Page 49 of Glitterland
“Congratulations,” I said.
Chloe smiled, showing teeth as white and straight as Darian’s. “I love clovves, so it’s like hunjed pahcent dream come true.”
Gary put a perfect hand gently on her shoulder. “You totes deserve it, Chlo. You worked well ’ard for this. You should get me to do your PR for you. I’m finking like qualidee geezas on the door wif their shirts off.”
“I’m not sure that’s right, honey,” she said.
“You leave it to me, ghel,” said Gary, enthusiasm undiminished by outright rejection. “There ain’t nuffin that don’t need qualidee geezas.”
The man had a point.
“Maybe you should do it, then,” said Darian mischievously.
“Naw, naw, I’m gonna be organising it, aren’t I? Someone ’as to check the geezas. Make sure they look ahwight. I mean, bloke comes in, nice face, so you get ’im out there. Turns out ’e’s a right chubber. Can’t ’ave that.”
Chloe turned to me. “You should come see the shop, honey.”
“I don’t really need a sequinned minidress, thanks,” I said.
“I do men, too.”
“She ain’t lying,” said one of the Laurens, to great hilarity.
“It’s just down Brentwood,” Chloe continued, when the laughter had died away. “It’s called Bedazzled. I fought it’d be like… Vajazzled except, y’know,bedazzled. I fought it was, y’know.”
“Um, you know,” I said, “you know bedazzled is a real word, right?” She blinked, her lashes beating like the wings of a hummingbird. “Is it?”
“‘Pardon my mistaking eyes, that have been so bedazzled with the sun, that everything I look on seemeth green.’”
There was a long silence.
“Shakespeare,” I said.
“Oh, honey,” breathed Chloe. “That’s so clever of you to know that. Darian, babes, he’s so clever.”
“Well,” I said, “you invented it independently of Shakespeare, so that technically puts you on par with him.”
She shook her head, tossing a chaotic spill of wine-dark curls over her shoulders. “You’re so sweet, honey, but I wouldn’t get bedazzled like you said cos I always wear sunglasses.”
Beside me, Niall burst into hysterical laughter.
Thankfully, at that moment, we had to go and take our seats because the show was starting.
“I want an explanation,” whispered Niall, as people began drifting slowly back to the main function room, carrying us along like flotsam.
“I wasn’t completely lying,” I lied. “I am thinking of setting the next book here.”
“Not completely lying,” he snarled. “Fuck you. All you do, all you’ve ever done, is lie to me. And what about Daryl, or whatever his name is? I suppose you’re researching his cock?”
“It’s Darian. And I…I like him.”
Niall snorted. “How can you like him? Even putting aside the fact you’ve spent the last five years telling me you’re incapable of liking anyone, he makes Winnie-the-Pooh look like Kasparov.”
“Well, I wasn’t intending to play chess with him.”
“No shit. It’s pathetic, Ash. Even for you. The depressive and the idiot.”
I flinched, glancing around in case someone had overheard. “Can you keep your voice down, please? I don’t want everyone to know, okay?”
