Page 69 of The Interview
“Did you ever think…?” Jimmie shakes her head as she smiles across at me. “Do you still have those moments where you can’t believe this is our lives? From our two-hour phone calls to discuss our outfits before we met up, learning thelyrics to Blondie songs from Smash Hits while we practised our Madonna dance moves in the summerhouse in your mum and dad’s back garden, to watching the boys playing arenas, dinners at Buckingham Palace, walking the red carpet.”
I smile as every memory appears vividly in my mind, the warmth they evoke filling my insides.
“What a life we’ve lived, George. Sometimes I wonder how we’re all still…” She trails off and closes her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I reassure her. “I know what you mean. With some of the shit we’ve pulled, the drinking and the drugs at such a young age, itisa wonder we’re all still alive. I know that obviously doesn’t apply to Sean, but none of that or the things we got up to back then are the reason he’s not here now. His death had nothing to do with that. His death was an awful, tragic accident. We were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
She gives my hand another squeeze as we both realise the room has fallen silent around us, but there’s more I have to say to her.
“And I meant every word I said earlier: you truly are my ride or die. I couldn’t have wished for a better friend to have shared all of those moments with. Each and every one of them, at whatever stage of our life, were all made better because I got to do them with you.”
We both turn to face Daniel and the camera.
CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN
ASHLEY
My heart beats so hard in my chest, I’m sure everyone sitting on the sofa can feel its vibration.
I’ve always hated things like this: interviews, anything to do with the press or publicity. The only time I ever spoke was if we were walking a red carpet and someone shoved a mic or camera in my face, asking who I was wearing. I always gave a shout-out to the designer, always. But aside from a smile, that’s all they got from me.
Years ago, when I first got with Marley, a tabloid had done an ‘exclusive exposé’ on my family. It was truly fucking awful.
Marley knew my past, my family’s history, and so did the rest of the Laytons. I’ve never hidden who I am or where I came from. Good job I had been upfront, because multiple newspapers and magazines had run with the stories about my parent being drug addicts, that my dad acted as first my mum’s then later my brother’s pimp when he prostituted them out to fund their habit.
Thankfully, they didn’t know that I was destined for the same path until my brother saved me, but Marley did. Marley knows everything.
With very little empathy, sympathy, or tact, they also reported on my brother’s death. Despite Marley and me helping him as much as we could, paying for rehab, and counselling, Ryan couldn’t beat the demons that haunted him day and night. Eventually, he took his own life while serving one of his many prison sentences at the age of just thirty-two.
“So, you came into the Layton family after Paris, after the Georgia and Sean break-up drama?” Lost in my own head, I realise Daniel’s question is aimed at me a few beats after he asks it.
I nod, my mouth dry.
Marley—knowing full well my fear of the cameras, has now moved from the floor to sit next to me—gives my hand a reassuring squeeze at Daniel’s question.
“Yeah, that’s not to say I didn’t know about it. As Georgia mentioned earlier, we all went to school together, so everyone knew who the Laytons were. Everyone got to know who Sean McCarthy was, and everyone got to know all about Carnage.”
“But you weren’t friends with them?” Daniel asks.
This time, I shake my head slowly, wondering how I should answer.
“I said earlier that George and Jimmie were the pretty girls in the clever clique, but it wasn’t just that. If your researchers have done their jobs, then you’ll know my background, where I’m from…”
“Babe,” Marley says quietly beside me, giving my hand another squeeze.
“It’s okay. I’m okay.” I meet his eyes and say with what I hope is a convincing nod. “They came from money; I did not. We went to the same school but ran in entirely different circles. I’ll betotally honest, I thought the pair of them were a bit up their own arses.”
“Cheers, babe,” Jimmie says from the other side of Georgia, and through the snorts of laughter coming from all around us.
“Rude,” Georgia adds.
“Sorry, bitches. I know now I was wrong, obviously.” I tilt my head and look between my besties and shrug.
They both shake their heads and smile back at me.
“That all kind of changed when Jimmie found me bawling my eyes out in the toilets at school. I’d had some shit going on at home and had packed a bag and left, with no idea where I was gonna go. Without asking too many questions, Jim let me stay at hers while I got myself sorted out.”
