What My Best Friend Did by Lucy Dawson Read Free Book Online Page B

the attention wasn’t always a good thing.” I tucked an escaping bit of hair back behind my ear. “She cut my fringe off once, which was nice of her. Mum left the back long because she wanted everyone to know I was a girl, so, thanks to Frances, in the pictures of my third birthday party I look like Rod Stewart circa ‘Do You Think I’m Sexy?’”
    Gretchen laughed.
    “It’s not funny.” I smiled. “She could be really mean. I had a hamster I really loved called Verbal James Gerbal and—”
    “I’m sorry,” Gretchen interrupted, holding up a hand. “He was called what?”
    “Yeah, we had really weird names for our toys and pets,” I said, trying to remember why on earth I’d called him that.
    “If it makes you feel any better, I had a toy elephant I called Mr. Price. I have no idea why either.” She laughed. “God, I’d forgotten about him! So what happened to Verbal James Gerbal?”She ate another mouthful of food and looked at me. “I have a feeling you’re about to tell me events took a tragic turn?”
    “I’m afraid so. Frances set Verbal James Gerbal free in the night. On purpose.”
    Gretchen shook her head. “That was a low blow. Did he come back?”
    “Unfortunately, no.” I shook my head, suddenly wondering why on earth I was telling her this, and why she was humoring me. It was nice of her. “We heard him scrabbling around under the bathroom floorboards, but Dad didn’t want to take the new carpet up.”
    “He probably just escaped to a better life of freedom … To Verbal James Gerbal,” she said and raised her glass.
    “I think, given the stink from under the floorboards that made everyone spontaneously gag every time they went in there, it’s unlikely. But thanks anyway.” I grinned.
    “OK—Verbal James Gerbal, RIP.” She raised her glass again, without missing a beat.
    I laughed, and then after a pause said, “I have no idea why I just told you all of that, I think I’m a little bit drunk. And it’s the heat.”
    Gretchen shook her head emphatically. “Not at all. It’s refreshing to meet someone on one of these things who’s normal.”
    Normal? Oh fuck. I felt crestfallen. I clearly hadn’t fooled her for one second. Mind you, what enigmatic creative would talk about their childhood pets? She must have seen the look on my face, because she raised her glass again and said, “I mean that as a compliment. Cheers!”
    We chinked glasses and Gretchen drained hers in one.
    An hour later, we moved en masse upstairs to the Sky Bar, which was centered on a decadent rooftop pool of enticingly still water. Around the edge were huge squashy cushions and tables lit by flickering candles, all set off by the dramatic backdrop of downtown LA, twinkling like fairy lights. I was starting to feel pretty smashed and had said just about all I could to the makeup girl on the subject of skin-firming creams when Gretchen excitedly appeared by my side, arm in arm with the stylist—who was completely sloshed—and said, “Alice! Come and see! You’ll never guess who’s here!”
    She reached out her hand and I allowed her to lead me into a more formal seating area, where, when I refocused slightly, I became aware of a rather small man, looking very bored, surrounded by a lot of fawning blonde women.
    “It’s only Rod bloody Stewart!” she whispered and then cracked up as my jaw fell open. “Go and tell him you had his hair, aged five or whatever it was.”
    “You didn’t go and say anything to him, did you?” Tom chuckled, the phone line crackling slightly. I could imagine him sitting at his desk, absently checking work e-mails as we chatted.
    “No,” I laughed and leaned back on my vast hotel bed. “Of course not. What time is it?”
    “Ten A.M. So that’s what, two A.M. with you?”
    I groaned. “I’m going to be wrecked tomorrow, but you know what? I’m actually having fun. I can’t believe I’ve only just got back from a club. Tom—I went clubbing! And I thought