9. The Fireplace x Call Me Blair

We'd satisfied ourselves with disrupting Hampshire's peace when we set foot back inside the hotel.

Inside, I see I've got mud and a little mustard on James' coat. Two things I suspect this coat had never met. James notices too but neither of us become concerned with it.

I hear the crackle of a fireplace and gravitate towards it. We must have all heard it. The sound of warmth pulling us left. To the same room, which earlier at check-in, erupted with laughter. It now sits empty, except for a staff member busy stoking the open wood fire. He leaves it roaring. Mulled wine and the scent of pine hang in the air. The room sufficiently toasty, I'm slipping off his coat when I see her.

Charlotte.

The rest of the group hypes her presence but it is James' arm she lassos. Apparently, 'they' needed his help. And not the kind hotel staff could provide.

It beggared belief.

We (James and I) give each other a little look and he leaves.

Somehow those two always find their way back to each other. Someone said.

I just don't know why they just can't get it together? One of the girls added.

I may have been a little unsteady on my feet but my ears were sure. Smile frozen from the life that was sucked out of me, I transferred my gaze from the door Charlotte and James just exited to the sofa the conversation came from. How much truth was in those statements? Did they mean physically or intimately? For the first time this evening, I showed my hand (face) and Fredric saw.

Not only did I not have fifty-fifty and phone-a-friend, I now knew the audience was biased. My back to the door, I move to sit in the space Fredric patted for me.

One of the party tossed his key fob on the table as he sat down. Sends the conversation to fast cars and... I'm grateful.

By the way, did your father ever find out what happened with his Maserati? Fredric's friend from earlier asks.

No. At least not from me.

What happened to your father's Maserati? I parroted.

I slid broadside. Crashed out in a cloud of smoke, showing off to some chick.

Wow. I said.

Loser. His friend corrected.

Must have had to tell them something. I added.

As it happens, it happened the night before he left for LA and his mother moreso than his father was just pleased he was ok. So nothing came of it. Though he admits to sending them the cheque for the already repaired vehicle, years later. While he spoke, I tried to remember a time I'd ever damaged something at home and too, hurt myself and my parents were concerned for me over the object.

'So what's it like living in LA?'

Emotions dancing but not quite with joy, I change the conversation.

'LA .. phew. Life in the fast lane if that's what you like.'

'Is that what you like?'

'Ain't nothing happening in any of the other lanes, Jess.' He glances across to me.

'So how fast is your fast lane?'

'The speed cameras don't even clock me.'

'That fast is it? Should I alert the authorities on your behalf?'

'Haha. You been to LA?'

'I can't say that I have.'

'Well, hell, you've got to come on over. I'll show you a good time.' He'd popped on an American accent to say that.

'I'll see what I can do.' Staring him back.

The conversations continue. His friends in support of his 'good time' title. Recalling past trips with him with much hilarity. Or just time spent in the general vicinity of Mr Fredric. And hell, if sitting here with him was anything to go by, I was sold. The drinks and nibbles continued too. But it was clear that if you wanted a good time, you spend it with this man. We chatted, laughed, drank and laughed some more. Sometimes, rip-roaringly so. And though we all laughed, it was me he kept looking at. I like the way you smile, he eventually said to me.

I'd forgotten about James until James returned.

He doesn’t come in. Stays in the doorway.

'I’m off up,' he says.

Not to the room.

To me.

Fredric, he just looks at me.

Waits.

I know James wants me to follow.

Everyone else is looking at me, looking at him. Waiting to see what I do.

While emotions my emotions toyed with me, you could hear the embers snap. Crackle.

'Jess?' James calls.

But I couldn't move.