Page 2 of Take the Wheel

The wedding is at her family’s estate in Scotland.

Jake replied instantly:

How are you getting there?

Driving,she shot back, omitting the detail that Nancy would be doing the actual driving while Ari napped in the back seat.

That’s gonna take forever. Can’t we fly?he whined.

You can fly,she replied.I don’t do flights within my own country. Bad for the carbon footprint.

A lie. She just hated flying. She could manage it for, say, a tropical paradise, but not when ground travel would suffice. There were trains, of course, which were the fastest way to get somewhere inland. But trains were full of people, and people were the worst. She didn’t exclude herself from that.

I will, then. Give me the details,Jake said.

She had a shot of the invitation in her camera roll and sent it to him.

Ari went to lie down on the bed with her eyes closed. That felt worse—too much spinning. She put on the TV in the corner of the room and watched a daytime show. A woman found out her boyfriend was her long-lost brother. Ari found herself rooting for them. On the proviso they didn’t try to breed, of course.

‘Ari, it’s me,’ a voice said through the door.

Ari jumped up and turned the TV off. She opened the door to Nancy.

Her dark green eyes were calm and unreadable, with just the barest hint of amusement at the corners of her mouth. She was a touch older than Ari, though didn’t quite know her age and would never ask. Ari would place her in her late thirties if pushed.

Not a hair was out of place in her sleek blonde bob, the sharp ends brushing just below her jaw. Dressed in a crisp, tailored blouse paired with neat trousers in muted tones, Nancy’s posture and outfit radiated a quiet authority.

‘Thank god for Nancy,’ Ari thought. She was the safest of hands.

Two

Nancy Doyle’s knock had barely faded into the hallway when the door creaked open.

Through the narrow gap, Nancy saw a pair of bleary eyes peeking out, framed by a wild tangle of hair. Arianna Stark. Ari. Even in her dishevelled state, there was a glamour to her.

Nancy supposed that was simply her good looks and easy confidence shining through. She was thirty-one, though she could have passed for twenty-one. She was absurdly and effortlessly good-looking, with high cheekbones, a smooth, olive complexion, a hypnotically large set of dark, almost black eyes and thick, long, coal-black hair.

‘Morning, Nancy,’ Ari mumbled, with as much contrition as she could muster, which was to say, very little.

Nancy stepped inside with her usual measured calm, taking in the chaos: rumpled sheets, a lingering scent of stale alcohol, and a scattering of miscellaneous debris.

As she surveyed the scene, she knew exactly why Ari had gotten hammered last night. It wasn’t just another bout of self-destruction. There was an event on the horizon, rushing towards Ari. An ex of hers, Paris, was getting married, and for some reason, Ari had chosen to accept the invite to attend.

Nancy wouldn’t have gone to something like that, but clearly, Ari had more pride than people realised. Which was why she was in this shitty hotel room, probably with a recollection of her night that was roughly the integrity of honeycomb.

Nancy walked in and placed a bag down. ‘Clothes, makeup, shoes.’ She paused. ‘You lost your shoes?’

Ari looked around her. ‘That remains to be seen. They could be in the room somewhere, for all I know.’ Her phone buzzed in her hand. She checked it and rolled her eyes.

‘Everything OK?’ Nancy asked.

Ari tutted. ‘It’s just Jake. I gave him the invite, but he keeps asking questions. And it’s like, at this point, I know whatyouknow, mate.’ She picked up the bag and trotted into the bathroom. ‘Give me ten,’ she said over her shoulder and slammed the door.

Nancy thought it was telling that Ari was referring to Jake as ‘mate.’ Clearly, an unserious relationship. Not that Nancy would ever ask. Anything she knew about the inner workings of Ari’s heart and mind was only ever gleaned. They were not close.

Nancy liked to see it as a warm working relationship, like bread and a toaster. The bread went off to get buttered elsewhere while the toaster waited for its next use. That was Nancy in the car. Awaiting her next pop down.

Nancy knew about the upcoming wedding in Scotland because she was the one driving Ari there, who would be in the back seat of the silver Mercedes-Maybach S-Class. Officially, that was her job—driver.

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