Page 4 of The Life Experiment

The sound of someone using his shower startled Angus awake.

He jerked upright, exposing his naked torso from beneath the duvet.

A slice of autumnal sunlight peeked through a gap in the curtains, making him wince.

Angus had closed them hastily last night, too caught up in passionate activity to care about the morning.

A groan escaped him. Laying back on his pillow, Angus threw an arm over his eyes to shut out the world, but the woman in the shower chose that moment to start singing. Beyoncé, she was not.

With no chance of sleep now, Angus tossed the duvet aside and found his underwear on the floor. Sidestepping the woman’s possessions – Louboutin shoes, Chanel bag – he entered his ensuite.

A miracle of expensive taste and fine craftsmanship, with a large jacuzzi bath that looked out over London, the slick bathroom impressed everyone Angus brought home. So did the rest of his penthouse.

But was living there Angus’s dream? Someone once asked him that. The question had stuck with Angus ever since. At the time, he hadn’t been able to answer it. Truthfully, he still couldn’t.

The woman in the shower smiled when Angus entered the room. Even with traces of mascara darkening the skin under her eyes, she was undeniably beautiful.

The previous night, Jasper had pointed her out as she danced amidst a cluster of similarly long-limbed, bronzed friends. ‘I want to marry her,’ he swooned, eying the woman up and down.

‘I thought you didn’t believe in marriage?’ Angus replied.

‘For her, I’d change my mind.’

But it was Angus who had taken the woman home. It hadn’t been his intention, but that tended to be the way things went. People quickly tired of Jasper bragging about his car collection or listing the drugs he could get. Wearied, their eyes wandered until they landed on Angus.

While Angus might present as a humbler alternative to Jasper, his surname told a different story, at least for those in the know.

Despite their gargantuan wealth, a Google search of the Fairview-Whitleys would not bring up a boastful list of business acquisitions and society-page features.

In fact, it didn’t bring up much at all.

The family were not gossip-column fodder.

They possessed a level of wealth that rose above all that.

‘Did I wake you?’ the woman asked, her voice carrying the distinctive croak of a big night.

‘Yes,’ Angus replied. His body came alive at the thought of joining her, but as he reached for the glass door, the woman turned the shower off.

‘I can’t stay. I’ve got to go to work.’

Angus blinked. Work. Of course. Not everyone was like him, a 34-year-old with more money than he knew what to do with and no career in sight. Angus knew that statement made him sound like a dick, and at times he was a dick, but he wasn’t exactly proud of his employment status.

‘You’re rich. You don’t need to work,’ Jasper dismissed whenever Angus confessed his insecurities. ‘Being loaded is your full-time job. Trust me, you do it well.’

But the truth was that Angus was ashamed.

The one time he had gone all-in on a career, Angus lost over two million pounds of his family’s money.

But back then, when he was twenty-seven and so cocky that ‘arrogant’ was the first word people used to describe him, it had been fun to wave a cheque in the air and fund the startup of a friend of a friend.

Something in tech. Something he didn’t understand that sounded cool.

Swooping in like a hero made Angus feel powerful, until he realised he hadn’t asked the right questions – or any questions at all.

Before Angus could spiral further, the woman spoke once more. ‘Can you get me a towel?’

Nodding, Angus grabbed a fresh towel from a concealed cupboard and handed it over.

‘Thanks,’ she said, wrapping it around herself. Shuffling out of the shower, the woman caught sight of her reflection in the semi-steamed mirror and laughed. ‘Good job I saw this. I can’t go to work looking like a panda, can I?’

As she wiped the smudged makeup from her eyes, Angus realised he had no idea what work she was referencing. ‘What is it you do again?’

The woman stopped. ‘I told you last night. I plan bespoke, high-end birthday parties for dogs.’

Yes, that was it – a career so ridiculous Angus had laughed into his drink when the woman said it. She went on to explain how her father had given her a small loan to start the business. Only eighty-thousand pounds , she had said, as if it was spare change.

The woman then described the services her company provided: catering from London’s finest restaurants, entertainment from award-winning dog trainers and handcrafted puppy-party costumes, to name a few.

She informed Angus that she’d arranged six parties so far, each for pets belonging to her mother’s friends.

No cats – she didn’t do cats, or any other animals for that matter.

When she had finished her monologue, the woman took a smug sip of vodka soda.

Angus remembered sitting in the club, wide-eyed. The absurdity of the conversation seemed to be lost on everyone but him. Not for the first time, Angus wondered what he was doing, existing in a world that made no sense to him.

What was he doing ?

Focusing on the woman once more, Angus studied her sharp shoulder blades as they jutted from the top of her towel. Shame twinged his stomach. He shouldn’t judge her. At least she’d done something with her life.

‘So, what’s on the agenda for you today?’ the woman asked him.

Angus smiled, painfully aware that he couldn’t answer the question. The day stretched ahead of him like a blank canvas. The problem was, he had no paint to fill it with.

Ever since the startup debacle, Angus had lost all trust in himself. Bad habits crept in. Within months, Angus was living a life no different to the one he had at eighteen.

‘A cowardly way to live,’ he once heard his mother mutter, but Angus didn’t care if doing nothing made him a coward. Cowardice was better than failure. Sure, the empty days drove Angus insane, but what could he do? Figuring out what to do with your life at the age of thirty-four was embarrassing.

‘Your day?’ the woman prodded, when no answer was provided.

‘Oh, you know, this and that,’ Angus replied. ‘Head to the gym, catch up with friends. Chill.’

‘But it’s Wednesday,’ the woman pushed. ‘Don’t you have a job to go to?’

‘Not exactly. I mean, not in the traditional sense.’

The woman cocked her head. ‘What does that mean?’

Heat singed Angus’s cheeks. What was he supposed to say – It means fucking around aimlessly every day, killing time until I can fall asleep ?

When the silence dragged on, the woman raised her eyebrows. Angus found himself wishing he had done more with his life. Anything. Even starting a business planning birthday parties for dogs.

Bored, the woman walked through to the bedroom. Angus followed. He found her scooping her belongings from the floor. Plucking her skimpy dress from the pile, she shimmied it over her head. Without the club atmosphere and alcohol, the dress looked more tacky than enticing.

Suddenly, the woman met Angus’s gaze. ‘A few friends are heading to the Cotswolds this weekend, if you fancy it,’ she said. Even if Angus’s lack of drive was unattractive, he was still rich. ‘Think skinny dipping in an indoor pool, cocktails by a fire, that kind of thing.’

‘Sounds good, but I can’t this weekend,’ Angus replied.

‘Oh?’ The woman looked at Angus expectantly, waiting for a reason, but he said no more. He’d never been one to come up with excuses or spare people’s feelings. He simply said yes, or he said no. Either way, people listened.

When the silence verged on awkward, the woman hooked the straps of her high heels through her fingers. Approaching Angus, she angled her face towards him. ‘This was fun. We should do it again sometime.’

‘Sure,’ Angus replied. As the woman’s face erupted into a smile, he panicked. He meant another casual hook-up. She knew that, right?

Angus didn’t have long to worry about that, though, because the woman grabbed the back of his head and pulled him in for a kiss. The pressure was wrong, more desperate than passionate, and both could have used a toothbrush. Still, Angus reciprocated the gesture.

Eventually, the woman pulled away, breathless and grinning. Angus took it as his cue to walk her to the door. ‘See you soon, Angus Fairview-Whitley,’ she chimed.

Realising he couldn’t remember her name, Angus waved goodbye and watched the woman slink into the lift. She blew him a kiss, the doors closed, then she was gone.

Briskly, he shut the door of his twenty-seventh-floor haven, trying not to think about how little connection he had to the outside world. For a moment, he debated making a coffee, but caffeine meant waking up properly, and that would mean more of the day to fill.

Sloping back to his bedroom, Angus flopped onto the unmade super king.

The faint odours of sex and perfume lingered on the sheets, but Jinny would be here at twelve to clean it away.

By tonight, Angus would slip into bed and find no trace of the woman he had spent the night with.

He would fall asleep how he spent his days – alone.

When a yawn bubbled up Angus’s throat, he glanced at the time. It was barely 8 am. What to do?

What to do ?

He could go to the gym early, he supposed, but at this time it would be busy. What if he couldn’t use the machines he liked?

He could cook. Sort dinners for the week or try out recipes he’d learned when he last visited Japan.

Cooking was Angus’s favourite way to de-stress, something he craved now the startup failure was on his mind again.

But cooking in the morning meant he would have nothing to do in the evening. It only delayed his boredom.

Maybe he could go out for breakfast instead, but who with? Angus’s closest friends were probably still asleep, and he couldn’t go alone . Imagine if someone saw him.

Angus sighed. Once, living like this had been fun.

Growing up in a house with no rules or limits was freeing.

Impromptu shopping trip? Take Father’s card.

A last-minute holiday? Where to, and how long for?

Studying was for those who needed a job.

Consequences were for those who didn’t have connections in high places to smooth things over.

Angus knew his privilege, and he enjoyed the fruits of it – until he realised how hollow the fruits were.

Memories of parties and puppy love swept through Angus.

The stately homes with endless bedrooms. The taste of fruit-scented lip gloss mingled with spirits stolen from parents’ alcohol collections.

The names and faces seemed so transient now.

Drunken moments that had promised happiness but delivered none.

Angus knew this wasn’t something he could ever say out loud. After all, how could anyone feel sorry for him? But Angus didn’t want pity. He wanted… What did he want?

Anything. Anything but this.

Propping himself up on a pillow, Angus grabbed his phone. Plenty of notifications were waiting. Money might not buy happiness but it certainly bought friends, although Angus suspected his definition of ‘friend’ was more transactional than most.

Hitting Instagram, he learned he had gained a new follower request. Strange, given that his account was private. Someone clearly wanted to find him.

Opening the notification, Angus saw it was the woman from last night.

Her bio informed him that her name was Fiona ‘Fifi’ Fortston. His finger hovered over the ‘follow back’ button, but he didn’t commit to the gesture. Instead, he went back to his homepage. There, something caught his eye.

Do you ever wonder where your life is heading? an advert asked.

Swallowing hard, Angus read on. The more he read, the more the blank stretch of days ahead filled with colour. This experiment would last ten weeks, and that wasn’t including the application process. That meant that for at least ten weeks, he would be busy. He would wake up with a purpose.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Angus clicked the link and submitted his details. There , he thought, settling into his pillow. You’ve done something with your day, after all.