“A toast!” Vitolio cried out. Alice had hardly recognized him fully clothed. “To Flavia’s fantastic arse!”
“Hear, hear!”
***
With a group as extroverted as Flavia and her friends, Alice wasn’t required to do anything more than sip her champagne and appreciate their ever-more-outrageous stories. She and Flora settled back on the loungers and for the next hour bore witness to the increasingly drunken antics of European cool hunters, South American fashion designers, and, of course, the London creative elite. But by the time the fifth bottle of champagne arrived at their table, and Cassie once again began to describe the perilous working conditions in Poland, Alice was beginning to feel restless.
Unfolding herself, she slipped her shoes back on and turned to nudge Flora. “Do you want anything from the bar?”
“Maybe some water?” Flora suggested. A chivalrous member of their group had draped his jacket over her as protection from the faint chill, and she was curled up, happily watching the crowd with a dreamy expression on her face.
“I’ll be right back.”
Carefully navigating her way around the pool, Alice slipped inside. The bar was loud with laughter and noise, packed with ultra-stylish young things in bright-print playsuits, leggings, and skinny jeans. Some kind of product launch was going on, with dark bottles of whiskey stacked in precarious pyramids along the back wall and flat screens set up at strategic angles playing advertisements on mute. Thanks to the issues of Heat Saskia left piling up around the office, Alice could count at least three minor reality “stars” and a clutch of former boy-band pinups as she made her way to the bar and ordered two mineral waters.
“That’s not getting into the spirit of things.”
Alice looked back from the clique of D-listers. A man was standing next to her, in a designer-looking suit. “The spirit, get it?” He flashed her a grin. “Because of the whiskey?”
Alice groaned. “That’s a terrible pun.”
“I know,” he admitted, reaching up with one hand to tousle his already-artful mess of choppy blond hair. “What’s worse is I’ve been waiting all night to use it.”
She laughed, despite herself, just as the barman delivered Alice’s drinks. She rummaged in her purse for change.
“I’ve got this,” he stopped her, sliding a note to the barman.
“Thank you,” Alice said politely. Ordinarily, she would have left it at that and returned to her group, but she’d been restless for a while. Watching him, Alice gave a small grin. “What would you have done if I’d ordered champagne?”
“Gone and hit on the girl drinking cranberry juice,” he replied, nodding farther down the bar. Alice laughed.
“You’re honest, at least.”
“An underrated virtue.” He flashed that smile again. “I’m Johan.”
Alice took his outstretched hand. “I’m…” She paused, the words dissolving in her mouth. She could tell him anything, she realized suddenly: any name, any story. Why would he doubt her? She could create whatever fiction she desired. Alice felt a spark of power rush through her. For one night, she could be the successful agent or jet-setting actress or nationally best-selling artist. Anything.
But just as quickly, Alice swallowed back the temptation. What was she thinking? “I have to get back,” she said, nodding in the direction of the pool. “But thank you for the drinks.”
Johan shrugged. “No problem.” His eyes drifted past her, already seeking out his next target. “Enjoy the rest of your night.”
Alice hurried back outside. Flora was boxed into a corner, Cassie’s sleazy designer friend leaning ever closer, so Alice deftly inserted herself between them. “Here you go.” She brightly passed Flora the water, turning away from the man and pushing back a few steps so he was forced to retreat.
“Thanks,” Flora whispered gratefully. “He started insisting I come by his studio for some private fittings!”
“Lovely.” Alice took a sip and looked around. The lone swimmer had long since abandoned the pool, but the water looked even more appealing now in the dark: glowing an ethereal turquoise as it rippled and shifted in the breeze.
“Are you doing OK?” Alice checked with Flora. “They can be a little overwhelming, I know.” Her own years with Vivienne and Cassie had inured her somewhat to the adventures of her more high-maintenance acquaintances. Flora, however, looked pale and faintly exhausted.
“No, I’m great!” she insisted, smiling back at Alice. “Everyone’s so interesting and well travelled. It’s wonderful.”
“But you’ll let me know if…” She trailed off, catching a glimpse of a new arrival emerging from the lift. “Oh crap.”
“What?” Flora followed her gaze.
“The ex.”
He was strolling out onto the roof, a messy cravat knotted at his neck and an arm draped around a rake-thin girl. Petros had been crude but correct in his description, Alice noted: her hair was a long, sweeping mess of blond curls, but her torso was completely flat. Alice looked quickly over at Cassie. Perched in Vitolio’s lap, laughing loudly, it seemed as if she hadn’t noticed him yet, but Alice detected a wild, determined look in her eyes. She knew exactly what was happening.
Alice sighed. The last time they’d had a run-in with Dakota in person, Cassie had spent the rest of the night downing tequila shots and weeping in the women’s bathroom. Alice practically had to carry her back to the Tube, passing tissues as she bawled all the way home, hiccuping over how they were meant to be together, and how it didn’t matter what a bastard he seemed, because they had so much history. Alice had heard it all too many times.
“Do you want to get going?” she asked Flora, suddenly determined. Just because Cassie ran like clockwork, it didn’t mean Alice had to play her part this time too. They were surrounded by people who could hold Cassie’s hair back as she wretched, miserable, and murmur sympathetic encouragement that she would only ignore.
“Sure, if you want to.” Flora seemed reluctant, but she reached for her purse.
“Good,” Alice exhaled. Cassie was already gulping from the nearest bottle of wine, but this time, at least, Alice wouldn’t have to suffer through the carnage. Quickly, they said their good-byes and headed back toward the lift, but Cassie chased after her.
“Wait, Alice.” Cassie grabbed her arm. “You’re not going, are you? You can’t!”