Jess? D’you love it?’
‘Peach!’ I hiss. ‘Listen to me!’
‘Fine. Fine. I’ll jusht have one or two more drinks, maybe five more drinks. That’s all.’
Jeez. Is this what I’m like when I’ve had a drink? Is this why Summer used to get so mad at me?
I try to keep my patience. ‘Promise me you won’t drink any more,’ I plead, putting my hands on her shoulders.
Peach throws me a look as if I’m being a huge spoilsport, shakes my hands off her shoulders and stalks off to find Gavin. With a sigh, I follow her, reaching Leo just as the band starts up with a big-band version of ‘Some Kind of Wonderful’ by the Drifters. Leo’s face softens when he spots me. He takes me into his arms and together we glide across the dance floor in a waltz, just like Grandma taught me. At first I move stiffly, trying to remember the steps, trying not to tread on Leo’s feet, but he has obviously had a great deal more practice than me and sweeps me across the dance floor effortlessly, making me look like I know what I’m doing. It’s like something from a film. I’m basically Baby Houseman right now.
‘I like your friends,’ Leo grins, nodding over towards Peach and Gavin, who are shuffling from left to right, arms wrapped around each other like a couple of thirteen-year-olds at the youth club disco. ‘Most people at these kinds of events are so bloody serious. It’s nice to see someone having fun.’ As he says this, he twirls me under his arm. It makes me dizzy, but in a pleasant, giddy way.<
br />
‘They’re great,’ I tell him, feeling guilty about getting grumpy at Peach. ‘Though I don’t really know Gavin, to be honest. Tonight’s his first date with Peach.’
‘Ah.’ Leo nods slowly. ‘That makes sense. While you were chatting with Peach before, I’m pretty sure Gavin called you Jess!’
Oh shit.
Act natural.
‘How bizarre,’ I say steadily. ‘He’s a little tipsy, I think.’
I glance over to where Gavin and Peach are dancing, now grabbing each other’s bums and squeezing them in the manner of someone squeezing a stress ball. They are well on their way to being wasted.
I manoeuvre us a little further away from them on the dance floor, just in case.
I squint up at Leo. Does he suspect something? He doesn’t seem to . . . But I can’t risk it. I need to distract him from all thoughts of Gavin calling me Jess, I need to eradicate that memory from his mind. At least, that’s my reasoning for what happens next. I tilt my head up and to the side, my eyes flicking down to Leo’s mouth. He takes the hint like a champion, immediately leaning towards me for a kiss.
Our lips meet.
KABLAM! POW! YESSSSSS!
If there was any doubt in my mind that the kissing we did in the park was anything other than a fluke, that has now been completely obliterated. Because this kiss is even better. Leo weaves his hands up into my hair, his tongue slipping gently into my mouth. My entire body relaxes into it, and if I didn’t know that it was something that only happens in romance novels, I’d swear my knees go weak.
Fuck. I should probably stop kissing him now. When I kiss him, everything gets complicated. The feelings get stronger, making me all wibbly and dazed and stupid.
Have to stop kissing him.
But I can’t stop kissing him. Things feel, I don’t know, better when I kiss him. Calmer. Like medicine. Just a little longer will be all right, won’t it?
I don’t know how long Leo and I kiss on the dance floor for. I lose all concept of time. It could be two minutes, it could be two hours. I don’t even care.
‘Well, well, well. Don’t you two look cosy?’ comes a familiar voice from behind us.
My blood runs cold. I break off from Leo, my eyes flying open.
Standing there, and looking like the cat that got the cream, is Summer.
Chapter Thirty-Two
If you are in love with your chap, tell him. There isn’t a Good Man in the world who doesn’t like to hear that he is adored by a Good Woman.
Matilda Beam’s Guide to Love and Romance, 1955
I literally can’t speak. My heart is thudding so hard, it must be making my boobs jiggle with the force of it. What the hell is Summer doing here? What’s she going to say? My mouth loses all moisture in an instant. My tongue won’t work. I stare at her, open-mouthed. Leo gives me a puzzled look.
‘Lucille? Are you OK?’
‘Hi, Leo.’ Summer leans in and gives him a kiss on the cheek like they’re the bestest of friends. She looks amazing in a long, red clingy dress, her dark hair piled stylishly on top of her head.
‘Hi?’ Leo says, unsure.
‘Sooo lovely to see you again. We met in Brooklyn last year?’ Summer reminds him. ‘I was with Anderson?’
‘Oh.’ He nods with recognition. ‘Anderson, right. Yes. Good to see you. What brings you here?’
‘I’m with Anderson again actually!’ She points over to the back of the room, where I spot Anderson Warner wearing an electric-blue tuxedo. He’s grown a huge beard and is chatting to a couple of corporate-looking types.
‘He’s here with the guys from Saatchi & Saatchi,’ Summer explains. ‘They’ve just signed him to be the face of the new L’Oréal beard conditioner range in the UK. Massive beards are so in right now.’
I swallow. ‘Are you two . . . ’
‘Maybe, yeah. He’s been in London doing promo and, well – ’ she flicks her hair back, even though it’s all pinned up. It makes her look like she’s got a tic – ‘we just couldn’t stay away from each other. We’ve always had this amazing magnetism.’
I suspect it was more a case of her stalking him, sending him nude selfies until he relented. I wonder how Holden took it. Probably crying into his lumberjack shirt, listening to She & Him on repeat. Poor sod.
‘You look lovely,’ Leo says politely. He seems to sense that I’m uncomfortable and gently winds his arm round my back.
‘Thanks,’ Summer says, turning around slightly so we can get a good look at her almost award-winning bum.
‘You look lovely too, Lucille,’ she enthuses. ‘Soooo super different. It’s an amazing transformation.’
Huh. She just called me Lucille? What’s she playing at? What does she know?
Shit. If Leo wasn’t here I’d just tell her to fuck off. But I need to remain demure while telepathically telling her to fuck off. I try to do it with my eyes. She just smirks in response.
‘Yeah,’ she goes on. ‘I saw you guys in the Telegraph last week, in that piece about the Van Gogh acquisition. I couldn’t believe it when I saw you together. Leo Frost with the latest in a long line of romances, Lucille Darling.’ She does actual air quotes. Was she always this much of a twat? ‘I was totes shocked. You should have told me you were dating, Lucille.’
Fuck. I didn’t know that article was out, that there was a picture of me in the newspaper. Dammit. She clearly knows I’m pretending to be someone else. Is this why she’s here? To spill the beans? To get me back for nicking Mr Belding?
‘How do you two know each other?’ Leo asks as the band segues into a smooth-as-silk version of ‘Fly Me to the Moon’.
‘Oh, we’re old friends,’ Summer laughs in a hollow way, and then lowers her voice. ‘I know all her secrets!’
SHIT.
Leo nudges me, and gives me a naughty grin. ‘Lucille’s secrets? Well, now I’m very intrigued . . . ’
Summer rubs her hands together. ‘Oh, I know them all. For example, Leo, did you know that . . . ’
I completely freeze, every muscle in my body locking. It’s all going to come crashing down. Everything. Right here, right now.
I don’t know what I’m more worried about, the fact that the project will be ruined after all this effort, or the fact that Leo will no longer be able to look at me like he’s looking at me right now – like I’m the coolest, most interesting woman in the world.
Just as Summer is about to reveal some horrible truth about who I really am, the band stops playing and a voice booms out over the speakers, cutting Summer off.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats. The London Advertising Association Awards are about to be announced.’
Leo grabs my hand. ‘Looks like it’s time. Good to see you again, Summer.’
Summer’s confident smile drops slightly. ‘Yes, definitely. I’ll come find you guys later.’
Not if I have anything to do with it.
With a last stony glance at Summer, I follow Leo to where we hurriedly take our seats as an air of excited anticipation settles over the room. There are two empty spaces at our table. Peach and Gavin’s spaces. I squint, scanning the rapidly emptying dance floor for them. Where the hell have they gone?
‘Wow, I’m actually a little nervous,’ Leo laughs, squeezing my hand under the table.
‘You’ll be great,’ I say in the soothing voice. ‘Good luck.’
‘Luck has nothing to do with these things!’ Rufus Frost sniggers from the other side of the table, signalling over to one of the stewards for more champagne. I throw Rufus my most subtle withering glance. Leo kisses me on the neck. I lean into him and rest my head against his shoulder.
Summer, about four tables away, stares at me as I do this, one eyebrow raised. I lift my head back up instantly. Shit. She’s totally gunning for me. As soon as the awards are announced, I’m going to have to come up with some way to get Leo out of here, and fast. I can’t risk Summer talking to him again. Or Peach. Or Gavin, for that matter, wherever they
may be. This is Def-Con 5 and I have to rescue our mission.
We sit through thirty minutes of really boring awards for things such as Best Use of Typography and Best Utilities Branding. The lights are dimmed, so no one notices as I drift off a little.
‘And now we come to the award for Print Campaign of the Year . . . ’ the host booms into the mic. I feel Leo sit up a little straighter beside me and that pulls me out of my daze. I wipe away the little bit of drool that has puddled at the corner of my mouth.
‘This is it!’ Leo whispers.
The host opens up a folded red card, and reads the result.
‘And the winner of LAAA’s Print Campaign of the Year goes to . . . ’
Leo squeezes my hand even tighter.
‘Leo Frost at Woolf Frost for Drive Alive!’
How? How?
Despite my befuddlement that anyone could think that that advert is anything other than ridiculous, I cheer and clap along with the rest of the room.
Leo pulls me up from my chair and bends me over his arm for an extravagant Hollywood Kiss that leaves me breathless, before jogging to the stage area to collect his award.
‘Wow,’ he laughs into the microphone, examining the silver trophy in his hand. ‘Not in a million years did I think I’d be winning this. Especially not when I’m up against such incredibly talented competition. Thank you so much to the incredible team at Woolf Frost for your hard, smart work and huge thanks to the LAAA judges for voting for me.’
We all clap.
Leo takes a deep breath.
‘I’ve actually had quite a journey these past few weeks. Some revelations about my work and, well, about the direction of my life, I suppose. Some of you, well, most of you, will know me as something of an eternal bachelor.’
There’s a polite laugh from the audience and a shout out from the back by someone who says, ‘That’s putting it bloody lightly!’, which gets an even bigger laugh.
‘All right, all right!’ Leo holds up his hands, grinning, his eyes searching me out.
‘Three weeks ago, at a client funfair, Lucille Darling jumped into my dodgem car, and, at the risk of sounding cheesy, into my heart.’
The Vintage Guide to Love and Romance Page 27
