Page 29 of The Grosvenor's Ghost
I slap his chest. “Look at you—alcohol free.”
He rolls his eyes. “Just for tonight. Him being in recovery doesn't mean the rest of us have to be.”
My hair frames my face as I hang my head a bit. We walk into the club, it’s already buzzing and in a way, I’m shocked. This is a party for an ex-addict. Why is everyone acting as if this is going to be a normal night out?
But then again, that’s a good thing, no? This is normal. Being out. Arthur being here. George being here—all of that is normal. We used to do this all the time. Not much has changed since he left yet, everything has changed because he hasn’t been here.
George leaves me to it, walks over to some friends of his and I go over to the bar. Order a water because there’s no point in ordering a concoction of sickly syrup and juices when I could really use something to settle my nerves.
“Bit of Dutch courage?”
Connie stands next to me, flashing a small brass flask.
I quickly glance around, take it from him, swallow a healthy mouthful—and then a bit more.
“Thanks.”
“You nervous?” He asks, sitting on the barstool.
“What do you think?”
He shrugs. “You shouldn’t be—he’s changed. Massively. Completely different bloke now, Phoebs.”
“Different how?” My stomach dips. I don’t want him to be different.
Connie shakes his head. “Not like that—different good. He’s a good different, a healthy different. Still looks the same, talks the same, walks the same, acts the same. He’s the same Arthur, just not on drugs.”
I sip my water, eyes darting across the room like a paranoid maniac as if he’s just going to pop out from behind the bar like fucking‘Here’s Johnny!’
I can’t sit here, waiting any longer. Get up, go to find George but then I bump into someone’s extremely hard chest.
“Watch it.”
Ronan glares down at me, quickly putting on a smile once he clocks that it’s me.
“Hi.”
He brightens up, ruffles my head (?). “You alright, Phoebs? How's your boyfriend? I heard he’s got a shit car, must be tough.”
Roll my eyes. “Everything’s tickety-boo, actually.”
“Heard from that sister of yours?”
I take a deep breath. Like I said, nothing has changed—not even Ronan’s strange infatuation with my sister even though he’s well aware of her current boyfriend.
“I told you, didn’t I? If I hear from her, I’ll let you know.” I blink a few times. “Have I let you know yet?”
My neck starts to cramp with how I am quite literally staring up at him. If anything has changed it’s been him and definitely not in a bad way. He looks how he did, obviously—just better. Maybe also a bit more darker, more troubled? Does that make me sick for thinking those bad attributes make him look good?
“Anyway,” I clear my throat, compose myself. “Can I have the key to go upstairs, please?”
“Why?” He frowns, sliding it out of his pocket anyway.
“Because I want a cigarette—thank you.”
He pins me with a parental stare and waves at his chest. “Fucks your lungs up, that does.”
“I’m well aware,” I say over my shoulder, staring down at the mangled lungs on the back of my cigarette box. I never understood why they added those. It doesn’t stop anyone from buying them. Just shifts my appetite.
