Page 20 of Time of Your Life

Twelve

Ysolde

“Oh, god—” Lala says, panicking and averting her eyes. “Look away—”

“What?” I do try to look away, but I don’t know what I’m looking away from, so it’s not incredibly effective.

We’re at Tramp. Everyone on the planet is in here tonight, except for my boyfriend (he’s on his way from a photo shoot for Rolling Stone ).

I’m actually out by myself tonight! I gave Aleki the night off.

He wasn’t mad on it, but we made a deal—he’d drop Lala and I off, and I had to be with Joah or Richie the entire night.

He must like Jo more than he wants to tell me.

Kekoa hasn’t left me with anyone else since what happened happened.

Anyway, Lala’s elbowing me with great urgency now. “Look down! Look down!”

“Why!”

“Well, hello there,” says the smarmy voice of my dumbest ex.

I give Mitchell Montrose-Bowes a long-suffering smile.

Lala fucking hates this one. Hates. Tolerated him when we were together, ready to set him on fire once we’d broken up.

Lala hangs her head in defeat as Mitch leans in and kisses my cheek. He moves in to kiss Lala’s, but she dodges him and it’s overt and hilarious. Lala can sometimes strike people as abrasive, but that’s mostly because she is exactly that. And I love her for it.

Mitch gives her an impatient smile “Always a pleasure, La.”

“La,” she says to him.

“What?” Mitch looks between us, confused.

“LaLa. There’s two.”

Mitch rolls his eyes. “I was shortening it.”

She nods with a fake empathy all over her. “And I wasn’t having a fucking bar of it.”

“Fair enough.” He shrugs before he turns to me. “It’s not true, is it?”

I lift a bored eyebrow at him. “What isn’t?”

“There’s no way you’re fucking about with Joah Harrigan.”

My head pulls back. “Excuse me?”

Mitch shakes his golden head of hair, like I’m the silliest billy in all the land.

“He’s beneath you,” he tells me.

Lala grabs two drinks from the tray of a waitress passing by us—they’re not walking around serving drinks, by the way. She just hijacked someone else’s beverages. But it’s Lala Caravella, and who’s going to stop her from getting exactly what she wants—? Not I, to be sure.

Lalee hands me one of the drinks, takes a long sip of hers, zeroes in on Mitch.

“Well, you were beneath her and she fucked you, so—”

Mitch gives her a fake smile and flips her off; she mirrors him, does it all right back.

“So it’s true then?” Mitch asks, eyebrow still up.

I stare at him a few long seconds. “I know you know it is.”

“I’m just shocked—” Mitch shrugs. “He’s very working-class, Featherstonhaugh.”

“So?” I cross my arms over my chest. I hate this shit—I don’t much care for anyone being talked down upon, but Joah?

Mitch shrugs like he means nothing by it, but he does. “Just didn’t know you were into that sort of thing.”

“You really shouldn’t talk about him—” I shake my head.

Mitch looks pleased to think he’s perhaps struck a nerve in me. “You’re protective of him?”

“No—” I shake my head, but yes, obviously—“He doesn’t need my protection. I just think that if he heard you were running your mouth about him he’d—” I mime a throat being slit before I smile uncomfortably. “I don’t think you could take him.”

Mitch looks offended now. “I fought a fucking lion in my last movie—”

I roll my eyes. “Your stunt double fought a lion—”

Lala cuts in. “—And didn’t he lose, like, a massive chunk of his arm—?”

Mitch gives us this yeah and—? look. “That’s why we use stuntmen.”

“Yeah, I don’t think Joah’s going to fight your stuntman though, MB—” I grimace. “I suspect he’ll just pop you right in that pretty little nose you paid for.”

Mitch’s chest puffs up, defensive mode: activated. “That’s an unsubstantiated rumour—”

“We don’t need it substantiated, Mitch,” Lala cuts in. “Your nose literally changed shapes. We’re not daft.”

“I beg to differ,” he says to Lala and I start trying to pull her away.

Last thing any of us need right now is my best friend getting into a tiff with my ex-boyfriend.

“Your new movie’s shit!” Lala calls to him.

“Yeah, well—you two look like whores in the YSL campaign,” he calls back.

“Well.” I give him a little shrug. “You’re the expert on that, so”—Lalee and I keep backing away—“I’ll take your word for it.”

And then I back into someone who yelps “ow,” then shoves me off them.

I swing around and find myself face-to-face with Meghan Miller, the girl Mitch cheated on me with.

Lala nods, impressed. “Brilliant timing, wow—”

“What are the chances—?” I say to Lala before I look back at Meghan. “Meghan. Hateful as always.”

She rolls her eyes at me, then flips her hair over her shoulder. “I got the L’Oreal campaign. Heard you went for it—sorry.”

She pretends to grimace.

“Oh, no—Darling, you’re confused—” Lala shakes her head as she says to me under her breath, “But what else is new?”

Lala clears her throat, giving Meghan a sorry smile.

“Ys was offered that campaign—she passed on it. That’s why you got it.

She’s the face of Versace now, didn’t you hear?

How would you hear, I suppose—” Lala’s waffling on to herself now.

“You run in such different circles. L’Oreal and Versace, they’re not really the same thing, are they? ”

“Down, girl,” I whisper to my guard dog of a best friend.

Lalee points to Mitch. “Isn’t that what you said to Meghan that night?”

“Look—” Mitch gestures behind me. “Here comes your Working-Class Hero now.”

I give MB a final, disparaging look before I dart over to Jo, quick as I can. He’s quite perceptive, Joah—I wouldn’t want him catching wind of any of the last five minutes and kicking something up.

“Oi,” Joah says, slipping his arms around my waist, brushing his mouth over me—but he’s watching MB.

“Hi—” I intentionally hold his eyes for a few seconds, try to tell him I’m fine, it’s fine —I catch Richie’s eyes behind him, give him a smile. “Hi—”

He gives me a little nod, points to Jo, signals that he’s been drinking.

I can smell it on him, actually. Shit.

I try to distract him, glancing between the brothers. “How was it?”

“Fine—” Jo nods, not looking away from MB across the room. “Who the fuck is that?”

“Who?” I pretend like I don’t know.

“That fucking blond lad your best friend’s mouthing off at—you know, the one you were yapping to when I walked in—”

“Oh—Mitch?” I laugh it off. I feel a tiny bit nervous, actually. “He’s no one. Just my ex-boyfriend.”

Joah scowls at me. “Fuck off—! How many ex-boyfriends you got?”

Richie lets out an exasperated breath on my behalf. “Fuck, Jo—”

I tilt my head at my head. “Interesting question. About 268 less than the notches on your bedframe. Should we keep talking about my exes, Jo?”

Joah thinks to himself. “Yeah. Nope.”

“So—” I look between the Harrigan boys. “I wanna hear about this shoot—! It was with Jill Furmanovsky, right?”

“Yeah!” Rich nods. “She’s fucking incredi—”

“Nah—” Jo says, already moving past me towards Mitch. “I wanna meet that fucking geezer—”

I chase after him quickly. “No, you don’t—”

“Aye, I do.” Joah positions himself in front of Mitch. “Oi,” he says to get MB’s attention, except he gets Lala’s too. Joah flashes her a smile—it’s a bit bleary. “Hey, La.” Then Jo looks back at Mitch. “And who the fuck are you?”

Mitch looks past Joah to me for a second—honestly, he looks nervous.

Honestly, I’m beginning to wonder if he should be.

“I’m Mitch,” he says.

Joah squints at him. “Why does your face look familiar?”

Mitch glances around, looks annoyed he has to say why that might be out loud. “I’m an actor?”

“Nah—” Joah shakes his head without missing even a beat. “Can’t be that, can it? I don’t watch shit films.”

Jo flicks a cocky little eyebrow of his up, and if I wasn’t busy feeling incredibly stressed about whatever the absolute fuck is going on, I probably would have thought that all quite sexy.

I shrug, trying to keep it light and breezy. “Maybe he just has one of those faces…”

“Jo, do you know what—” Lala says, and she has her sparky eyes on, which is no good for me.

I suspect at any given moment, my capacity would be absolutely maxed out with either sparky-eyed Lala or a drunk Joah, but both—?

Fuck. And she doesn’t know. She doesn’t know Joah’s drunk.

And she’s not hypervigilant to the way people hold themselves or their eye movements because she hasn’t had to be, which is why she’s being a brat—not malicious—when she says: “Mitch was just telling Sol how you’re beneath her. ”

Joah squares up. God, he’s tall—he slouches a lot, actually. Still incredibly tall with a slouch, but when he’s standing up straight, oh my god.

Jo’s eyes pinch. “Was he fucking just?”

I cover my face with my hands. “Lalee—”

Lala nudges me apologetically. “Sorry, I just hate him so much—” She nods towards MB.

“What you reckon, La—Should I show Mitch what it’s like to be six feet beneath the ground?”

I turn to Rich now, eyes big and a bit desperate.

“Yes!” Lala says, excited because evidently she’s incorrigible.

“Jo…” Richie says, sounds like a big brother. Joah looks back at him, looks annoyed he’s there, actually.

“No, you should not—” I say pointedly to Joah, standing directly in front of him, hands on my hips. Then I look at Mitch over my shoulder. “And Mitch should leave.”

He looks cross about that. “But I didn’t do sh—”

“Listen—” Richie slings an arm around Mitch, sort of guiding him towards the door. “Stay if you want man, free country and all that shit, but my brother’s had a few tonight and he’s fucking unhinged at the soberest of times, so I’m encouraging you—for your sake— fuck off .”

“Yeah!” Lala beams. “Fuck off!”

Mitch does, thank god. Don’t think he leaves as much as he gets out of Joah’s line of sight.

Joah stares at Lala for a couple of seconds, a new fondness for her on his face. “You’re a fucking good egg, La.”

“Yes!” She’s delighted. “Thank you! Not everyone gets that—”

Jo nods towards the fire escape.

“Wanna have a fag outside?” He gestures towards me. “This one don’t smoke.”