Page 46

Story: Lucky Break

“We’ve not even had a drink yet,” Layla says. “And besides, what I’m smelling here isn’t that, it’s…fresh sex. Angelica’s had someone here, I know it. Perhaps they’re still here,” she begins walking through to the kitchen yelling names. “Damon! Leo! Sebastiaaaaaaan!”

“See!” I say, triumphant, “there’s no one here.” Then, she spots it. The used condom in my bedside bin, resting there, betraying my secret with its presence, on top of bundles of tissues, used ear-buds and make-up wipes. “Aha! I knew it!”

“Knew what?” Madison peers into the bin. “Angelica, you’re not meant to stick the ear-bud all the way into your ear, you’ll go deaf.”

“Not that,” Layla says and Madison spots it.

“That’s Damon’s.”

“What? How do you know? That’s so creepy! Seriously, how can you tell?”

She laughs. “I can’t. I was taking a guess, I knew Leo left, Sebastian didn’t come so there was only really one prime suspect, it was either Damon or that fit Domino’s guy who delivered the pizzas at 3a.m.”

“Nah, I got with him,” Layla says. We’re then temporarily distracted as she fills us in on what it was like to have sex in the back of a pizza van, and are dismayed to discover that the pair poured garlic and herb sauce off of each other and licked it off.

“That’ll help with the diet,” I say. “I can never have a tub of that ever again now I know where you’ve put it…”

“But now we know where you’ve put it, or rather Damon has! God, are we really going back there again?”

“He’s changed this time, he really has.”

Madison downs the rest of the white wine she’d poured for herself. “Bingo, I win.”

Turns out the pair have an ongoing game where whenever I insist Damon has changed, Madison drinks, and when I insist that the girls he’s got with mean nothing, or that it didn’t happen, Layla drinks.

“If you’re going to be pathetic, we may as well be drunk,” explains Layla. I can’t fault the logic.

“Honestly, though,” I say, beginning to pull out all the face-masks I own and spreading them out on the floor for us to take our pick. “It does feel different this time. He said so many nice things. If you’d heard him I swear you’d be convinced.”

“Except he didn’t have the balls to stick around and convince us, did he?”

I remember how quickly he shoved his clothes on, there’s practically skid marks in my hallway he got out so speedily. “No,” I shake my head. “But you’ll see one day.”

“We hope the same for you,” Madison says, smearing a chocolate mask on her face that looks revolting. “That one day you’ll see.”

“We only tell you all of this because we love you,” Layla says. She’s stripped off and is just in her thong. She wants us to top up her tan on the back, which I dutifully do, shaking the can of peach-scented tan and getting ready to spray.

“His career’s tanking, his agent has said you’re his best bet to get his fame back on track, or he’ll drop him.” Layla tells me.

I begin to spray.

“Ohhh, don’t shoot the messenger,” Layla squeals, the tan is cold against her skin and I assure her it isn’t intentional. What they are saying matches what I overheard Samantha saying in the toilet. It does also make sense, there’s no denying my career is soaring right now and Damon’s isn’t.

“Can’t it be both?” I ask, only slightly aware how needy I sound. “That he’s realised he likes me just at the exact same time his agent wants him to get back with me?”

“Oh, sweet, sweet Angelica,” Madison shakes her masked face. “That would be nice but I don’t think that’s what’s happening here.”

“I’ll ask him, that’s what I’ll do.”

“He’ll only come up with an elaborate lie,” Layla says. “He may be between jobs, but he really should take up acting. The man can lie for England.”

“Is the sex, at least , good?”

“It’s got to be, the man must practically have chocolate for a willy, the amount she lets him get away with.”

I pause. I want to be able to tell them that it’s mind-blowing, addictive and that I can’t get enough.

The strange thing is it does seem to be addictive and I can’t get enough, I always want more but…

it’s not mind blowing. I can’t figure out why this is the man who has super-glued himself into my thoughts.

Maybe I just need to prove something to him, to myself, to everyone.

And the only way to do that is to make him obsessed with me.

“It’s…fine.”

“ Fine ?” Madison yells. “Good god, woman. The sex with Marc throws me into orbit, the man has me screaming words that have not yet been invented, it’s never boring and there’s always something new. Last night—”

Layla cuts her off and squeezes my knee.

“Not all sex has to be stratospheric, after all my mam always said, ‘don’t marry the man who you have the most insane sex with, that man is a psychopath.’ But if you’re going to end up with Damon and, boo for us, it does seem that’s what you want, then it should at least be good – the kind of sex you can imagine having for years.

You should definitely be getting yours.”

“Yes! Are you getting yours?” Madison asks intently.

I shake my head. “But I don’t think it’s his fault, I should be more assertive with what I want.

I’ve managed with all the others. But Damon, I just…

let him do what he wants. And what he wants is a BJ and three thrusts.

” I clutch my neck. “My throat is sore!” I’m beginning to feel really sorry for myself.

A hangover comedown, blended with the reality of my situation: why am I like this with Damon? He’s got me loopy, for no good reason.

“Deep-throated?” Layla nods sympathetically. “I hate it when they do that.”

“Oh I like it!” Madison winks. “If I’m ever short of work in telly, I reckon I could get a job as a sword swallower.”

“Can you like, damage yourself from it? He wasn’t at it for long.” I croak for exaggeration. “Imagine I end up not being able to speak, all because of Damon and his stupid willy.”

“You won’t lose your actual voice,” Layla comforts.

“But make sure you don’t lose your true voice, Angelica, if you know what I mean.

You’re loved by so many people, us, your family.

You don’t exist on this planet to please Damon.

If it’s real love, as you say it is, then he’ll love you for who you are – who you were back in the house, who you are now and who you’ll be in the future.

It won’t be dependent on you staying one size or always having this swishy blonde hair, or being popular with the press, or putting up with crappy sex.

He’ll love you, for you . Just like we do. ”

I squeeze both of their hands. “You’re the best girls, you really are. Now, let’s talk about something other than me and Damon. Tell me, please , about the orgy! And I’ve not checked the headlines for a day! What’s going on, gossip-wise?”

Madison gives us all the details of the pool orgy, how it ended with her and two of the girls tangled in each other, kissing, with Marc ‘enjoying’ watching them.

“I think I might still have something my hair!” she confessed, and Layla swiftly sent her into the bathroom with one of those purple shampoos that are good for blonde hair and which, we reasoned, might also be good for getting sperm out.

It was such ‘us’ logic: couldn’t be explained to anyone outside of the three of us, but made perfect sense in this room.

While she was showering and singing Pitbull to herself, loudly and out of tune, Layla and I opened up our phones and took part in our favourite hobby: scrolling and analysing what we were seeing.

Working our way through all the different social media apps, and then each of the websites.

I knew it was juicy when Layla’s eyes rolled to the back of her head and she exclaimed, “Oh for fuck’s sake, no one’s falling for that, are they?

” She then instructed me to open up Samantha’s page, where she was standing, vat of soup in front of her and ladle in hand, in full glam, grinning at the camera. The caption read:

Until now, I’ve kept quiet about my ongoing charity work, but I’ve decided to let the world know about my favourite way to spend an afternoon: serving up soup to those a lot less fortunate than I am.

I hope this will inspire others to go out into their own community and make change.

The people who come to this project I visited in Liverpool recently are some of the nicest humans you’ve ever met, they’ve just fallen on hard times and need someone like me to smile and hear about their day.

Now, tell me in the comments, what will you do today to make someone smile?

We scroll through the comments, it’s all, you’re an inspiration and gorgeous and kind, are you the perfect person?

“My mam volunteers there sometimes,” Madison says. “She’ll know what actually happened.” She rings her, putting her on speaker.

“Mam, you’re on loudspeaker, the girls are here.”

“Hi girls, miss you, make sure you come round for wine soon. I’ve cut every little bit of press out about you, I’m making a folder. Angelica, you make sure you’re eating something won’t you?”

Madison cuts her off.

“Yeah, I’ll get them round but Mam, have you seen Samantha’s meant to have been down the soup kitchen?”

“Oh it’s been absurd, we’ve all been talking about it. But we’re so low on volunteers at the moment she’s hoping it’ll help us attract some more.”

“Did she make a donation?” At least if this is Samantha’s charity of choice, it’ll be going to a worthy cause if she wins the donation that comes with the TV award, I think.

“Yeah, and she asked for one of those big cheques! That’s when Joan said, politely, that we don’t get those big cheques out for donations under £500.”

“Angelica, I know you’re wise to it all, but people seem to really like what Samantha’s done here…”

“Roger that, don’t you worry Lynn, I’m on it.” Maybe she’s right – maybe I should get back in this vote if I want to make sure my charity is in with a chance. After all, it’s close to my heart.

We hang up the phone and, along with my girls, I begin to hatch a plan.

* * *