Page 142 of Falling for You
I’ve decided that if I’m going to turn up unannounced, I need to do it politely. So, I’ve planned my journey to arrive at eleven thirty in the morning, laden with flowers and cake and a big, ‘hey, look at this, your nephew is in London!’ smile.
Stevie used to say how she never did much when he was living with her, so I’m hoping that I’ll be a welcome surprise (which feels a bit presumptuous considering she’s spent the past few weeks ignoring me). We can spend the day together chatting and reminiscing. I’ve only met her around eighttimes in my entire life, so God knows what we’ll reminisce about, but I’m hoping my visit will end with Aunt Tell being so full of nostalgia for her childhood that she’ll be with me on the first flight back to New York to see Mom. And there we have it. I can go back home, Mom will be happy, and everything will go back to normal.
Well, not this current normal. A better normal. The normal we used to have.
CHAPTER NINE
Annie
So it turns out that there is a foolproof plan to find the confidence to wear your homemade bat costume to a fancy party when your mates are next to you looking like contestants forAmerica’s Next Top Model.
I don’t think there will be many people who need to see this plan, but I’ll share it anyway. Just in case.
Step one: have a temper tantrum. Now, it’s quite important that you do this alone, especially when you are thirty-two years old. My temper tantrum involved taking the costume off, crying into my pillow whilst watchingMean Girlsand repeatedly thinkingWhy me?
Honestly, I was one play of Evanescence away from being right back to my fourteen-year-old self.
Step two: call your mum. Okay, yes, I was still in child mode at this point. In my defence, my mum is the only person who loves Halloween and costumes as much as I do and fully understands the effort it takes to make an entire costume from scratch. She’s also my biggest hype woman. If it were up to her, the costume would have bigger wings and some form of smoke machine.
Step three: play Beyoncé. I don’t need to explain this one. It is tempting to play Adele and crawl back into bed but, and I must stress this is of the utmost importance, if you do that then there is no going back. You have been warned.
Step four: get drunk before leaving the house, have your friends take several photos of you and dance intensely to ‘I’m Every Woman’ by Whitney Houston.
Et voilà! You have me, in full bat costume, at the masquerade ball surrounded by glamorous, leggy, beautiful people, feeling like the most powerful person in the room.
Or, at least, that’s how I feel right now. Once the vodka wears off, who knows how I’ll feel. As long as they don’t play Adele I should be fine.
If they play Lewis Capaldi, I’m screwed.
I catch sight of my reflection in one of the many mirrors dotted around the ballroom and feel myself glow with pride.
It’s not very often I’ll say this, but I look fantastic.
Not in the same way that Tanya or Penny look fantastic. Obviously. Tanya had been thinking about this masquerade ball for weeks so had plenty of time to plan her outfit. She’s dressed like an extra inBridgerton, with an incredible gown that pushes her boobs up to her chin and an elaborate, swirly mask that twists over her eyes. Her Afro hair is tinted with blonde flecks at the bottom, sitting perfectly. Honestly, she was made for this theme.
Penny is wearing her pale pink dress. It’s less dramatic than Tanya’s but more slimming. Her mask is gold and attached to a long stick that she holds up to her face, in a mysterious, very cool manner.
I take in my surroundings. Tanya wasn’t joking when she said that this was a party that we couldn’t miss. I’m still amazed that we were let in, to be honest, but Tanya strutted up to the bouncer with such confidence that he ticked our names off the guest list without even looking. It’s in a huge, grand ballroom, with an embellished ceiling and an enormous, glistening chandelier. A DJ is propped up in the corner, bopping around, and swanning around the dance floor are waiters and waitresses dressed in impeccably neat uniforms and wearing elegant masks. They do all have knives sticking out of various parts of their bodies, though, which I quite enjoy.
In the corners of the room, you can see the branding for Midnight, the new fragrance, that we’re all apparently here to celebrate. I’m still not sure how I feel about spending Halloween (my favourite night of the year) at a product launch for a beauty company, but I have to say, I don’t think I’ll ever get to go to an event as grand as this again. I wouldn’t be let in.
Penny loops her arm in mine. ‘Come on, let’s go get some drinks.’
Almost everyone here is dressed like Tanya, elegant and stunning, but there are some people towering on stilts and bent double, with gory make-up and smiles that split their cheeks. I’m not totally alone, I just look like I’ve been hired to be here as a performer.
Well, there are a few people also in fancy dress, but not nearly to the same extent that I am. Although that’s not new for me. Nobody is ever dressed as extravagantly as I am.
Penny plucks two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter and turns to spot Tanya, who has weaved through the crowds towards some colleagues. I shrug as Penny hands me a glass and we clink them together.
‘You really do look amazing.’ Penny grins at me. ‘When are you going to do the wing reveal?’
I look around. At some point I need to pull the lever and have my bat wings pop out in all their glory. This was fine to execute when the night was going to be spent in our flat, filled with my friends who all know I’m a bit weird and love me anyway. Now I’m at a very fancy event and I’m slightly concerned that I’ll display my wings and immediately be bundled away by security for fear of being some form of protester. What sort of protester would arrive in a full bat costume I’m not sure, unless there’s something funky in those perfume bottles that’s harmful to animals.
Hey, maybe Ishouldbe protesting.
I might just need some more vodka.
‘I’m not sure,’ I mumble into my glass, my cheeks warming as another clique of beautiful strangers waft past us. ‘I have to do it, otherwise I’ll be annoyed at myself for the rest of the year.’
