The A-List Collection. Victoria Fox

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СКАЧАТЬ strutted across the stage in his skinny jeans, shaking his head and jerking the mike, flipping it round in his hands as he sang-or largely spoke-the words. The crowd was doing most of the work, taking over the lyrics dutifully whenever Nate plugged the mike in their direction. Normally Chloe would join in, but she didn’t even know how this new one went.

      They only did a couple of numbers, and when it was over Chloe felt the room spinning. She wanted to go home, she couldn’t be arsed with any of it.

      Fuzzily she walked over to one of the booths and slumped down. She felt like everyone in the place was looking at her, laughing at her, knowing what a stupid fool she’d been.

      ‘Hi there.’ A bloke came to sit next to her, someone she vaguely recognised from a party she’d been to with Nate a year before. Was he a playwright? She couldn’t remember.

      ‘Hey,’ she said back, disinterested. She didn’t care if she appeared rude-she was too tired and emotional and drunk to bother how she came across.

      ‘Want a drink?’ He moved closer. His hair was thinning and he was wearing little round glasses in the style of John Lennon, she guessed, though he just looked like a freak.

      She rested her chin on her hands. ‘No, I’ve had enough.’

      ‘I’m Baz.’

      ‘Great.’ How could this guy just waltz in and start chatting her up, knowing she was officially with Nate? Clearly she was the only person in the whole world to whom relationships actually meant something.

      ‘Want to get out of here?’ the man asked.

      Chloe’s attention was distracted. She could see Nate talking to a pretty brunette at the bar. The girl was giggling at everything he said and tossing her hair, her bright red lips wet with gloss. And then-no, he couldn’t be, not while his girlfriend was sitting right here-one of his hands reached down and patted the girl’s behind. Not only that but it stayed there, and now he was leaning in, whispering something in her ear.

      That was it.

      ‘There’s something I’ve got to do first,’ said Chloe, getting to her feet.

      Feeling surprisingly calm, she walked over to where Nate and the girl were standing. Fuck him-she’d been Little Miss Nice for way too long. He deserved everything that was coming his way.

      ‘Excuse me,’ she said, tapping Nate’s shoulder.

      He looked up, an inane grin on his face. He didn’t even do her the good grace of appearing guilty. ‘Hey, babe,’ he said instead, eyes foggy.

      ‘I’m not your babe,’ Chloe spat.

      He was confused. ‘What did you say?’ The girl next to him opened her doe eyes wide, relishing the drama.

      ‘Do you want me to spell it out?’ Chloe demanded, hands on hips.

      ‘Chill out, babe, you’re making a scene.’

      ‘No.’ She stuck her chin in the air. ‘I won’t chill out. Why should I?’

      Now he looked uncomfortable. ‘You’re drunk. You’re embarrassing yourself.’ He put a hand behind her back, preparing to guide her out.

      She shook him off. ‘Don’t you touch me,’ she hissed. ‘Don’t you ever, ever again touch me. How dare you imagine you have any right to come within a mile of me? You lying, conniving—’

      ‘What did you call me?’ Nate took a step forward, anger twisting his features.

      ‘Go fuck yourself, Nate. You know what you’ve done.’

      The group around them fanned out, people backing away to get a better view, until it was just Chloe and Nate in the circle.

      ‘Do I?’ Nate called her bluff, attempting to laugh it off now they had an audience.

      ‘Oh, you need me to say it louder, do you?’ Chloe’s voice dripped with sarcasm. ‘Whatever you want, Nate, just like we’ve always done it.’ She whipped round, her dark hair lashing behind her like a whip, and stormed towards the stage. Nate bolted after her, grabbing at her top, but he missed and went flying face first on to the floor. There was a scuffle before he surfaced, straightening his leather jacket, a strident shade of red.

      Chloe took the mike, turned it on and banged it a couple of times. She was drunk but for once she could see totally clearly. The music died.

      ‘Nate Reid,’ announced Chloe, ‘is a liar and a cheat.’ She waited while a thick silence descended on the crowd. Their outlines were black against the glare of the spotlight.

      ‘I don’t know how long he’s been going behind my back–probably since the beginning. He’s a filthy, dirty, philandering bastard, and more than that, he’s an actor.’ She clapped her hands slowly several times. ‘He’s played the part of my boyfriend very well.’

      ‘Shut your fucking mouth, Chloe.’ Nate lashed to the front, eyes blazing. ‘It’s all lies.’

      ‘I’ve had to go for an STI check,’ Chloe went on, her voice sounding loud and clear round the warehouse, ‘and I’d encourage any girl who’s been with him to do the same. If you think you’re the only one, chances are you’re wrong.’

      A gasp rippled round the crowd.

      ‘What a load of bullshit!’ shrieked Nate. ‘You’re seriously going to listen to her? Give me a break. She’s just jealous, can’t handle my fame. Isn’t that right, babe?’

      ‘Do you know what?’ Chloe said calmly. ‘Fuck you, Nate Reid. Fuck you and your pretentious fucking music. I don’t need you to corroborate me and I never have–in fact, if you could operate your shit-sized brain for more than a second you’d realise it’s the other way round. Without me you’re nothing but a wannabe musician pretending to be poor.’ A pause. ‘Oh, yes, surely everyone here knows about the Buckley-Reids, Nathaniel–if they don’t, maybe you should tell them?’ She saw Nate gulp. ‘You’re phoney and you’re arrogant and all you ever think about is yourself. Go find a pretty little airhead who’s interested in sucking you off, because I’m telling you, it’s not me.’

      Gathering all the dignity she could muster, Chloe replaced the microphone, stepped off the stage, made her way through the crowd and left. A smattering of uncertain applause accompanied her exit but then just as quickly died.

      Nate was shaking. Someone tried to touch his shoulder and he slapped them away. His whole body was trembling, shuddering with uncontrollable rage. Vaguely he heard the DJ start up again, the crowd dispersing, no one knowing what to say.

      Nate stood alone. How dare she? Stupid stuck-up-her-own-arse bitch!

      In a frenzy he stalked out of the club, shoving a paparazzo on his way past. Someone else tried to take his photo and he punched their camera, the lens smashing as it crashed to the ground. Pumped with adrenalin he hauled the unfortunate man up and slammed a fist into his face, sending him careening back into the flank of a black cab.

      ‘Steady on, mate,’ someone said.

      He СКАЧАТЬ