Fiction: Rose meets pop star Milo Jax at a party. The next morning, she can’t remember what happened

The party started like all the others: strangers pretending to be best friends while looking over each other’s shoulders for someone more important to talk to. The music was too loud, the volume you’d expect at the end of a wedding. Some guests looked bored because they’d seen it all before. Others were new to the scene and had taken flight, energised by the possibility of sex with a celebrity and the opportunity to snort some of their cocaine.

Rose was by the door looking at her phone. It was normal for talent to be late. He was so late, though, that it made a point. About what exactly she wasn’t quite sure. But it rattled her. She had about fifteen minutes before Minnie came over to complain about how hot it was inside (even though the air conditioning was scratching at Rose’s throat), a sure sign she was stressed.

The person she was waiting for was Milo Jax. He was a musician, the kind with several Twitter accounts for each of his limbs. Even Luce knew who he was, which was remarkable considering the only music Rose had ever heard coming from her room was by Craig David. At thirty-three, Milo...

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