Angela. Are you OK?’
‘Yeah, go back to sleep,’ I muttered, pushing away the familiar voice. I was so tired, couldn’t he just let me lie in?
‘Ahh, shit. Get me some water?’ A hand brushed my hair off my forehead and, as I tried to roll over, I couldn’t help but think the bed was very uncomfortable all of a sudden. And cold. And floor-like.
‘Don’t worry, she kind of makes a habit of this,’ Alex said, helping me find my feet, then a chair and then a very large glass of water. ‘At least she didn’t throw up this time.’
‘I’m not drunk,’ I muttered into the glass, gulping down the water. ‘I’m jet-lagged. And stressed.’
‘Hi by the way.’ Alex gave me a half-smile and brushed a chunk of frizzy hair behind my ear. ‘Bienvenue à Paris.’
I looked around, but the mystery blonde I vaguely recalled setting up shop in my boyfriend’s lap had vanished. Had I imagined her?
‘Muh?’
‘Welcome to Paris.’ His smile turned into a frown and his green eyes peered closely into mine. ‘Angela, are you OK? Do you need a doctor?’
‘No.’ I breathed in deeply. Really, no blonde anywhere. ‘I’m fine, I just had the worst journey.’
‘Bad turbulence?’ An American voice across the table asked. Turning too quickly and getting a shooting pain through my temple for my efforts, I saw Graham and Craig, Alex’s bandmates, waving from across the table.
‘Great entrance.’ Graham gave me a reassuring smile and pushed his glasses back up his nose. ‘You could have just called if you couldn’t see us.’
‘I liked it,’ Craig added. ‘But uh, no offence Angie, but you might have changed? This is Paris, you know, not Brooklyn.’
‘Thanks Craig.’
He wasn’t nearly as polite as Graham, but then he wasn’t nearly as gay either. I had almost, for one second, forgotten the fact that I’d been wearing the same clothes for almost twenty hours. And that I hadn’t looked in a mirror for more or less the same amount of time. Although that one was through choice, not because all my belongings had been ‘securely detonated’.
‘You look great.’ Alex gave Craig a filthy look on my behalf. ‘But uh, you didn’t have time to change? Not that you need to change. Cus you look great.’
Holding my head in my hands, I relayed the whole sorry story, pausing to let Craig laugh his arse off at appropriate points and finally ask if that meant I didn’t have any underwear.
Graham shook his head. ‘Angela, that’s awful. But at least you’ll get to replace your wardrobe in Paris, right? What a place to shop yourself blind.’
‘Except my credit card is completely maxed from LA still.’ I tried to smile.
‘We’ll sort something out, I’m so sorry you had to deal with all this shit.’ Alex put his arm around my shoulders and pulled my head down on to his shoulder. He smelled so good. Another reminder that I probably did not. ‘Just relax now. You’re here. In Paris. It’s going to be awesome.’
‘Yeah.’ I closed my eyes and sighed. ‘I guess. Although I do need to get some clothes. I have literally no clothes. But I honestly don’t know when I’m going to have the time. I’m supposed to meet this assistant from French Belle tomorrow and I’ve lost all my notes and stuff.’
All of my notes, my camera, my laptop charger. All the research I’d carefully and painstakingly knocked off from other magazines and guidebooks, gone. Everything in my suitcase, gone. I could feel my second wind of grief coming on and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Tears prickled in my eyes as Alex stroked my arm and listened to Craig read out the menu. What was I going to do in Paris for almost a week without any of my clothes? Without my shoes? Without my hair straighteners? My stomach fell through the chair and hit the floor. And oh my God, Jenny’s clothes. How was I going to tell Jenny I’d lost everything she’d lent me? I didn’t want to get her into trouble, but there was no way I could pop into Balmain and buy a three-thousand-dollar sequined mini dress to replace the one I absolutely, one hundred per cent knew I shouldn’t have brought with me in the first place.
‘You’re totally gonna want to get some nice shit for the festival, Angie,’ Craig said. ‘You should see some of the girls in the other bands, man alive they are hot.’
‘Really?’ I asked, looking to Graham for confirmation.
He half shrugged, half nodded. ‘I guess, but hey, what do I know?’
Brilliant. Something else to worry about.
‘Don’t sweat it, Ange. You’re probably as hot,’ Craig offered. He stopped eating for a second and squinted at me. ‘In your regular clothes. And I guess you’ll want to pick up some make-up or something.’
‘Who died and made you Tyra?’ Graham asked quickly. ‘Ignore him. You look great.’
‘Yeah you do. Beautiful, in fact.’ My lovely boyfriend kissed the top of my head and stood up. ‘Just running to the bathroom. You want to stay and eat or just go back to the hotel?’
‘Hotel.’ I nodded. ‘I just want to sleep for a month.’
Alex nodded and bobbed off through the crowded bar. Even from the back he was gorgeous. Possibly I was biased and/or a bit mad, but really, he was hot from every angle. Being able to spot his slightly slouchy posture in a darkened room from twenty feet was one of my keenest talents.
‘Sorry for being so rubbish.’ I offered Craig and Graham a pained expression and glugged another mouthful of water. ‘Not to go Yoko your evening, but I really do need to go to bed.’
‘We totally get it, go get some beauty rest.’ Graham waved away my concerns. And I elected to ignore his beauty rest comment. ‘I’m sure Alex doesn’t want to hang out with us anyway. Craig was a pain in both our asses on the plane.’
‘Yeah, he won’t want to hang out with his best friends when his best girl is here.’ Craig sipped his beer and smiled. I wanted to be embarrassed, but instead I actually giggled. For shame, Angela. ‘And y’know, he’s totally pussy whipped again.’
‘Again?’ I asked.
‘Like with that French bitch he used to date.’ Craig nodded over his beer, ignoring Graham’s warning cough. Which ironically, I picked up immediately.
‘French bitch?’ This was new information. Why didn’t I know about a French bitch? ‘Alex never mentioned dating a French bit—I mean, girl?’
‘Yeah?’ Craig carried on ignoring Graham. ‘Yeah, she was—’
‘For ever ago. It was for ever ago,’ he interrupted. ‘He’s so over it. Totally.’
‘He dated her in New York?’ I asked, flicking my gaze between the two suspicious-looking boys.
‘Yeah, well—’ Craig started.
‘Yes.
