dotted around, drinks in hands and heads thrown back in laughter.
A group all dressed in black are lounging around a coffee table in the middle of the room, smoking cigarettes. Musicians, I assume. But I can’t see Moss anywhere. The coffee table is crowded with bottles, an overflowing ashtray the centrepiece.
Maybe this was a mistake. Alice and Georgia have already disappeared into the toilets. I scan the room for Natasha or Moss. Even Jack would be a sight for sore eyes now. But I can’t find anyone I know and I start to think they must be working back at the studio.
I’m shifting feet for the fourth time when a skinny guy dressed in black comes over, smiling like a hyena. He’s better than no-one. We chat about the amazing house for a while, but I make a point not to meet his gaze.
Eventually I cut him off with an über-fake smile. ‘Nice talking to you.’ And make my way to the other side of the room.
Through a wall of windows an outdoor pool sits empty and still. It’s lit up with rows of blue lights. A faint shimmer of heat rises from the water, making the city lights blur and blend beyond it.
‘You like it?’ asks a voice behind me.
Quickly I turn, caught unawares. ‘Oh … ah, yes.’ I’m breathless already. Not sure if it’s from the view or the fact that Moss is standing in front of me. ‘It’s beautiful.’
His eyes don’t leave mine. ‘Yes. It is.’
‘Just make sure you don’t go out for a walk and fall in,’ mumbles a guy beside Moss with tattoos twisting down one arm. ‘Speaking from experience.’
Moss jerks his head. ‘This is Bruno. Dancer, meet drummer.’
I smile and nod. ‘Scarlett.’
‘So what’s ya poison, Scarlett?’ grunts Bruno.
Right now I’d kill for a chicken stir-fry. Can of tuna? Boiled egg? ‘Maybe … just coffee,’ I say, and immediately feel like an idiot.
At the mention of coffee, both guys frown and Moss raises a finger. ‘Leave it with me.’ He makes his way to the bar, pausing to say something to the housekeeper on the way.
‘Don’t worry, he’s coming back,’ says Bruno.
Am I that obvious? I wish I could make some easy conversation. After dancing in heels all day, my legs ache in whole new ways. I wish I could sit down, but I just stand there feeling awkward and waiting for Moss to return.
‘How did the shoot go today?’ asks Bruno, mercifully making an effort to fill the silence.
I answer distractedly, but my eyes drift back to the bar. When Bruno asks another question, I realise that he is actually interested so I try to focus. I tell him about instructions from the director. How many takes we did. What I thought of the music.
I see a tall woman walk up to Moss at the bar. She’s stunning, moving with the confidence of knowing heads will always turn her way. Not a dancer, though. It’s not until she leans over the bar that I see it’s Kitty Hudson, the model. She’s always in magazines and sometimes on TV. I keep talking to Bruno, sneaking peeks at the way Moss looks at her, the position of his hand on her back, the lingering kiss they share.
Soon Moss comes over again, carrying two tall glasses.
‘Sorry, mate,’ says Moss and shrugs at Bruno. ‘Only have two hands.’
Bruno just grunts, with a cigarette between his lips as he holds a lighter to the tip. Once it flares he slowly breathes in and stale smoke is replaced with fresh. I think I’m going to faint from holding my breath.
‘Oh, sorry.’ Bruno waves the air around me in an attempt to clear the smoke. ‘’Scuse me.’
I nod, relieved, as Bruno wanders away.
My stomach churns greedily as I sip my drink, savouring the sweetness of coffee-tinged alcohol. I read somewhere that alcohol has heaps of calories, but I’m starving and there’s nothing else. I decide to count this as dinner.
‘What do you think?’ asks Moss, smiling.
‘Mmmm …’ I lick my lips and give him a small smile. ‘Delicious.’ Already my head has begun to float, but my stomach
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