Читать книгу Black Diamond - Havana Adams - Страница 21

CHAPTER 11

The next day, Lola woke in a bad mood.

She’d tossed and turned all night and then at 5 a.m. as the sun was starting to rise, she’d fallen into a restless sleep. When she finally dragged herself out of bed, to start the day, she had the dreadlocked waiter on her mind. Hitting the gym, she put herself through a gruelling workout with the punch bags, determined to knock away the unease that had settled in the pit of her stomach and which seemed unwilling to leave. This was the problem with doing business with friends, Lola thought darkly. Once upon a time, she might have called Amber so they could hit the shops on Rodeo or at The Grove, but these days Amber was all work and no fun. Amber was always talking about strategy and media presence and ways to monetise. Lola sighed. Despite the fact that she’d been thrown out of every exclusive high school on the West Coast, she was, it seemed, finally getting a career; shame it had to come at the expense of her best friend.

After she had showered, the thought of returning to the empty apartment filled Lola with a dread that she chose not to examine too closely and instead she swung her car down Fairfax towards 3^rd and headed to The Grove Mall. After she’d valet-parked Lola walked to the main thoroughfare of the mall. She glanced at her watch and sighed. She was bored and boredom, with her, usually led to trouble. With that thought she headed towards Barneys. As she strode through the high-end department store, flicking through the racks of merchandise without really noticing them, Lola bit back a sigh of irritation and flipped open her cell phone. She waved away an eager-looking assistant and listened as the phone rang and rang. No response. Lola felt anger and frustration course through her. It was happening, she thought, she was losing Amber too.

In her world, people always left. She had learned that young. Deep down, she had always marvelled that her friendship with Amber had survived quite so long. But as with everything in her life, Lola had known that it was just a matter of time.

“This is Amber, you know the drill.” Lola ended the call without leaving a message, carelessly dropping the phone into her bag. She turned back to the department store and gave it her full attention. Lola felt a thrill run through her that had little to do with the exclusive, expensive designs on display. She could buy half the store and the other half, designers would gladly gift to her for free. Since childhood, her mother’s name had meant that bundles of free designer goods routinely turned up and since her turn as Miss Golden Globe, the summer she had turned sixteen, hot up and coming designers would often ensure that packages of their latest collections made their way to her. Who better to showcase their wares for free than one of Hollywood’s up and coming It girls? But the itch that Lola longed to scratch wasn't one that shopping could reach, the adrenalin that coursed through her had little to do with embellished LBDs or this season’s Manolos. The pressure that had been building in her chest these last days would be solved by only one thing.

She grabbed the first thing, a dress and then another item and another and another, barely glancing at the items and not bothering to check sizes. These things would never be worn. Barely pausing to draw breath Lola moved towards a fitting room, drawing the curtain firmly behind her. She stared at the stash of clothes barely seeing them, feeling only the thrum of excitement. Quickly, she stashed the items into her oversized Gucci tote bag and with a deep breath she emerged from the fitting room. Lola strode towards the exit with her head held high. She nodded at the assistant, who waved her off. She gave a wide smile at a stylist she’d known for years. Lola lived for these moments, the charge of excitement coursing through her, her heart beating fast and then faster, as the exit came into sight, as she saw the daylight that lay beyond. She already had one foot outside of the store when she heard a voice.

“Miss Wilde.” Lola turned, her heart in her mouth, her pulse accelerating off the scale. “Have a nice day,” the security guard said.

Lola gave him a brilliant smile.

“You too,” she replied and continued out of the store, losing herself in the throng of mid-afternoon shoppers, her loot a pleasing weight at the bottom of her bag.

The buzz never lasted long. And by the time she had walked the length of the main concourse of the mall, Lola was already feeling altogether earthbound. She was no longer flying and she was left again with a niggling feeling of dissatisfaction. As she contemplated another session of lifting her eyes were drawn to a small Italian restaurant with its doors thrown wide open. Her position on the sidewalk gave her a clear view of the long wooden bar inside and there, behind the bar, was the dreadlocked waiter from the night before at Gin. For a moment, Lola wondered if this was what had really drawn her to The Grove today, this dreadlocked waiter who had hovered in her dreams last night. Before she could question her motives, she found herself changing direction, her legs carrying her into the restaurant. As she took a seat at the bar, casually resting her handbag and its weighty contraband on the bar stool next to her, Lola made a sudden realisation. She was nervous. She sat on the stool, waiting until finally he turned to her. What if he didn’t remember her, Lola thought suddenly. But he was already moving towards her, a half smile lighting his face.

“Hello again.”

“Right back at you,” Lola replied, working to keep her voice cool even as she felt an unexpected sense of anticipation start to grow.

“Simon.” The waiter held his hand out across the bar and Lola took it, her own small hand engulfed in his huge paw. For a moment she just stared at him and then with an embarrassed start, she realised that he was waiting for her to order. Her eyes darted across the board.

“Just a lemonade,” Lola said hurriedly and busied herself glancing at a food menu. Moments later he set a tall glass in front of her before taking her food order and advising her of the day’s specials.

“You’re from England?” Lola asked finally placing the hint of an accent that had been teasing at her.

“Mostly,” Simon smiled, hovering in front of her as he wiped down the bar. “My mother is from Jamaica and my dad is English, I’ve lived in both places.”

“Nice.” Lola took a sip of her drink and paused as the silence between them lengthened. She watched as Simon turned to serve another customer, watched as his biceps flexed and the tattoos that ran the length of his arm seemed to ripple. Lola wondered what it was that drew her to him. He wasn’t her type that was for sure. For one thing, he didn’t seem particularly on the scene and he was a waiter and yet here she was contemplating ordering carbs, just so that she could stay and continue talking to him.

Lola downed the rest of her lemonade and considered bolting for the door. She imagined what Amber might say if she saw her here now. Amber was an inveterate snob. Dating the help won’t get you on the cover of US Weekly, Lola could practically hear her friend’s voice, and that was enough to keep her rooted to the bar stool. When Simon finally turned back to her, Lola had made her mind up.

“What are you doing when you get off?” She sounded braver and more confident than she felt. Simon was silent and for a moment they stared at each other. He was not the first man that she had propositioned, not by a long shot and yet something about Simon made Lola feel like this was a noteworthy occasion. He seemed above the usual bullshit that she expected from the city. He had not mentioned her mother, had not pressed his demo CD or showreel into her palm, had not yet tried to find out who in her contacts book might be of use to him. For all of these reasons, Simon stood out, stood apart from the wannabes and the users that had been a part and parcel of her life for as long as she could remember. And so Lola held her breath and waited and hoped.

“I don’t know, you tell me,” Simon finally replied. And the breath whooshed out of Lola. “I get off at five.”

“Then I’ll see you then,” she replied.

It was approaching five when Lola emerged from the movie theatre where she’d wiled away the time, watching a film. She was striding briskly towards the restaurant where she had arranged to meet Simon when she heard someone call her name.

“Miss Wilde.” Lola turned with an irritated expression as a tall man approached her. She squinted at him, noting the stern expression on his face as he advanced towards her. “Miss Wilde,” he said again and suddenly Lola’s heart began to race as she recognised him: the security guard from the department store.

“I’m late for an appointment,” Lola said vaguely gesturing in the direction of the car park.

“This won’t take long,” the guard stated and Lola could see from the set of his mouth that this man would not be won over with smiles and flirting.

“I really have to be going.” Lola turned but the guard stepped around her to block her way. They stared at each other and Lola was filled with real panic, not the manufactured thrill that she got from lifting but a real fear that this might escalate. She was still on probation and with the wrong judge she might actually end up behind bars.

“Ma’am,” the guard spoke again. As Lola cast around for a way out of her predicament, she heard a voice.

“What’s going on?” Lola spun around and her heart sank as she saw Simon advancing towards them.

“Shit,” she muttered under her breath. Just perfect. By now Simon stood alongside them and his gaze swept from Lola to the security guard.

“Jason, man, how’s it going?” Lola’s eyes narrowed and she watched as Simon shook hands with the security guard. “Anything I can help with?” The security guard stared hard at Lola for a moment.

“There might have been some kind of….misunderstanding.” Lola watched as realisation dawned in Simon’s eyes. She looked down, unable to meet his gaze. Instinctively, she knew he would not be like any of her usual crowd, he would not cheer on her lifting.

“I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding we can fix, right buddy?” Simon said as he glanced up at the man who held her fate in his hands. Lola held her breath. She watched Jason, the security guard, shift from foot to foot and then finally he spoke.

“If the lady happened to return to the store and return or make good on her purchases, then yes this misunderstanding could be overlooked, this time.” The last words were stated with emphasis and Lola knew she was busted, that there would be no more lifting for her, not in this neighbourhood.

“Thanks, man,” Simon said watching as the huge guard lumbered slowly back towards the department store.

Lola dared a look up at Simon’s face and winced as she saw the curiosity in his eyes. There was surprisingly no judgement and yet Lola didn’t relish being looked at like a peculiarly confounding insect. Simon stretched his hand out towards her and Lola looked at him in confusion.

“What?”

“The bag,” Simon stated firmly. Lola recoiled at the thought of handing Simon her bag. Her loot was her secret treasure, she never wore anything she lifted, she stored them in a trunk and sometimes she would simply take them out, look at them, let the fabrics slide through her fingers so that she could recapture that shot of life that lifting infused her with. Lola shook her head but Simon continued to hold out his hand. “You heard the man.”

With a reluctant nod, Lola relinquished her Gucci tote. She looked down as Simon glanced into her bag. Lola felt herself deflate, she had been looking forward to her date with Simon, but she doubted getting to know you while sipping lattes was still on the cards.

“Wait here,” Simon said and Lola watched as he disappeared into the department store.

Now was her chance and after a moment, Lola began to walk towards the valet. She need never see Simon again or relive this humiliation. As she approached the valet parking section, Lola halted as she realised that all her personal information and cards were in the bag that Simon had taken from her; he would find her easily, if he chose to. Why would he want to? A voice in Lola’s head piped up. Lola hovered, torn, and then she turned to see that Simon was approaching her, her tote held in his hands. He swung the bag out towards her and Lola had to catch it with both hands. After a moment Simon spoke.

“You’re a bit of a screw-up, aren’t you?” Lola bristled even as she realised that he was right. Somehow when she wasn’t looking she had turned into the clichéd Hollywood brat, screwing up everywhere they went. She was her mother’s daughter after all. Lola bit her lip. “So what are we doing?” Simon asked. And Lola was unable to hide her shock. She gaped at him, her expression asking the question that she couldn’t voice.

“We’re still going out,” Simon stated drily. “I’m neck deep in it with Jason now, so you definitely owe me, besides it’s a story for the grandkids. I stopped grandma from being arrested on our first date.”

Lola felt a burst of wellbeing zap through her. And, just like that, she knew something had begun.