Love You Better (14 page)

12.

N
ervous?’ Effie looked at Smith as he ran a hand through his hair for the hundredth time in ten minutes.

‘Not at all.’

Effie laughed and shook her head. He’d never admit it, but he didn’t have to; the apprehension was written all over his face. She looked around at The Hub, a small bar sandwiched between a Thai restaurant and a vintage clothes shop on Brick Lane. It was owned by a friend of Doug’s, and coincidentally, it was where Doug had watched Sketch play for the first time before almost signing them on the spot.

Chaos reigned as the last-minute preparations took place. The boxes stacked on tables were being unloaded, cables tangled and trailed along the heavily scuffed wooden floor and plywood sheets sprayed with art by a graffiti artist were being tacked along the exposed brick walls. A sound engineer jumped down from the stage to fiddle with his laptop while another man laid a large square of lacquered flooring in front of the stage.

Effie watched as a man wheeling a BMX bike came in, his face breaking into a grin when he looked at Smith.

‘Smith.’ He grabbed Smith into a hug, almost squeezing the life out of him. ‘How’s it going, bro?’

Smith laughed as they broke away, and he ran a hand through his hair. ‘Mental, as you can see. It’s good to see you, man. Effie, this is Ben,’ he said, gesturing to his friend. ‘He’s the one who’ll be doing the display.’

Ben Morel, the twenty-four-year-old BMXer who’d already won two world championships and was getting ready to defend his title for the third time, looked remarkably similar to Smith. Both had dark hair and tattoos, but they had a different kind of energy. Smith’s was laid back, exuding a quiet air of confidence and
nonchalance
, whereas Ben looked ready to bounce off the walls with excitement as he shook Effie’s hand.

‘Ah, so
you’re
Effie.’ Ben laughed.

Effie looked at Smith, shaking his head with a laugh, clearly trying to look less embarrassed than he was. She smiled at Ben. ‘That’s me. It’s nice to meet you and your bike. Sounds like a pretty cool job you’ve got.’

‘I like it too much to call it a job, but yeah, stuff like this is cool. I’ve followed Sketch for a while, and when Smith mentioned the launch . . .’ He shrugged with a grin. ‘It would have been rude not to.’ He turned back to Smith. ‘So listen, if it’s alright with you, I’m just gonna go dump my bag and get a little practice in. We can catch up later?’

Smith nodded as they bumped fists, and Effie watched as he propped his bike up against a table before heading downstairs to the cloakroom.

Effie looked at Ben’s bike. ‘He seems cool.’

Smith had the most diverse group of friends she’d ever co
me acr
oss.

Smith nodded. ‘Yeah, he is. I met him in Vietnam. He’s ridiculously talented, and he’s doing this for free, just for the fun of it. To be honest, I didn’t think he’d be able to make it. He shattered his coccyx a few weeks ago after falling mid-trick.’

‘Clearly he likes to live dangerously. No wonder you two are friends.’

Effie grinned at him, and for the billionth time that day, her stomach fluttered. Even though The Hub was only filled with
workers
, the anticipation was building. Drinks were being stocked behind the bar, the DJ had finished setting up his decks and the Sketch trio were sound-checking with The Starlets, the band booked as the opening act.

‘So,’ Effie said, ‘he knows about me, huh?’

Smith laughed and raked a hand through his hair. ‘Don’t start.’

Knowing that he talked about her with friends other than Mickey made her feel oddly warm inside. She’d bet he didn’t speak about Claire. So far, he’d remained tight-lipped about their date, which was fine by her. She didn’t want to hear about it anyway. She looked at him as he opened the flap on one of the boxes on
the table
.

‘What did you tell him exactly?’

‘Why do you want to know?’ he replied, looking at her.

‘Wouldn’t you want to know what I tell people about you?’

Smith shrugged. ‘I don’t really care what people say about me. Unless it’s something fuck awful.’

‘Exactly. How do I know you haven’t said something really mean about me?’

He laughed and went back to poking around in the box.

‘So, come on. What did you say?’

She flicked his arm, and he rolled his eyes as he pulled the lid down. ‘I told him you’re a pain in the arse. Now come on. We’ve got a ton of stuff to do.’

He slid the box to the other end of the table, and Effie grinned.

Later, Effie pushed her way through the crowd to where Mickey and Lou were stood with their backs pressed against the wall, having found a sliver of space in the packed-out room. Twenty minutes into a half-hour set, Sketch had seemingly won everyone over. At first, the Archive clan had stood together, feverishly watching the music journalists scattered among the fans and industry types. They were all from local papers except for one from
NME
magazine
– the one person Doug had never taken his eyes off. From what Effie had seen, he looked suitably impressed, as did the others, but they’d have to wait for the reviews before being able to really
celebrate
.

‘Where’s Smith?’ Effie asked. She wanted to congratulate him. They’d all pulled together for the launch, but he’d taken on the project as a personal one and put his heart and soul into it.

She’d been sceptical when he’d turned up at the Archive office back in December, but he’d proved his worth ten times over. His contacts had proved invaluable when it came to almost every aspect – hiring speakers, the graffiti artists, Ben and his BMX; it was all because of Smith. He’d done good.

‘He popped outside on the phone,’ Lou said. ‘Good luck
finding
him when he comes back.’

The Hub was small enough as it was, but with people packed in, it would be a nightmare trying to find anyone. It had been a tough enough job keeping an eye on the journalists, and they’d only managed that because that bunch seemed to be the only ones who didn’t dance. Effie looked down at her watch. The live set was due to finish, and Ben would be taking over the floor for a few minutes, making use of the lacquered surface that had been laid down especially for him and his bike. Smith had to be back for that, surely?

‘This is off the chain,’ Lou said. ‘Everyone seems really c
ool too.
’

Lou took her beer from Effie but barely even looked at Mickey. Clearly, things weren’t improving between them any time soon, and the look on his face cut into her. No matter what Lou said, she couldn’t believe he was serious when he’d told Lou to take their relationship as it was or leave it.

‘Yeah, they’re a good crowd.’ Effie nodded. ‘That’s what you get when you’re around here.’

‘Hipsters,’ Lou said with a wink. ‘I’ve lost count of the number of beards in here.’

‘Slightly judgemental, are we?’ Effie laughed, but Lou wasn’t wrong. The Hub had bought right into the hipster scene, even serving cocktails in glass jars, and everyone in the bar seemed to epitomise the spirit of the trendsetting East End of London where anything went. Brightly coloured trainers danced with winkle-picker shoes, jeans mixed with vintage suits and trouser braces, and heads of scruffy hair under an assortment of hats bobbed to the music next to Brylcreemed quiffs. Effie loved it.

As Sketch finished up on stage, Ben came through the
parting
crowd, and the DJ launched into classic nineties hip hop as he started spinning his bike around.

‘I can’t believe Smith’s missing this,’ Effie said. ‘I hardly even know what BMXing is, but even I know he’s good.’

Mickey nodded. ‘He is. Smith messaged me after they met. He was stoked. He loves BMX. He used to ride one around all the time when we were kids.’

Of course he did. Smith loved anything that was remotely cool. Rock climbing, surfing, wakeboarding – he did it all.

‘I know it’s not Purl,’ Effie said, ‘but this is pretty cool, right?’

‘Because we love you, we’ll overlook it this once.’ Lou grinned. ‘Going to Le Gavroche is pretty special, and you might even get to see Michel Roux Jnr. I’m insanely jealous.’

Effie grinned and turned back to the stage just in time to see Oliver picking his way through the crowd, with his eyes on her. What would he make of this? If he thought Purl was
wanky
, he’d probably think The Hub was unbearably ‘try hard’.

‘You made it,’ Effie said when he finally stood next to her; he dropped a kiss on her lips.

‘Getting into this place was a nightmare. The queue’s
outrageous
.’ He turned to greet Mickey and Lou, giving them his charming megawatt smile.

An outrageous queue was good. Aside from the hundred invites they’d sent, there was capacity for forty fans who’d won tickets
on Tw
itter and a further thirty for the door. She knew all too well the tactic used by clubs and bars to keep people outside to create a buzz for passers-by and publicity.

‘Nice place, though,’ he said, looking around, and Effie heaved a tiny sigh of relief. She’d have hated him to slate it, especially after all the work that had gone into the launch. ‘Do you want a drink?’

She shook her head. ‘It’s alright. I’ll go. You’ll take forever to get served. It’s quicker if I do it.’

‘The perks of being married to an insider.’ Oliver winked and handed her a twenty pound note. ‘I’ll have a beer, and get another round in for you lot too.’

‘Thanks.’ Effie grinned and pointed towards Ben and his
dizzying
display. ‘Watch this guy – he’s amazing. I’ll be back in
a tick.
’

She kissed him on the cheek and left, weaving her way through the crowd towards the bar. The air was hot and clammy, the music sending the heavy thud of bass lines out towards the crowd. There was a sense of danger in the air. Maybe
danger
was the wrong word, but there was a dark undercurrent, giving her the feeling that it was one of those nights when anything might happen. She put her elbows on the bar to carve out a little space, waiting for one of the bar staff to take her order.

‘Grab us two beers, Eff?’

She turned her head at the sound of Smith’s voice behind her. ‘Finally, I wondered where you’d got to.’

‘I was outside. Ben invited some people along, and they had a bit of trouble getting in. The queue is nuts.’

‘Olly said the same thing.’

Smith outstretched an arm and laid a hand on the bar next to her. ‘Oh. When did he get here?’

‘Just now.’

Effie twisted her body to look up at him. ‘You should be proud of yourself. Tonight’s been great.’

Smith shrugged. ‘It wasn’t just me. We all did it together.’

‘I didn’t think you’d be able to pull it off.’

He pulled a face of mock disappointment. ‘Thanks for the vote of confidence.’

‘I mean it. For a while there, I really thought Doug had lost it, handing Sketch over to you, but this?’ She looked around the room. ‘It’s cool. Really cool.’

‘You know me. I like to rise to a challenge. And I didn’t want to let him down.’

‘Remember when Mickey said he was proud of you back in Ireland?’ she asked, and Smith nodded his head. ‘Well, I am too. It’s nice to have you back. You’ve changed.’

‘Man, that’s high praise coming from you.’ He laughed, and Effie swatted his arm.

‘You have, though. You seem much less . . . I dunno. Twattish.’

Smith laughed again. ‘Thanks. I think.’

As someone else joined the queue for the bar, Effie was shoved sideways, and Smith’s arm instinctively shot around her waist, pulling her into him to stop her from falling. His arm wrapped across the entire width of her back, his fingers pressed firmly against her side. He’d acted on pure instinct, but the movement was as familiar to Effie as the act of breathing. She’d forgotten how it felt.

Being short, she was used to being jostled around in bars and clubs, especially the ones Smith would go to, where everyone was so drunk or high they barely even noticed her. In an instant, she remembered how Smith would never be too far away from her, silently making sure she was safe at all times, that her glass was never empty, that she knew he was there. She looked up at him as he held her close, starkly aware of his thumb pressing into the side of her bra. All he had to do was move it a centimetre or so, and he’d be brushing it against her breast.

And she wanted him to do it.

The DJ changed the music and Alt-J blared all around them, the slow, seductive bass line pulsing as the crowd throbbed to the beat. He didn’t move his arm away. Instead, he continued to look at her, scanning her face and drinking in her features as if he were looking at her for the first time. Her pulse quickened as she felt the heat from his body against hers, but she didn’t dare move. He’d said he didn’t want her. When they’d sat on the beach in Ireland,
he’d m
ade it clear and told her exactly what she’d thought she wanted to hear from the moment he came back. He’d moved on, and he wanted her less than she’d wanted him, just like it had always been.