Calvin Harris’s ‘Feel So Close’ greets us as we enter and we find our way to the bar, ordering champagne automatically once we’re there, which is daft. What are we celebrating? Being complete idiots? I ignore the strawberry in my flute and sip while gazing around the bar, expecting Tony to appear from somewhere, but after a few minutes of scanning the club, no Tony.
Gregory doesn’t tell me to take it easy, probably because he’s hell-bent on dulling down his own hurt with alcohol. This is a dangerous position for us both to be in, for the combination of alcohol and our determination to heal our broken hearts is sure to land us in trouble. I can see cameras everywhere. I can also see men watching me, my eyes like a hawk’s trying to attract the attention that I’m usually so uncomfortable receiving. I take a deep breath, push all thoughts of disgrace to the very back of my mind, and lose myself in the crowd of London’s elite. I shy away from nothing. I accept drinks, I talk with confidence, and I let men rest their hands on my waist or lower back when they get close to talk over the loud music. My cheek is kissed by countless men, and Gregory, although watchful and a little wary, smiles each time.
He moves in when I step away from a tall preppy-type. ‘You look comfortable. What’s changed?’
‘Miller Hart,’ I say nonchalantly before finishing off my champagne. Gregory hands me another and we make the most of our time alone, taking a few moments to drink in our surroundings. Heads are thrown back in laughter and continental-style kisses are exchanged everywhere. In reality, Gregory and I really don’t fit in among these social elitists.
But Ben does.
And he’s here.
I know what I should be doing. I should be dragging Gregory away, but just as I convince my alcohol-drenched brain to do exactly that, Ben spots us and starts making his way over.
Shit, I curse to myself, weighing up my options. My drunken mind isn’t allowing me to think quickly enough, so before I can haul my friend away, Ben is standing in front of us and Gregory is shifting awkwardly on the spot. I still feel mad, especially when Ben glances at me with high eyebrows. I gather breath to hit him with another torrent of abuse, but he beats me to it and launches into an apology speech. My mouth snaps shut as I flick my eyes from Ben to Greg, back and forth, wondering how this is going to play out.
‘I was a total dick,’ Ben begins quietly, just loud enough for us to hear over the music. He’s still in the closet. ‘I don’t want anyone to know before I’m ready to . . . share.’
‘When might that be?’ Gregory snaps, shocking me. I was certain he’d turn to mush all over the dopey-eyed Ben. I’m pleasantly surprised.
Ben shrugs sheepishly and drops his eyes to the glass of champagne in his grasp. ‘I need to prepare myself, Greg. This is a huge deal.’
‘You’re making it a bigger deal by pretending and dragging it out.’ Gregory takes my elbow. ‘We’re done here,’ he says, pulling me towards the dance floor. I let him take me, and I peer over my shoulder as I’m escorted away, seeing Ben standing lonely and looking a little lost, until an over-the-top woman approaches, throwing her arms over him, and he switches straight back to smiley, people-pleaser Ben. Any ounce of sympathy I had for him diminishes instantly.
‘I’m proud of you,’ I say as we arrive on the dance floor and get a little taster of Jean Jacques Smoothie.
He grins and discards our glasses before taking me in his hold and twirling me out on a spin. ‘I’m proud of me, too. Let’s dance, baby girl.’
I don’t argue, but as I’m twirled around the floor, I’m mindful that Gregory’s massive smile and forced carefree appearance is for the benefit of Ben, who’s standing at the edge of the floor talking to a different woman but doing a terrible job of engaging, his eyes nailed to my friend. This is good, as long as Gregory continues to hold his own and doesn’t let Ben muscle his way back into his life.
I fulfil my role perfectly, laughing along with Gregory and letting him swing me about and grind into my waist seductively, but then the music cuts abruptly before the track ends, not even mixing into another. Everyone halts dancing, looking around a little bemused. The only sounds now are of confused chatter.
‘Is it a power cut?’ I ask, but quickly realise the stupidity of my question when I register all of the blue lights still glowing at every turn.
‘I’m not sure,’ Gregory replies, confused. ‘Maybe the fire alarm will kick in.’
I gaze around the club, seeing motionless forms everywhere, all looking confused by the sudden quiet. Even the doormen have entered from outside to find out what’s happening, and when I cast my eyes over to the DJ, I see him shrug at the security guy next to him, who’s obviously asking what’s going on.
Unease sets in, strangeness settles in my gut, and the hairs at the back of my neck rise. William’s words are suddenly all I can hear. I reach over to take Gregory’s hand, feeling exposed and vulnerable, yet with no explanation except a silly power cut.
‘What’s going on?’ I ask, casting my eyes around the club, looking for . . . I’m not sure.