I looked at Hayes when he simpered. “No, you’re wound up tighter than a—”
“Hayes!”
He burst into laughter. “I was gonna say clock.”
He bloody well wasn’t.
“Stop it.” Summer, Hayes’s wife, elbowed him and winked at me. “Leave her alone.”
I beamed her way. I had only met her a short while ago but we instantly hit it off.
“You’re still not relaxed, muse.”
I looked at Angel. “Stop bringing attention to it.”
“Tell me why your back is as stiff as a board and I will.”
I glanced from Angel to Hayes and Summer before I cleared my throat.
“I don’t think I should have come along today,” I glanced around the living room that was bigger than my entire cottage floor plan. “I feel very out of place here.”
On Saturday, Risk asked me to come to the band’s first concert of three at Wembley Stadium. I agreed. When he left on Sunday morning, I damn well felt like I was sending him off to war instead of London. Fast forward to Monday morning, I woke up extra early and went through the works for beautifying myself. I showered, shaved and exfoliated my entire body until I was smooth to the touch. I cleansed my face and lips with a scrub then applied a mask to help my oily skin.
I applied roughly one hundred different products to my hair to tame it because I was born with hair like Merida from the Disney movie Brave. If I wanted it to look cute, I had to put in a shocking amount of effort for it to be that way. Even then, I prayed to God until I diffused my hair and was happy with how it turned out. The make-up part stumped me because I didn’t wear it. I had the kind of skin that oiled up fast so wearing make-up had never been worth it. I wanted to look nice for Risk’s big night so I sat through a make-up tutorial to cover up my healing bruise. I didn’t have half of the stuff the guy used in his videos, but I had the basics. Primer, foundation, concealer, setting powder, eyebrow stuff and blush.
I had no clue how to contour so I didn’t even attempt it, and making my eyes look nice with my skill set wasn’t an option.
When I was finished, I looked in the mirror and wanted to cry. I looked like a five-year-old got into her mother’s make-up bag and had the time of her life. By the time I was finished, it was too late for me to start over so I did what any normal person would do, I rang Risk on the new number he gave me and I told him I wasn’t going.
“You’re coming,” he told me. “If I have to go back to Southwold and get you, you’re coming.”
“I don’t look cute!” I told him. “My make-up is a joke, you can still see my bruise. I have nothing to wear to a rock concert. I don’t even have a Blood Oath T-shirt! People will think I’m lost!”
“Summer is here, she’ll help you put some of the crap on your face if you’re so inclined to have it. Put on a pair of jeans and I’ll have a T-shirt here for you. How does that sound?”
It sounded like I was losing the argument.
I found myself in Risk’s London townhouse four hours later. I sat in his living room with Angel, Hayes and Summer. Risk and May were busy speaking to the band’s manager in another room. I had yet to meet Chris Harrison and from the random shouting that flowed in the from hall every so often, I knew meeting him could have been delayed a million years and I wouldn’t have minded a bit. He seemed like a stressed-out person.
“Why do you think that?” Summer frowned. “You look great and, girl, your make-up is on point now that I’ve helped you contour and we smoked your eyes. Your bruise is completely hidden. Your eyes are huge and so green; you look gorgeous.”
I looked down at the Blood Oath T-shirt Risk gave me to wear and I messed with the hem.
“You’re talking about the house when you say you feel out of place,” Angel interrupted. “Right?”
I glanced up at him, guiltily.
“It’s a long way from Southwold being in here.”
“Frankie.”
I looked at Hayes.
“Risk has this big house, but he’s still Risk. I’m still me and May is still May. We’re still the three prats you knocked into line when we were kids. That hasn’t changed, Bilbo.”
I smiled as Hayes’s words took root. I knew I shouldn’t let Risk’s wealth affect me but it was just such a contrast to the life I once shared with him. His home in London . . . it was breath-taking. I looked to the doorway of the room when a lady walked in, she was wearing a navy uniform and she didn’t even look at us as she crossed over to the coffee table and began to gather all the used and empty tea cups.