Chapter 88
I’ve been down here for the best part of an hour, not as drunk as I want to be despite downing a few,
but I cannot shake this awful soul-destroying agony in my chest. I don’t let the tears fall, knowing the
mess it will make of my face and make me look pathetic. Instead, I do what I do best; I lift that chin,
push the pain down behind the block of ice that is now lodged in my heart, and swear I will never say
his name again.
I don’t need him.
I find some of his friends down here and dance like my feet are burning, paste on my party face and
revert to Sophie of the city. The one who spent two years coping with her heartbreak alone. Able to
function while a black hole overtakes my soul, smiling and acting like nothing fazes me. I chat to people
I recognize and run into a few faces I know. A good little act at being okay while the wall of mirrored
glass above my head conceals the man who’s taken another huge dump on my heart.
Pushing through the crowd to make my way to the ladies’ room to cool off, I get into the quieter, closed
off hall of the corridor to the bathrooms. Glad of the air and contemplating getting a cab home. I have a
key card to his apartment and bed is calling me, along with solitude to put this to rest for a while. Gone
is the girl who used to use booze as a crutch and mindless overuse of it to get through her woes, I just
want to up and leave, like a boring, mature asshole, with a heavy rock in my stomach.
“Sophieboo?” A familiar female voice is suddenly loud in my left ear, and I spin rapidly, instantly hauled
into an over-enthusiastic hug by Camilla, and almost choke on her sickly perfume when her throat is
shoved in my face aggressively. I flinch a little at the sudden embrace and totter on my heels when she
lets me go again, surprised to see her, or that she’s even acknowledging my existence, considering the
bitch has never gotten back to me. “Oh, my God. I can’t believe I ran into you, here of all places.”
Camilla gushes at me, clearly drunk, and completely ignorant of her wall of silence until now. I stare at
her blankly, feeling nothing but mild irritation and no real desire to hang around and chat.
“Camilla.” I respond drily and push us apart so I can smooth down my dress that she’s messed up with
her enthusiasm.
“I know you’re upset; I can tell. I’m such a mega bitch for not calling you, but I was soo mad at you,
booboo. You up and left after I sorted out a new pad for us, and I’ve been sulking my tiny little bottom
off. I’m such a baby when I’m hurt.” Camilla leans in, swaying on her shoes dramatically and gets a
little too close to my mouth for comfort. I lift my hands to her bust defensively and stop the ascent of
smudged red lips on mine immediately. Suffocated by her behavior and needing space from everyone.
“Please forgive me for being a complete bitch, I mean, you obviously needed to go, but I was soo
tantrummy. I miss you so much.” She tugs at my hair with red talons and smiles at me widely, all
seduction and Camilla poise lacking while she’s so obviously smashed. Up close, even her immaculate
makeup is doing nothing to keep the red-rimmed look of ‘overdid the champers’ off her face. I don’t feel
any of the awe and dazzle I once felt for her, she just looks tired and overdone with empty eyes.
“Whatever, Cam, it doesn’t it matter. Really.” irritated by her, something that has most definitely
changed in me of late. I never used to care how drunk people around me were, used to find it amusing,
but I guess Arrick is right. You get to a point where this shit is old and no longer something you want to
deal with. Camilla is grating on me and I want to leave, now more than ever, already eyeing up an
escape route.
“So, you’re not mad at me. Sophieboo. I couldn’t forgive myself if you were even a teensy bit mad still.”
Her heavy English accent is even more drawn out and precise in this state, as though she is really
trying to keep control of it. She leans in again and this time narrowly misses bumping noses with me,
biting on her lip as she focuses on my mouth a little too intensely. It gives me a weird vibe and I push
her back once more, this time stepping back to create more space.
“Look, I’m here with people, and I need to go and find my friends. I haven’t been upstairs in a while and
they’ll be worried.” I try to extricate myself from Camilla’s sudden grasp on my arms, but she’s clinging
on, drawing me back to her with alarming strength.
“Nooo, just one dance with me, Dahling booboo, and you have to meet Richard, my new beau in tow.
Please, just a little bitty, dance, with your most favorite girl.” She giggles, an attempt at cute, wiggling
her eyebrows at me and pouting seductively. Her weird, snooty, baby language has me frowning at the
spew of childish shit that’s just poured out of her mouth and find myself sighing in resignation. Knowing
I’m not going to get out of this with any peace unless I relent a little.
“Okay, but quickly, as I really do have to find someone.” I lie; I have no intention of looking for him and
interrupting his magnificent reunion with his girlfriend upstairs. Right now, for all I care, he can go fuck
himself, and her if he likes. As long as he stays the hell away from me, for maybe the rest of his life.
Camilla lifts my hand over her head and pulls me back to the dancefloor with a little bouncing wiggle,
catching time to the music and leading me away from the long row of bathroom doors and back into the
noisy bustling club. I glance up at the windows above us absentmindedly, but I can only see that
mirrored glass shining back and the reflection of everyone down here. Anger spiking in my heart, at him
and at myself for being weak enough to look up and I follow her more confidently.
Camilla has a group of friends at the far end of the darkest and most sheltered part of the club. A roped
off secluded area that is being guarded by a heavily suited man who lifts it for us to get by. A table
already set up with trays of champagne, and cocktails, and I am dragged to dance within them, looking
around warily at this weird set up and wondering if all clubs have this roped VIP area on the floor. I
guess this is for the important people who want to be down beside the action, yet not dance beside the
commoners. Or maybe Arrick booked the whole lounge upstairs and this is a compromise for regulars.
There’s a mix of men of various ages who look too old for the girls and women sexually gyrating into
them, or plain wrong for them. My first thought is how random and eclectic this group of people are,
and something seems weird about the pairings. They don’t look celebrity, the men look rich, but the
girls look decidedly ‘hookerish.’
It’s not like Arrick’s group of friends, all similar ages, and similar levels of attractiveness, with girls in
matching fashion, behaving like grownups and friends. This is a mix of class, age and caliber, and
watching a middle-aged man in an open tux, with a bowtie hanging out of his pocket, groping a girl who
looks younger than me with a hand up her skirt, gives me a seriously wrong gut feeling.
The girl turns her head this way for a moment, her eyes are heavy and lazy, she looks wasted and
completely out of her skull, and his grinding and pushing against her only brings attention to the fact
that his hidden hand is doing something obscene under there. Her mouth parts and her head flops
back as he moves in to bite at her neck and I turn away in repulsion. Something is off. Even though
they are concealed in shadow, under an overhanging roof of another VIP lounge above us, it’s a little
too public for this sort of thing. Especially for a club with this much money walking around.
I hear her moaning under the throng of music and turn back with a glare, they’re far enough into the
shadows at the wall now that it’s not glaringly obvious, and Camilla’s group of oddballs don’t give them
a second glance. I notice him unbuttoning his pants, and that lurch in my stomach hits me hard. The
girl looks too young and too wasted to be doing this shit, and I move impulsively towards her, pushing
aside all other thoughts, knowing this cannot happen.
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