The Stylist Takes Manhattan by Rosie Nixon

Author:Rosie Nixon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2019-06-16T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

I sat fiddling with my phone on the SoulCycle sofa with a Band-Aid on my knee and the ice pack held on my forehead as I endured the final humiliation of having the whole class file out of the studio and past me. Some made little “Ouchy!” expressions as they took in my obvious injuries. All this and it wasn’t even eleven o’clock. I felt sure a sip of water could have saved me from falling off the bike and somehow blamed Vicky for not thinking that we might need to bring a bottle each; water might well have stopped me ending up with a giant egg on my forehead, an egg that would certainly scare the children at the photo shoot. Some water might have enabled me to smash the class and become a SoulCycle regular, in fact water might have made Victoria Beckham my cycling buddy. Why did she not tell me I needed water?

I only looked up once, and that was when Victoria passed—only, now we were in daylight, away from the ambient studio lighting, I could see she wasn’t the real Victoria Beckham, just a loosely passable lookalike. Great, so I was hallucinating a Beckham in there as well. On balance, I supposed this was a good thing, although “Just bumped into Victoria Beckham at SoulCycle!” was a fantastic line to put out on social media—no one need know the actual context. In the end, however, I decided to keep this little incident private; it didn’t really work pictorially, however hard I might try to filter my bruised head.

During the class I’d been sent the call sheet for the shoot plus a text from Mickey asking me to call him urgently about Liv. The egg on my head was throbbing, and I was hideously aware that this look was far from ideal for my first paid shoot. As if my hangover isn’t enough to deal with today. The last thing I needed was Mickey wanting to see me, too; surely the great press Liv had received from Coachella was enough to buoy his mood today.

* * *

“That could only happen to you,” Rob chortled when I told him what had happened. Vicky and I had cabbed it back to the apartment to change to get ready for the shoot and Rob was on his laptop working from home.

Only happen to me. Why do I attract moments of sheer idiocy so easily? Why? “Seriously, I’ve never seen a water bottle bounce off someone’s head that hard before,” Vicky told him, reliving every painful moment at my expense and clearly finding it sidesplittingly funny.

“Shame it wasn’t the real Victoria,” Rob said. “You might have an argument for a claim there. An insecure water bottle on a spinning bike?” He sucked in his cheeks. “I’m sure someone somewhere in America has sued over an incident like that.”

“Hmm, maybe . . .” I said, yawning, still resistant to accepting there was a funny side to my accident. All I wanted to do was lie down.

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