Page 176 of The Grosvenor's Ghost
She moves her head to the music, her jaw working overtime, her tongue darting out every second to wet her dry lips. “I saw Dicky.”
I pull back. “You what?”
“Yeah,” she nods, licks her lips. “I gotta go, but yeah, saw him—love you, bye!”
And then she spins around and saunters back into the crowd of—maybe a thousand?—people who are gathered in the entryway.
Arthur brushes his head against my shoulder, whispers something in my ear but I can’t hear him. “I can’t hear you,” I shout, shake my head. “I need the toilet!”
He nods and I go off upstairs but on my way down the hall, I hear moans. Like, sex moans. I inch closer to the bedroom it’s coming from and then I hear a name.
“Ronan.”
For some reason my stomach dips. I don’t know why. Maybe because it’s him and being this close to him while he’s having sex makes me nervous or maybe it’s because I thought he was seeing my sister while she was seeing Lenny. I don’t know—I just feel sick hearing him. I have an urge to push the door open, see if it is my sister but I obviously know better and instead ignore it, walking straight past and into the bathroom.
It makes me feel weird. I’m still angry at the way he spoke to me the other week in his office. How dare he go and shag some randomer? It’s not my business, I know it isn’t but still—I don’t fucking know.
I finish up in the toilet, and as I walk out, I see Ronan walking out of his room, doing up his fly.
“Alright, one pump wonder?” I call.
He looks over his shoulder, flashes me a grin and a middle finger.
“Ronan!” I call again, going after him as he’s halfway down the stairs. “I want to talk to you!”
He doesn’t hear me, joins the crowd at the bottom of the stairs and disappears. I look behind me to see the girl but she isn’t there—asleep probably with the way I know he fucks (duh, I obviously don’t have a first hand experience (unfortunately) but girls talk and journalists write).
I race down the stairs in hopes of catching up with him but when my eyes land on him, he’s already deep in an animated conversation with a group of men I don’t know—and quite frankly, wouldn’t like to know.
It’s hard to find anyone, think, or talk in here. The red lights flash every few minutes and the DJ is right in front of me, set up in the corner of the foyer. People spill out of the entryway, into the living room, dining room and kitchen.
Everywhere I turn, I’m rubbing shoulders with someone who I may or may not know. I’m not a huge fan of Halloween. Seeing everyone in masks, I don’t like it. Makes them think they can do anything just because they’ve got a cheap (or not so cheap) bit of plastic covering their face.
I do spot Arthur, though, because he hasn’t put his mask back on. Our eyes lock at the same time from across the room. He nods his head over at me and I go to move but a hand on my upper arm stops me. I frown, spin around, a tall man is standing behind me, a gold tragedy mask hiding his face.
I don’t have time to speak, the man pulls me through the crowd, through the kitchen and into the laundry room. It’s pitch black, the sounds from outside muffled.
“What the fuc—”
He rips off his mask, Digby’s face appears in front of me as he flicks the light switch. “Phoebe.”
“What the fuck are you doing!” I throw my arms up, marching straight for the door.
“Wait.” He stops me, puts his arm across the door. “Please,” his voice lowers, his eyes looking down at me. “I need to talk to you.”
“You’re pissed,” I roll my eyes, smelling the vodka coming off him. “I’m not talking to you now.”
“I saw you kiss Arthur.”
I sigh, cross my arms over my chest. “Wasn’t me.”
“Okay, then a really similar looking brunette was out there kissing Arthur.”
“Oh, really? Let me go so I can fuck her up.”
He smiles sarcastically at me. “I bet my side of the bed wasn’t even cold before Arthur jumped in it.”
I scoff. “You cannot show up here, wankered, after not talking to me for over a month and say stuff like that.”
