Read Online Lessons in Laughing Out Loud by Rowan Coleman - Free Book Online
Authors: Rowan Coleman
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stay. To be so close to someone so fragile, so out of control, scared Willow, as if the younger woman might somehow draw her back into the emotional chaos that daily threatened to engulf her if she failed, even for one second, to keep it at bay.
Trailing over to the bed, India collapsed into its black silk duchesse satin depths. Her alabaster skin contrasting starkly with the surroundings, she looked like a pre-Raphaelite oil painting or one of the perfume ads she’d been cast to star in. Willow suspected she was trying to think of some demands appropriate to a celebrity of her status.
India propped her head on her hand and assumed a haughty expression. “Yes, some water please, room-temperature, and some fruit, not mango, I hate mango. I’d like some strawberries, organic, from inside the EU, keep down the air miles, and some grilled skate, with a side of fennel—but the fish must be fresh, caught this morning, I don’t like to eat anything that has had more than twenty-four hours to rot.” She lifted her head and smiled apologetically. “Is that okay?”
‘”This is Blakes, if you wanted chocolate-coated oysters served on a bed of kitten, that would be okay.” Willow smiled. “Are you okay, though, don’t you have anyone, any of your people, to keep you company? A friend or PA or something?”
It was the inevitable truth that the more famous a person became the more they had to pay someone to be there for them.
India dragged herself into a sitting position, hugging a pillow over her abdomen. “Victoria says no. She says that someone tipped off the press, that some hack might have gotten lucky and come across me and Hugh together with a long lens but that it took an insider to get the phone messages and the details of where we . . . met up. She says once she’s found out who it is she’ll arrange to have them disappeared . . . but that’s just her idea of a joke, right?”
“Probably.” Willow nodded, noncommittal.
“So, no PA for me, for now. Although I’m sure it wasn’t Martha, she is more of a friend than an employee, she just wouldn’t. I’m sorry, how boring for you, to be dumped with all this.”
“Not at all, it’s my job. I’ve done worse. Really.” India’s gaze drifted away and she stared out of the window at the wet, gray afternoon outside, the sky so low and dark it felt as if night might have already fallen. Willow cringed, thinking of her sofa. All the wonders that Blakes Hotel had to offer didn’t compare to the thought of putting her feet up and falling asleep in front of the TV with a family-size bag of crisps and half a bottle of wine. But still . . .
“I could stay?” she offered reluctantly.
India shook her head, smiling weakly at Willow. “No, I want to be alone, in the words of Garbo. I need to miss him, and if you’re here I’ll have to be keeping my chin up and going on about what a bastard he is. The sorry truth is I don’t feel that way, and I just can’t believe he feels the way he is talking about me.”
“Right then, well, you’ve got my number, so any problem at all . . .”
“Do you think I disappointed him?” India lifted the neck of her sweatshirt and peered down it, before looking back up at Willow. “Physically, I mean. Look at me, I have the body of a boy. You have very big breasts.” She cocked her head to one side as she unashamedly observed Willow’s bosom. “My head could fit in one of your cups. I’ve got no tits at all. Hugh said he loved my body, untouched by life he said. But he wasn’t ever very . . . enthusiastic. I thought it was because our love was more spiritual than carnal. Do you think I’d look good with bigger breasts?”
Willow patted the door handle affectionately and took a few steps back into the room.
“Well, it’s easy enough to get to a G cup, although honestly I don’t know why anybody would want to. There’s no need for people to pay thousand of pounds for surgery, all you have to do is eat double your own weight
Trailing over to the bed, India collapsed into its black silk duchesse satin depths. Her alabaster skin contrasting starkly with the surroundings, she looked like a pre-Raphaelite oil painting or one of the perfume ads she’d been cast to star in. Willow suspected she was trying to think of some demands appropriate to a celebrity of her status.
India propped her head on her hand and assumed a haughty expression. “Yes, some water please, room-temperature, and some fruit, not mango, I hate mango. I’d like some strawberries, organic, from inside the EU, keep down the air miles, and some grilled skate, with a side of fennel—but the fish must be fresh, caught this morning, I don’t like to eat anything that has had more than twenty-four hours to rot.” She lifted her head and smiled apologetically. “Is that okay?”
‘”This is Blakes, if you wanted chocolate-coated oysters served on a bed of kitten, that would be okay.” Willow smiled. “Are you okay, though, don’t you have anyone, any of your people, to keep you company? A friend or PA or something?”
It was the inevitable truth that the more famous a person became the more they had to pay someone to be there for them.
India dragged herself into a sitting position, hugging a pillow over her abdomen. “Victoria says no. She says that someone tipped off the press, that some hack might have gotten lucky and come across me and Hugh together with a long lens but that it took an insider to get the phone messages and the details of where we . . . met up. She says once she’s found out who it is she’ll arrange to have them disappeared . . . but that’s just her idea of a joke, right?”
“Probably.” Willow nodded, noncommittal.
“So, no PA for me, for now. Although I’m sure it wasn’t Martha, she is more of a friend than an employee, she just wouldn’t. I’m sorry, how boring for you, to be dumped with all this.”
“Not at all, it’s my job. I’ve done worse. Really.” India’s gaze drifted away and she stared out of the window at the wet, gray afternoon outside, the sky so low and dark it felt as if night might have already fallen. Willow cringed, thinking of her sofa. All the wonders that Blakes Hotel had to offer didn’t compare to the thought of putting her feet up and falling asleep in front of the TV with a family-size bag of crisps and half a bottle of wine. But still . . .
“I could stay?” she offered reluctantly.
India shook her head, smiling weakly at Willow. “No, I want to be alone, in the words of Garbo. I need to miss him, and if you’re here I’ll have to be keeping my chin up and going on about what a bastard he is. The sorry truth is I don’t feel that way, and I just can’t believe he feels the way he is talking about me.”
“Right then, well, you’ve got my number, so any problem at all . . .”
“Do you think I disappointed him?” India lifted the neck of her sweatshirt and peered down it, before looking back up at Willow. “Physically, I mean. Look at me, I have the body of a boy. You have very big breasts.” She cocked her head to one side as she unashamedly observed Willow’s bosom. “My head could fit in one of your cups. I’ve got no tits at all. Hugh said he loved my body, untouched by life he said. But he wasn’t ever very . . . enthusiastic. I thought it was because our love was more spiritual than carnal. Do you think I’d look good with bigger breasts?”
Willow patted the door handle affectionately and took a few steps back into the room.
“Well, it’s easy enough to get to a G cup, although honestly I don’t know why anybody would want to. There’s no need for people to pay thousand of pounds for surgery, all you have to do is eat double your own weight
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