Page 4 of The Life Experiment
A groan escaped him. Laying back on his pillow, Angus threw an arm over his eyes to shut out the world, but the woman in the shower chose that moment to start singing. Beyoncé, she was not.
With no chance of sleep now, Angus tossed the duvet aside and found his underwear on the floor. Sidestepping the woman’s possessions – Louboutin shoes, Chanel bag – he entered his ensuite.
A miracle of expensive taste and fine craftsmanship, with a large jacuzzi bath that looked out over London, the slick bathroom impressed everyone Angus brought home. So did the rest of his penthouse.
But was living there Angus’s dream? Someone once asked him that. The question had stuck with Angus ever since. At the time, he hadn’t been able to answer it. Truthfully, he still couldn’t.
The woman in the shower smiled when Angus entered the room. Even with traces of mascara darkening the skin under her eyes, she was undeniably beautiful.
The previous night, Jasper had pointed her out as she danced amidsta cluster of similarly long-limbed, bronzed friends. ‘I want to marry her,’ he swooned, eying the woman up and down.
‘I thought you didn’t believe in marriage?’ Angus replied.
‘For her, I’d change my mind.’
But it was Angus who had taken the woman home. It hadn’t been his intention, but that tended to be the way things went. People quickly tired of Jasper bragging about his car collection or listing the drugs he could get. Wearied, their eyes wandered until they landed on Angus.
While Angus might present as a humbler alternative to Jasper, his surname told a different story, at least for those in the know.
Despite their gargantuan wealth, a Google search of the Fairview-Whitleys would not bring up a boastful list of business acquisitions and society-page features. In fact, it didn’t bring up much at all. The family were not gossip-column fodder. They possessed a level of wealth that rose above all that.
‘Did I wake you?’ the woman asked, her voice carrying the distinctive croak of a big night.
‘Yes,’ Angus replied. His body came alive at the thought of joining her, but as he reached for the glass door, the woman turned the shower off.
‘I can’t stay. I’ve got to go to work.’
Angus blinked.Work. Of course.Not everyone was like him, a 34-year-old with more money than he knew what to do with and no career in sight. Angus knew that statement made him sound like a dick, and at times hewasa dick, but he wasn’t exactly proud of his employment status.
‘You’re rich. You don’t need to work,’ Jasper dismissed whenever Angus confessed his insecurities. ‘Being loaded is your full-time job. Trust me, you do it well.’
But the truth was that Angus was ashamed. The one time he had gone all-in on a career, Angus lost over two million pounds of his family’s money. But back then, when he was twenty-seven and sococky that ‘arrogant’ was the first word people used to describe him, it had been fun to wave a cheque in the air and fund the startup of a friend of a friend. Something in tech. Something he didn’t understand that sounded cool. Swooping in like a hero made Angus feel powerful, until he realised he hadn’t asked the right questions – or any questions at all.
Before Angus could spiral further, the woman spoke once more. ‘Can you get me a towel?’
Nodding, Angus grabbed a fresh towel from a concealed cupboard and handed it over.
‘Thanks,’ she said, wrapping it around herself. Shuffling out of the shower, the woman caught sight of her reflection in the semi-steamed mirror and laughed. ‘Good job I saw this. I can’t go to work looking like a panda, can I?’
As she wiped the smudged makeup from her eyes, Angus realised he had no idea what work she was referencing. ‘What is it you do again?’
The woman stopped. ‘I told you last night. I plan bespoke, high-end birthday parties for dogs.’
Yes, that was it – a career so ridiculous Angus had laughed into his drink when the woman said it. She went on to explain how her father had given her a small loan to start the business.Only eighty-thousand pounds, she had said, as if it was spare change.
The woman then described the services her company provided: catering from London’s finest restaurants, entertainment from award-winning dog trainers and handcrafted puppy-party costumes, to name a few. She informed Angus that she’d arranged six parties so far, each for pets belonging to her mother’s friends. No cats – she didn’t do cats, or any other animals for that matter. When she had finished her monologue, the woman took a smug sip of vodka soda.
Angus remembered sitting in the club, wide-eyed. The absurdity of the conversation seemed to be lost on everyone but him. Not for thefirst time, Angus wondered what he was doing, existing in a world that made no sense to him.
What was hedoing?
Focusing on the woman once more, Angus studied her sharp shoulder blades as they jutted from the top of her towel. Shame twinged his stomach. He shouldn’t judge her. At least she’d done something with her life.
‘So, what’s on the agenda for you today?’ the woman asked him.
Angus smiled, painfully aware that he couldn’t answer the question. The day stretched ahead of him like a blank canvas. The problem was, he had no paint to fill it with.
Ever since the startup debacle, Angus had lost all trust in himself. Bad habits crept in. Within months, Angus was living a life no different to the one he had at eighteen.
