Page 75 of Fragile

The girl was extremely pretty with subtle make-up that did not hide the smattering of freckles across her nose and her long ginger hair fell down her back in waves. She was poured into the black lace dress she was wearing and had on killer heels which made her legs look amazing. I so wished I could walk in heels that tall; I had a high instep as a dancer but had never been able to master high heels.

She wore something between a concentrated face and a scowl as she looked at herself in the mirror and her cheeks were blotchy, almost like she’d been crying.

As she started to apply concealer under her eyes her sniff gave her away. She was upset.

“Are you OK?” I asked. My girls ‘need to stick together mantra’ thumping inside me.

She dashed a hand across her nose and narrowed her eyes at me. Oh dear, I didn’t like that look.

“Do I know you?” she shot out sharply, looking at me like I’d murdered her entire family and eaten their remains.

I smiled, ignoring her tartness.

“No. I don’t think so. You just look upset and I wanted to check you’re OK.”

“I’m fine,” she sniffed again.

“Clearly not. If you want to slag some guy off, I’m all ears,” I offered, with a grin.

“And you’re clearly not from the city,” she snorted, opening her clutch, and replacing the concealer with lipstick.

“Am I that transparent?”

“No, you’re nice. No one from London is nice. It’s full of tossers and airheads.”

“OK, I see. And does your beef concern a tosser or an airhead?” I asked, turning towards her so she could vent if she wanted.

“Both,” she shot out moodily.

The girl then reapplied her lipstick and walked into one of the toilet stalls without a backward glance. I looked at my reflection in the mirror, rolled my eyes and took her comment as a compliment. I was nice, what was so wrong with that?

As I left the bathroom I bumped into what felt like a brick wall. Strong hands came out to steady me and I glanced up feeling flustered.

“Max?” I panted.

“Leonie? This is a surprise. Did Gabe bring you?” He looked mouth-watering in his black tuxedo, although one side of his face was bright red.

“Yes, what are you doing here? And why is your cheek red?”

My words made him touch his face and then wiggle his jaw from side to side. “I think she dislocated my fucking jaw.” He then glanced a look up and down the empty corridor, not giving me the chance to question who ‘she’ was. “I’m actually looking for my date. If you can call it that,” he muttered, his tone suggesting he was frustrated.

“Ah, OK. What does she look like?”

He held his hand up to show his date would be around my size and said, “Small, annoying, ginger hair, massive fucking chip on her shoulder.” I immediately knew who he was referring to.

I threw a look over my shoulder. “She’s in the bathroom.”

He released a puff of frustration and glanced up at the ceiling. “I expected as much. She thinks it’s the only place she can hide where I can’t find her. She’s wrong of course.”

My eyebrows rose as I made an internal assessment before recalling Max’s comments about a girl who was the thorn in his side.

“Ah, I see. Lady something or other.” That would explain the snootiness.

He lowered his eyes to mine. “Yep, Lady fucking Swift, that’s right. I told you about her. The girl who thinks her dick is bigger than mine?”

I put out a hand, “I’d keep your voice down, she could come out any minute. You don’t want to upset her any more than you already have,” I pointed out, smoothing my hair back. “There’s a reason storms are named after women you know.”

Max snorted, “Upset. Give me strength. The woman is unshakable.”

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