Page 135 of Falling for You

‘I think it’s going to be pretty spectacular,’ she says. ‘It’s a proper PR event.’

‘What does that mean?’ Penny shuffles her seat round so she’s facing Tanya.

‘Basically, it means that we’ll get loads of free stuff!’ She beams. ‘There will be free drinks and food and theyalwayshave little goodie bags to give out.’

I lean my head on my hand. ‘Are you sure we’re allowed to go? We’re nothing to do with fashion.’

‘Your costume will beg to differ,’ Penny quips and I puff my chest out in pride.

‘It’s fine,’ Tanya flaps her hand. ‘You might just have to pretend to be influencers or something.’

Penny scoffs. ‘Oh God, what does that mean?’

‘Just take the odd selfie,’ Tanya shrugs, and I laugh at Penny’s horrified expression as Tanya sets the mugs down on our polka-dot tablecloth and sits on the third chair.

‘People will be taking pictures of you anyway,’ Penny says, nodding to me.

‘Well, I don’t know if I’m allowed to wear my costume yet.’

Tanya’s head snaps round to face me. ‘What? Of course you’re allowed to wear it! You must wear it!’

‘It’s not a ball gown. Isn’t it a masquerade ball?’

Tanya bats me away. ‘Just add a mask and you’ll be fine. We’re on the guest list, baby, we’re golden.’

CHAPTER SIX

Nate

I zoom in on my laptop screen, the patches of green stretching apart to reveal road names and buildings. Aunt Tell lives in Epping, which is about an hour on the train from here. We could go by this weekend, just pop in and see her. All I have to do is persuade Stevie to come with me, without telling him my reason. If I tell Stevie it’s because I want to persuade Aunt Tell to come back to New York with me, he’ll get all weird and closed off like he always does when I bring up Mom. You don’t have to be a psychologist to work out why – you can see the guilt painted across his face at being on the other side of the world while I’ll have to deal with Mom being sick. But youwouldhave to be a psychologist to get him to talk about it, or even acknowledge a single feeling exists inside his eccentric, defensive mind. I’ve given up trying. He’ll come to me eventually, and if he doesn’t, I’ll just buy him a pint.

‘All right?’

I look up and double-take Stevie as he walks into the living room. He’s wearing a tank top, which is tight against his lean body, baggy joggers and a single hoop earring. Noneof this is out of the ordinary; it’s his full face of make-up that nearly makes me fall off my seat.

‘Is this your new act?’ I ask, trying not to laugh at his exaggerated lips, fan-like eyelashes and painted-on eyebrows which arch up the side of his face.

Stevie clicks his tongue at me, opening his bag and throwing his water bottle inside.

‘I’m getting a cab and I hate the dressing room at this place,’ he snaps. ‘It’s easier if I do my make-up here and then get changed once I’m there.’

I nod, taking a sip from my cold bottle of Corona.

Stevie created Stevie Trixx, his drag persona, a few years after he finished dance school. It made total sense, Stevie’s a fantastic dancer … but he’s also a performer. He loves making people laugh and gasp on stage and he’s always been so creative.

‘What time is your cab?’ I ask, moving my bag so he can slump onto the sofa next to me. He closes his eyes, pushing a thumb and forefinger against his temple, the long, glittery nail catching the light and sparkling.

‘In about ten minutes,’ he says.

‘Hey!’ I say, sitting up as the thought drops into my mind. ‘You might have my new mate, Remy, as your driver. He’s a cabbie!’

‘Is he a homophobe?’

I pause. I’m not stupid enough to believe that just because someone is nice to me means that they wouldn’t act vile towards someone from another walk of life. But I do like to think I’m a good judge of character.

‘No,’ I say eventually. ‘I don’t think so. He’s a nice guy.’

Stevie begins to heave himself off the sofa and I sit up straight. I need to grab him and lock down this weekend before he goes out. God knows what time he’ll get back from his gig tonight.