‘Have a lovely time this evening,’ said Rose, as he climbed into the car.
‘You’re not coming?’ he asked, buckling his seat belt with the door still open.
‘Erm. No.’
‘Well, that’s not much fun for you, is it?’
Rose smiled weakly. ‘Well, I wasn’t invited. And I’m working, remember?’ These were both lies: it was 11 p.m., her shift had officially finished. She could easily leave now. And any difficulty she’d have getting into the afterparty would be immediately diminished with Milo by her side.
He leaned out of the car, hand outstretched like a claw. ‘I thought your job tonight was to look after me.’ Looking at his dilated pupils, Rose figured he was a bit drunk. ‘You should come. These things are mostly full of people being idiots and saying obnoxious things about themselves. There’s sometimes free cheese, too. I think you’d find it funny.’
Not taking his hand, she took a step backwards. ‘What makes you think I’d find it funny?’
‘I have good instincts. And I think I know a bit about you.’
‘I’ll bet I know more about you.’
He smiled. ‘Are you getting in or not?’
There are some moments in life when a question isn’t really a question at all. And that’s because the answer has already been determined by greater and more powerful external forces. Those forces could be the social norms that require you to say ‘Oh, I love them!’ upon receiving a hideous pair of pink pyjamas for your birthday from a distant relative. Or the pressures that compel you to say ‘Go on then’ when the person you fancy offers you a free tequila shot in a club even though you hate tequila. In this instance, those forces were stronger than ever, because the person asking Rose to do something was Milo Jax. And when someone like Milo Jax asks anyone to do anything, there is only ever going to be one answer.
TWO
The seats in the car were heated. Rose slipped her hands underneath her thighs to warm more of her body, not realising until now how cold she’d been. Someone at the party must have demanded that the air-con be pumped up to full whack. The leather of the seat felt sticky on her back. Milo stared out of the window as they drove, both of them sitting in silence, listening to the gentle hum of Classic FM in the background, a song with violins. She took her phone out to text Minnie.
Milo en route to afterparty. He has the goody bag. Am I okay to clock off?
Yes, darling. Enjoy yourself, she replied. Minnie knew exactly where she was. She always knew everything.
Rose tried to think of something to ask Milo that wouldn’t sound too probing. In her head, she ran through various questions about the evening – ‘Did you have fun?’, ‘How was the food?’ and ‘Any good conversations?’ – but resolved that none of them were interesting enough. Milo had the most fascinating life out of anyone she’d ever met. She had to at least pretend to be fascinating too.
‘Are the seats always like this?’ she asked without thinking.
‘What’s that?’ Milo turned from the window to face her. His eyes looked lighter than they had earlier.
‘The heating, I mean. My seat is warm.’
Milo laughed.
‘Sorry. I’ll shut up,’ said Rose.
‘No, no. Please. Don’t stop. Tell me more about your warm arse.’
He was too good at this.
‘Did you have fun tonight?’ she asked in an attempt to normalise the atmosphere.
‘Not really,’ he sighed.
‘Why not?’
‘Did you have fun?’
‘I always find those sorts of things quite overwhelming.’
‘Well, I’d say the same.’
‘Why come at all then? I was surprised Joss said yes.’
‘Because she’s worried I’m turning into too much of a teenage – and these are her words not mine – “heart-throb” and wants to make sure there are still some adults that listen to my music so that people take me seriously.’
‘And coming to the Firehouse Awards will do that?’
‘You tell me.’
‘Are you asking if I take you seriously or not?’
‘I am.’
‘Yes, I mean, of course I do.’
‘Convincing, Rose.’
‘Well, what do you mean? Do I take you seriously as a musician, or a person?’
‘Is the answer different for each one?’
‘No, I mean, I don’t know. I don’t really know enough about your music to answer that. I’m sorry.’
