Page 64 of Bad Influence
‘Please don’t break a leg!’ Blair shouted at Mandy. She ignored them and continued gyrating. ‘I can’t believe I’ve turned into the responsible one.’
‘She’s doing better than most of us,’ I replied. ‘Good on her!’
Mandy flicked her head at Blair before kicking off her vertiginous platform sandals, opting to go barefoot. One flew across the room, narrowly missing an influencer.
She began waving her arms in exaggerated movements and dropping into sexy squats in time with the beat. The ottoman became her stage, as if she was performing in front of legions of adoring fans, which wasn’t far from the truth. Jose goaded her on, looking at her adoringly and videoing her moves on his phone.
The music segued into a mash-up of ‘Independent Women’. I glanced across and gave Jimi an approving look. The heavy beat made my throat pulsate.
‘Come on then.’ Blair grabbed my hand and led me onto the dance floor with them. Self-consciously I began to move. I was definitely a level above tipsy by now, my head a bit spinny as I swayed, but the music was brilliant, and I was a happy drunk. It felt great to let myself go.
Jimi and Coco joined us dancing and even Julie-Ann was throwing shapes, swaying her head from side to side, her blonde hair lashing her cheeks, a wide smile across her face.
I kept looking across to Jimi and noticed his eyes kept coming back to me. Even between all the bodies, he found me. Sometimes he would smile at me, as if he was checking whether I was still there and was pleased that I was. It was nice. I felt special. I started to play a little game with him, vacillating between smiling back and pretending I hadn’t noticed he was looking at me, although I kept him in my peripheral vision, aware of his movements.
When the numbers started dwindling, Mandy and Jose excused themselves. Coco had disappeared off to bed, and it dawned on me that I really should get some sleep too. I’d been chatting to a woman about her business making real-hair extensions for celebrities, and my eyes were starting to glaze over, as I struggled to keep up with her detailed recounting of trips to India to source the finest quality human hair to make clip-on ponytails for Ariana Grande. Plus, my boots were starting to rub, and my head was aching – an early sign of the hangover to come.
As I crossed the small courtyard to reach the entrance to the annexe, I felt a hand on my shoulder.
‘Are you really going to bed?’ Jimi asked gently.
‘I really am,’ I replied snoozily.
‘I thought we could have a nightcap.’ It could have been a question, but he said it as a statement.
‘Does nighttime tea count?’
‘Does it contain mushrooms?’ he asked, innocently. ‘They’re all high in there.’
‘Don’t go there,’ I replied, rolling my eyes. ‘No, it’s herbal. And definitely not illegal. There’s a kettle in the annexe if you fancy it?’
‘There’s a kettle in the annexe,’ he replied jokily, mimicking my British accent. ‘You are so English.’
I shrugged. ‘I can’t do much about that.’
‘Well, I don’t mind if I do.’ His eyes sparkled.
I secretly loved that Jimi felt familiar enough to rib me.
When we got to the small kitchenette in the annexe, I filled the kettle – which was one of those silly mini kettles which barely make enough boiling water for two mugs – and flicked on the lamp on a small side table, next to an antique-looking red velvet two-seater sofa, with gold trimming peeling off in places. It looked like something you might find in a neglected corner of Buckingham Palace. Clearly all the furniture no longer deemed smart enough for the main house had been moved across to the annexe, because it was a menagerie of mismatched items that wouldn’t look out of place on a Portobello Road stall. We both sat down at the same time and shuffled apart awkwardly.
‘Have you always been a DJ?’ I asked, thinking what a terrible opener this was. But I couldn’t think of anything else at that moment.
‘God no. I worked for an advertising agency for a few years.’
‘Oh, interesting. Did you work on any campaigns I might have seen?’
‘It’s unlikely. I wasn’t on the fun stuff. I did the website development, social media, and SEO optimisation; until I realised that it was slowly eroding my brain of any fun. I got so bored of going to work. Like a hamster on a wheel, round and round, days and weeks go by, turning into months and years, and before you know it, you’re not really living, you’re surviving. I didn’t want that from my life.’
‘Hard relate.’
‘You worked in tech?’
‘No. But I once worked in a call centre for an insurance company, and it was honestly the most soul-destroying way to earn money I’ve ever had. It was even worse than giving out free yoghurt pots for one whole summer at railway stations.’
‘Did you learn anything about insurance?’
‘Nothing. Let’s just say I left that entire industry – my brain isn’t wired that way. At school, for a long time, I seriously thought that working in STEM meant a career in floristry.’ He didn’t seem to get that joke. ‘So, you got out of tech?’
