The A-List Collection. Victoria Fox
eventually.
‘Darling!’ Gordon French called up the stairs in a loud baritone. ‘Pamela and Freddie are here.’
Chloe sighed. Not even the militia of extended family was enough to distract her from her black mood. She swung her legs off the bed and headed downstairs to greet her jovial uncle, and an aunt who always smelled of soup.
Two days later Chloe arrived at Shaik, a celebrity hang-out in Soho, to celebrate the launch of The Hides’ new album.
She spotted Nate hanging about outside as the car pulled up. He’d told her to meet him there-the perfect stage management for their first UK shot together in months, no doubt.
‘Babe!’ he called as she exited the car. She knew she looked good in a clinging jersey dress and biker boots. Paparazzi surged forward.
‘Hi, Nate,’ she said coolly, fighting down the butterflies in her stomach. Cameras circled them like vultures. When Nate kissed her, she felt nothing.
Inside, the place was heaving. Designers and DJs, models and musicians, actors and artists chatted and drank in their cliques, most of whom had parents who were famous in the eighties. Long-legged beauties leaned, bored, against the bar, their feet crossed at the ankles; an up-and-coming male singer in skinny jeans and a blazer, his quiff arranged on his head like a croissant, held fort in a grey-leather booth; a chart-topping twenty-something with her forty-six-year-old boyfriend downed cocktails amid a swarm of admiring hangers-on. Everybody wore a slightly pained expression, as though it hurt to be this cool. Chloe felt distanced from it all.
‘Let’s get a drink,’ said Nate, guiding her through. As an afterthought, he added, ‘You look nice.’
‘Thanks.’ Chloe scanned the room as she trailed after Nate. How many of the women here had he slept with? All this time she’d thought the London girls gave her bitchy looks because of her modelling, and it could just as well be down to them shagging her boyfriend. She felt a twist of humiliation.
He got them a couple of sambuca shots. Chloe tossed hers back in one, wincing as the aniseed torched her throat.
‘Thirsty?’ Nate teased, ordering two more. He rammed his tongue down her throat while they were waiting. It tasted grim.
Chloe heard her name being called and pulled away.
‘Chloe, hey!’ It was Melissa Darling. ‘Hello, Nate.’ She put her beer down on the bar.
‘Hey.’
Chloe hugged her agent hello. ‘I’m so happy to see you.’ She meant it.
‘Me, too,’ said Melissa. ‘They’re going mad for you two outside.’ She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. ‘I think they’ve been lonely without you!’
Nate smirked. ‘Amazing what a slice of the American pie can do for you, eh, babe?’ It wasn’t clear which woman he was talking to.
Melissa gave a polite smile. ‘Congratulations on the launch.’
‘Ta.’
‘You look gorgeous, Chloe.’ She turned back to her client. ‘LA suits you.’
‘Thanks. I can’t wait to go back.’
Nate cut in. ‘All right, Chlo, keep your knickers on.’ He winked at Melissa. ‘We don’t get to see much of each other in LA, busy schedules and all that,’ he explained. ‘It’s quite nice being back for a bit, don’t you think?’
Chloe couldn’t look at him. ‘Sure,’ she said.
There was an awkward silence.
‘I’ll call you,’ said Melissa, kissing her. ‘Let’s go for coffee before you fly back.’
‘That sounds good.’
‘All the best with the album, Nate.’
He nodded through a mouthful of beer as she moved off.
‘Right, I’m on,’ he said, gesturing over Chloe’s bare shoulder. He planted a wet one on her cheek and swaggered through a gaggle of fans.
Chloe turned. The rest of the band was grabbing their instruments on a dimly lit stage in one corner-she hadn’t even noticed it when she’d walked in. The mike, lit dramatically from behind, stood patiently as Nate parted the waves of the crowd. He high-fived a flurry of outstretched palms as he mounted the steps and took his position.
‘Hey,’ Nate grunted into the mike. ‘Thanks for coming.’ There was a tinny shriek.
Chloe ordered another shot. She downed the sticky liquid as soon as it arrived.
Fuck it. She ordered another as the guitars started up. Then another. She’d need a good dose of Dutch courage to get through the pretence.
Nate strutted across the stage in his skinny jeans, shaking his head and jerking the mike, flipping it round in his hands as he sang-or largely spoke-the words. The crowd was doing most of the work, taking over the lyrics dutifully whenever Nate plugged the mike in their direction. Normally Chloe would join in, but she didn’t even know how this new one went.
They only did a couple of numbers, and when it was over Chloe felt the room spinning. She wanted to go home, she couldn’t be arsed with any of it.
Fuzzily she walked over to one of the booths and slumped down. She felt like everyone in the place was looking at her, laughing at her, knowing what a stupid fool she’d been.
‘Hi there.’ A bloke came to sit next to her, someone she vaguely recognised from a party she’d been to with Nate a year before. Was he a playwright? She couldn’t remember.
‘Hey,’ she said back, disinterested. She didn’t care if she appeared rude-she was too tired and emotional and drunk to bother how she came across.
‘Want a drink?’ He moved closer. His hair was thinning and he was wearing little round glasses in the style of John Lennon, she guessed, though he just looked like a freak.
She rested her chin on her hands. ‘No, I’ve had enough.’
‘I’m Baz.’
‘Great.’ How could this guy just waltz in and start chatting her up, knowing she was officially with Nate? Clearly she was the only person in the whole world to whom relationships actually meant something.
‘Want to get out of here?’ the man asked.
Chloe’s attention was distracted. She could see Nate talking to a pretty brunette at the bar. The girl was giggling at everything he said and tossing her hair, her bright red lips wet with gloss. And then-no, he couldn’t be, not while his girlfriend was sitting right here-one of his hands reached down and patted the girl’s behind. Not only that but it stayed there, and now he was leaning in, whispering something in her ear.
That was it.
‘There’s something I’ve got to do first,’ said Chloe, getting to her feet.
Feeling surprisingly calm, she walked over to where Nate and the girl were standing. Fuck him-she’d been Little Miss Nice for way too long. He deserved everything that was coming his way.
‘Excuse me,’ she said, tapping Nate’s shoulder.
He looked up, an inane grin on his face. He didn’t even do her the good grace of appearing guilty. ‘Hey, babe,’ he said instead, eyes foggy.
‘I’m not your babe,’ Chloe spat.
He was confused. ‘What did you say?’ The girl next to him opened her doe eyes wide, relishing the drama.
‘Do you want me to spell it out?’ Chloe demanded, hands on hips.
‘Chill out, babe, you’re making a scene.’
‘No.’ She stuck her chin in the air. ‘I won’t chill out. Why should I?’
Now