by Julie Archer
Saff stretched in her chair. “God, that feels better. I could do with a nap though.” As if to prove her point, she yawned.
“Me too. I didn’t exactly sleep well last night. You know, strange bed, strange house, worrying whether you were okay…” I let the sentence trail off, to show Saff I had been thinking about her.
Her cheeks flushed. “I was a bit of a state, wasn’t I? Thanks for sorting me out.”
“Well, isn’t that what any good boyfriend would do?” I joked.
“About that.” Her tone was serious.
Oh God, had she changed her mind already? One night out with me and even a fake relationship is too much.
“Do you have plans for the weekend?”
I debated whether to make something up and decided the truth was a better option. “Given I currently live with my aunt and uncle and haven’t spoken to anyone else in the past week except you, Jonas and the guys at the pub, then I think you might know the answer to that!”
Saff stifled a giggle, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “Do you fancy a trip to Manchester?”
“What’s in Manchester?”
“A charity dinner.” Saff pulled at a piece of skin next to her thumbnail. “It’s something one of the magazines does every year. There’ll be food, drinks, dancing. We’ll stay in a fancy hotel for a couple of nights.”
Ah, another opportunity to show off her new, reliable, straight boyfriend. I couldn’t deny it sounded like fun though. Plus, Saff had said fancy so I doubted we’d be staying in a Travelodge and going to Wetherspoons for dinner.
“Sounds like fun. When would we go?”
“Friday night, the dinner’s on Saturday so we could check out the shops.” One side of her mouth quirked up. “Like we did yesterday.”
“You are not buying me more stuff!” I protested. “I have a perfectly good wardrobe at home, thank you.”
“I hope so, because the dinner’s black tie.”
“Shit, really? Then maybe we do need to shop because I don’t have that.” I racked my brains, trying to remember the last time I’d been so dressed up. It had probably been at Uncle Col and Aunt Annie’s wedding. I’d been thirteen—that suit definitely wouldn’t fit me now.
“We’ll sort something out. Jonas knows a really good hire place. But you think you’ll come with me?” Her eyes were full of hope.
“Do I have a choice?” The words came out wrong, harder than I’d expected and Saff’s face fell.
“It’s fine, you don’t have to come if you don’t want to, of course you have a choice,” she rambled.
“I’m sorry, Saff, I was joking. I’d love to come along.” I met her gaze and nodded.
Even though I knew the contract was the main reason she was asking, her reaction when I’d indicated I might decline led me to believe it wasn’t the only one.
13
Saff
I woke early on Thursday morning, refreshed from a night off the alcohol and a positive afternoon with Darren. After Tris and I had brunch together, I went straight over to Darren’s. By the time I got home, Jonas told me Tris had gone home with his uncle to get the stuff he needed for our weekend away. I’d wanted to tell him about the song we’d worked on, how the melody and lyrics were panning out; what other ideas I had. As if we were a proper couple. The more time I spent with him, even a couple of hours, the more I liked him. He was nice, normal, caring. All the things missing from the other guys I usually fell for.
Rosie messaged me to make sure I was on my way to our shoot, and she was shocked when I told her I was. Usually she had to call and message at least three times before I even got my arse out of bed. It was amazing what one dry night did to me. Maybe I should have them more often.
Before I went into the studio, I had one last crafty cigarette, knowing it would be a while until I could have another.
“There she is!” Rosie proclaimed as I walked in. “On time and looking fresh for once.”
She came towards me with open arms and we hugged. I only took that kind of shit from her, no-one else.
The journalist for the glossy weekly we were being interviewed for came over, nervously looking between us. I could tell from the way she looked at me, I wasn’t her cup of tea. The interview was about how people who didn’t look like they ought to be friends on the basis of appearance. And the differences between Rosie and me were more than apparent. She was almost six feet tall and willowy with a mane of thick, blonde hair and perfect clear blue eyes. The exact stereotypical image of a fashion model. With her paid partnerships and sponsor deals, she was a total dream to work with. I couldn’t have been further away from her if I tried.
“So, we’ll do the shoot first and then have a chat after, if that works for you both?” the journalist asked.
“Sure, sounds good,” Rosie replied smoothly. “Where are the hair and make-up team?”
The woman pointed into a curtained off area to one side of the large warehouse sized space.
“Super.” Rosie beamed and linked her arm through mine, walking us off in that direction. “I’m serious, Saff, you’re looking good today.”
“I stayed in last night. Had a heavy one on Tuesday.”
She raised an eyebrow. “I was going to talk to you about that.”
“Ladies, hi! I’m Laura and I’m going to be your make-up artist today.” A petite redhead with amazing green eyes approached us and ushered us into our chairs. She pointed to a guy who was on his phone. I recognised him from Rosie’s social media accounts as her hairdresser, Ronnie. “I think you already know him.”
At the sound of Laura’s voice, Ronnie’s head snapped up. “Darlings! So happy to see you again and looking forward to making you both look fabulous. Although it will be easier work with one of you.” His gaze swept dismissively over me.
“Always a pleasure to see you too, Ronnie.” I was used him by now and knew he was joking.
We took our seats and waited for the magic to happen.
This was the part of shoots I always dreaded. I had my own look, the way I wanted to portray myself. And it was a constant battle to be asked if I minded it being toned down or exaggerated. I was happy with the pink hair, the tats, the nose ring, the dark make-up and avant-garde clothing, even if some of the more mainstream media weren’t.
Laura started Rosie’s make-up first, while Ronnie took a look at my hair. I tried to ignore the disdainful sneer on his face as he lifted up strands and wrinkled his nose.
“Who’s the guy you were with on Tuesday night?” Rosie didn’t beat about the bush, simply went straight in for the jugular.
“What do you mean?” I pleaded innocence, although it wouldn’t wash. Not with Rosie, she’d known me too long.
“The Goss had you out with the band but looking very cosy with someone.” She elongated the word ‘very’.
I hadn’t even thought to look at the gossip sites, considering it had been a pretty low-key evening and I didn’t remember getting close to Tris. Although there was a huge chunk of Tuesday night which was a total mystery to me.
“Here.” Rosie held out her phone, where she’d helpfully bookmarked the relevant page.
The picture in question was a shot of Tris and I walking hand in hand somewhere along the King’s Road from the restaurant to the pub. I had to admit we looked good together. There was a splashy headline questioning who he was and how happy I appeared. I was surprised they hadn’t asked for people who knew him to get in touch with the full story. There was also a shot which was obviously much later in the evening of the pair of us getting into a taxi. Or should I say, Tris loading me into the car. Jesus, he really did have his work cut out.
“Well?” she demanded.
“Ouch!” I winced as Ronnie twisted some of my hair around his curling wand, pulling it tighter than necessary.
“Where the hell did you meet someone who looks so normal? I mean, come on Saff, he’s not exactly Troy Carson, is he?”
I wanted to tell Rosie the truth abo
ut the fake relationship. But Jonas warned me against telling anyone outside of Tris and his family exactly what the deal was. But Rosie and I had been best friends for a long time and I knew she wouldn’t tell anyone. I wrestled with my conscience for several minutes. Jonas was right, we didn’t need this getting out. It was meant to be improving my reputation, not doing it more damage. So I stuck with the story I’d told Darren and Barney.
“We were at uni together.”
“Bullshit,” snorted Rosie. “I knew everyone you knew at uni. Hell, I know everyone you knew at school. And I would absolutely remember this guy.”
Bollocks. She was right.
“You don’t know everyone I hung around with. I met him at that underground club I used to go to. Remember the one? Oh, no, you wouldn’t because you never went to it.” Mentally, I fist pumped. There was somewhere I went without her.
“Babe, everyone who went there had mohicans and piercings and more tattoos than you. If he went there, he’s had some serious work done since then.” Rosie’s eyes were closed as Laura applied eyeshadow.
I was glad she couldn’t see me. It was a wonder I wasn’t going up in flames for the amount of lies slipping out of my mouth. “If you never met him at the time, you wouldn’t know,” I said, triumphantly.
“We lived together. I saw every man you ever slept with at university. And then some.”
I poked my tongue out at her.
“And I saw that.” Rosie let out a breath. “Anyway, enough of where he came from. Are you going to see him again?”
I’m lucky enough to see him every day.
“Yeah, I am. He’s coming to the Roccia dinner with me at the weekend.”
“Ooo, a weekend away already? It must be serious.” Rosie’s mouth curled up. “Share the deets, what’s his name, what does he do?”
“He’s called Tris and he’s, um, helping his uncle with his painting and decorating business.” I hated the hesitation in my tone as I spoke. I was usually prepared to dish all the dirt on my latest boyfriend.
“Oh my God, Saff Barnes! You’re dating a manual labourer!”
My best friend burst into peals of laughter. I pressed my lips into a tight line. It wasn’t as if what Tris did was beneath either of us. He happened to be working with his family.
Shit, I barely recognised what I was thinking. Three days with someone apparently normal and I’d forgotten about the likes of Troy Carson. Jonas would think this a good thing.
“I bet he’s good with his hands,” she went on. “What’s he like in bed?”
“I don’t know, we haven’t slept together yet.” That was something else I’d have to fabricate. Rosie and I tended to share details of those kind of things. She’d think there was something wrong if Tris and I didn’t sleep together.
“Dates, going away together and you haven’t shagged him yet? Seriously, Saff, sounds like you’re losing your touch.”
I wasn’t, but I couldn’t tell her. If I could talk to her properly, I could tell her about the inner battle I was having with myself. That although this liaison with Tris was totally make believe, I was starting to think I wanted it to be legit. He constantly filled my thoughts when I wasn’t with him. As Ronnie pulled my hair again, I closed my eyes and wished I was back at home, watching Tris build kitchen cupboards rather than having my hair and make-up done. I couldn’t believe the effect he was having on me in such a short time. Why was this so different?
14
Tris
It had only been a day and a half, but I missed seeing Saff. After we’d had brunch together on Wednesday, she hadn’t been in the house at the same time as I was. There was evidence of her, the empty coffee cups and clothes by the washing machine. It was Jonas who’d filled me in on the details of the weekend’s events, giving me the tickets and the travel information, so I knew where we had to be and when.
And that was when the nerves kicked in.
I’d never been to one of these black-tie dinners before. Even my own university graduation had been low key. Well, I was graduating with a decent BTEC diploma, so it didn’t exactly warrant hiring some fancy venue with a plethora of cutlery at the table for dinner. The local pizza chain restaurant sufficed for us, follow by beers in the pub. That was my comfort level. Anything else, simply put, scared the living shit out of me.
I could only assume the event would be populated by musos and PR reps. People I had very little in common with. What was I going to talk about?
On the journey home with Uncle Col, I barely said a word for worrying. I think he sensed something wasn’t right because as soon as we got back, he suggested we all go out for dinner. Aunt Annie mumbled something about already having a pie in the oven, but soon changed her mind when Col mentioned we needed to try to get me a suit, so we’d have to do that first.
Soon, we were at the late night shopping centre nearby.
My initial thoughts were to hire something. After all, I didn’t know whether I’d be going to more events like this. But when we were told they didn’t have anything in stock for me to take away, we had to go to one of the department stores. I had to hope Saff didn’t know too much about men’s fashion and wouldn’t be able to tell whatever I ended up with wasn’t high-end designer. With Aunt Annie’s help, we narrowed it down to four possible options. I wasn’t particularly sure about any of them.
“Tris! You look amazing!” Aunt Annie’s face was a picture as I stepped out of the changing room in a dark, charcoal grey suit with black satin lapels, the last of the bunch. She approached me, fussing around with the fit of the jacket.
I barely recognised myself as I stared at the reflection in the mirror. It was certainly a far cry from the man who’d spent most of his recent past dressed in grey marl tracksuit bottoms and a matching sweatshirt.
“Not bad, son. I reckon a certain young lady would be very happy to see you looking like this.” Uncle Col gave me a sideways wink, while I noted Aunt Annie pursed her lips.
“I can’t believe we found something straight away.” I was certainly glad of that.
“See, I’ve still got it.” Aunt Annie gave a small smile. She had been the one to find it. “All these years of shopping haven’t been wasted after all, eh, Col?”
“Right, let’s get this paid for and then we can go and eat.” Uncle Col placed a hand on his stomach. “Jonas got me to try some quinoa at lunchtime and I’m not sure it’s sitting right.”
I laughed and slipped back into the changing room to get back into my jeans and shirt. But before I got changed, I took a candid snap in the mirror of me in the suit. Maybe I’d show it to Saff.
Twenty minutes later, we were sitting in Aunt Annie’s favourite Italian restaurant. We’d almost had an argument in the shop about who was going to pay for the suit. I insisted I’d put it on my credit card, but Col argued with me until I backed down and let him pay. As my aunt looked between us, I wondered how much she knew about the arrangement between us and the Barnes’ and how much they stood to benefit from it. It wasn’t long before I was going to find out.
When we’d ordered and were sipping our drinks, Aunt Annie turned to me.
“Tris, I’m worried about this…thing, between you and that Barnes girl.”
“What do you mean?”
She glared at Col. “Your uncle told me all about the agreement to make her look good in front of the press. Who does that?”
“Lots of people, apparently.” I shrugged. “I think it’s quite common in certain circles to have these sort of things, to protect people.”
“We’re not part of those circles though, are we? We’re nice, normal, hard-working people.” She took a large gulp of wine. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Hey.” I reached across the table and took her hand. “I’m not going to. It’s not as if I don’t know what this is all about. It’s probably even easier than a proper relationship because I know it’s not real.” I had to keep reminding myself of that, despite the thoughts I’d been having ab
out Saff.
“How long’s it going to go on for? And will it stop you having a real relationship?”
“I don’t know, and anyway, right now probably isn’t the right time for me to get involved with anyone. This way I can focus on helping Uncle Col and make the most of this thing with Saff, perhaps enjoy life for a little while. Don’t you think I deserve that?”
Aunt Annie squeezed my hand. “Of course you do. Promise me you’ll be careful?”
I nodded. “Scout’s honour.”
I hoped she didn’t see me crossing my fingers beneath the table.
We got home shortly after ten and I headed straight to my room. I needed to make sure I had everything for the weekend when we left in the morning, and I didn’t want to keep Uncle Col waiting. As I packed my bag with the basics, my phone vibrated.
I frowned.
There weren’t many people who had my number anymore.
Expecting it to be a marketing text, I ignored it, trying to find the boxers Saff had bought me the other night. A couple of minutes later, it did the same, and again, I ignored it, not wanting to be distracted. When I was sure I had everything I needed, I went to the bathroom, cleaned my teeth, got undressed and slid under the duvet.
I reached for my phone, seeing a couple of messages from a number I didn’t recognise.
The first one was pretty vague, a simple ‘hi’ followed by three dots. The next said ‘looking forward to the weekend?’
Recently, I’d deleted a lot of contacts from my address book. People who either didn’t care enough to contact me to ask if I was okay, or people who had who were less than positive. I didn’t want those types of people in my life any longer.
Tentatively, I typed a response.
Who is this?
The three dots flashed as whoever was on the other end replied.
Me, you idiot! How many other people are you going away with at the weekend?!?!
Saff. A smile crept across my face. I didn’t know how she’d got my number, Uncle Col I guessed.