Six
Memory 3
I could barely walk in the heels. I had to lean on Jed the whole way from the car park to the restaurant.
Which Emily said was totally the point.
Viggo was already waiting for us when we got inside. “I forgot he’s always annoyingly early,” Jed grumbled. “For Viggo, ‘late’ is arriving on time.”
Viggo had—somehow—managed to wangle the best table in the restaurant. I had no idea how—the place was packed. I’d heard you had to make bookings months in advance.
“The man’s a legend,” Jed said, shrugging as we walked in. “I swear, he could sell awesome to Iron Maiden.”
I waited.
“You know the saying?” he went on, understanding the question mark my raised eyebrow was making. “Sell ice to the Eskimos? Or Inuits or whatever? Well, Iron Maiden have, like, the most awesome in the wh
