She shook her head, headed to the desk and started rummaging through the drawers. “It’s downstairs,” she said as she pulled out a pen and notepad before handing them to me.
“When you arrive tonight, find a security guy and give him this number,” I began, scribbling quickly on the paper. “The person on the other end will tell him where you can collect your tickets. Then, this number…is mine. If I don’t answer I will call you back.”
“Got it.” She nodded.
“Don’t go selling it on eBay now,” I said, winking as I handed back the note.
Helen chuckled. My favourite sound. “I won’t, but I can’t promise the same for Chrissie.”
“Bring her with you later, or someone else,” I added. Nobody wanted to attend a concert alone, after all. “It’ll be a fun night.”
“Oh my God. She’s gonna blow her shit.”
Helen’s bout of enthusiasm was infectious and, suddenly, I was willing the hours to pass so I could tear-arse it onto that stage. Everything was going to be all right. I could feel it. I had my best friend back. Nothing else mattered.
Nothing could touch me now. Not even the shitshow I was about to walk into when Ezra got hold of me and threw my arse on the naughty step for switching my phone off.
Helen
I’d barely had a chance to close the door behind Hugo before Chrissie accosted me by the sideboard. “What was that? Why was he in your clothes? Was that his Jag on the street? What universe have I walked into right now?”
“Take a breath, Chris, before you develop an aneurism.” Laughing, I scooped up the bags she’d brought with her and carried them through to the kitchen. They contained some packages I’d had delivered to her house earlier in the week because she’d had a day off and I was working late.
“Thanks for bringing these over. I would’ve called and collected them, though,” I said as I planted them on the fold-out dining table.
“Yeah, I bet you would. Then you could’ve kept the fact you’re boning a megastar a secret!”
I rolled my eyes. “We’re not boning. He’s my friend, and tonight, we’re going to watch my friend’s concert at the Soundbite Arena.”
Her head flopped to one side, eyes opened wide. “We?”
“If you’re free,” I said calmly, trying not to show amusement in my expression. “It’ll be a late one because he’s invited us backstage afterwards.”
“Ho…ly…shit. What do you wear to mingle with famous people?” Her hands clapped together in prayer as she rolled her eyes to the ceiling as if she’d find inspiration in the dappled plaster.
“Chris, I was in yesterday’s work clothes accented with gravy stains when he arrived. You’ll look hot in whatever you choose. Speaking of which…” I was sure I still had remnants of gravy in my hair. That was likely what caused the snag Hugo’s finger had caught. “I really do need to take a shower.”
“You can’t drop this news on me and leave! Dammit, Hel. I’m having some kind of an attack over here.”
I placed a hand on her shoulder, faked an expression of sympathy. “Mate, I’m going upstairs, not New Zealand. I’ll be half-an-hour.” My efforts to remain serious were futile by this point, and I turned to leave the room with a huge grin on my face.
“Wait, Helen?” she called after me.
I turned, nodded up.
“I can Insta all this tonight, right? I mean, nobody’s expecting me to buddy up to Hugo frigging Hayes and not boast about it?”
I laughed. I was sure Hugo would, too. “Honestly? I think he’ll be flattered he’s found his biggest fan…” Because I sure as hell had no idea it was Chrissie Morris. An hour earlier, I don’t actually think Chrissie did either.
Seeing the city traffic, I felt pleased with my decision to get a taxi to the arena that evening, even if I’d risked bankruptcy to pay for it. Chrissie and I had left early, stopped for something to eat on the way. Nothing fancy, burgers and milkshakes, but I hadn’t eaten much of mine. I was only mildly concerned that I’d contracted a deadly illness because I couldn’t think of anything that had ever made me leave a burger restaurant without stripping the plate clean. Chrissie blamed nerves, but I’d only seen Hugo a matter of hours ago. What did I have to be nervous about?
“Do I still look okay?” I asked, pausing in the street after crossing the road to get to the arena.
Chrissie made a point of looking me up and down, exaggerating the movements of her eyes as they roamed over my scarlet halter-neck top and down the wide-legged jeans I’d paired it with. No more grey, bland, and boring. I felt colourful, on the inside. I wanted to look it, too. I’d teased my hair into a stylish updo, got a little fancy with my makeup. I hadn’t needed a coat, which meant the weather app on my phone was either broken or plain shite. Chrissie nodded. “I’d do you.”