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‘Lucy?’ Marks voice drifts over my shoulders from behind, and I watch in astonishment as Lucy does a double take.
‘Mark!’ she sings, slipping down from her stool and giving him a hug. ‘I didn’t know you’d be here. Eleanor invited me out.’
I gulp down my stunned cough and tackle my drink before I give her away.
Mark showers my insecure friend with plenty of affection, kissing her full on the lips and then helping her back onto her stool. His actions and persona reinforce my thoughts. The leggy blonde from floor eighteen doesn’t stand a chance. I just need to convince my friend of that before she blows it. Men hate needy women.
‘We started in the Punch and Judy,’ Mark tells Lucy, though I know she already knows that. ‘But this place does a mean mojito and the music is great after nine.’
I raise my glass and smile when he registers the mojitos. ‘Already found them.’ I smile. ‘How are you?’
‘Great.’ He’s relaxed and cool, his beard a little shorter than the last time I saw him. ‘How’s the boss?’ A small knowing smirk materialises. ‘Or boyfriend.’
‘Magnificent,’ I reply, spiking a laugh from Lucy.
‘You girls want a drink?’
I look to Lucy for guidance, seeing her slowly shaking her head. I don’t get it, but I play along, nevertheless. ‘No, I’m good.’
‘Yeah, you carry on. I don’t want to interrupt your night,’ Lucy says, calm, cool, and completely composed. And once again, I’m gaping at her. She’s killing me. I swear, the girl has a split personality. I throw her a brief look of condemnation that she completely sidesteps. Once again, her eyes are cemented somewhere else, and with Mark still hovering beside us, it can only be one other person. Looking discreetly in the direction of Lucy’s fire stare, I see her. The girl from floor eighteen. She’s immaculate. Polished. Perfect. I feel sick on Lucy’s behalf. She’s chatting in a group – work colleagues, I guess – but her attention is flicking repeatedly to Mark’s back. And it hasn’t escaped Lucy’s notice.
Oh shit. I predict fireworks very soon. I sip my mojito, looking at Mark to gauge his take on the situation. He’s just paying the barman, completely unaware of the daggers being tossed behind his back, aiming for . . . what’s her name? I make a point to ask Lucy the moment the coast is clear. The whole scene is making me nervous, and I’m damning Lucy to hell for dragging me into the middle. My nerves only amplify when I see Lucy go all tense. She may as well be foaming at the mouth, and only a split second later, I find out why.
Miss Nimble Legs appears, her long, delicate fingers reaching for Mark’s arm. My hands twitch, ready to grab Lucy and hold her back. Oh, she’s a bold one. I can see the evil glint in her eyes. She knows exactly what she’s doing. ‘Mark,’ she purrs, resting her hand on his arm and holding it there. ‘The drinking games are starting.’
Mark looks over his shoulder, but not at her. He’s looking past her, to the crowd of work friends on the other side of the bar. ‘Be there in a sec, Melanie.’
That answers one question. I’ve also had something else cleared up irrevocably. Mark isn’t in the slightest bit interested in Melanie. His dismissiveness may as well have been a slap in the face, and Melanie’s sour expression tells me it hurt just as much. I hope Lucy is seeing this. I watch as Melanie slides off. Lucy’s narrowed eyes follow her path. They don’t even stray when Mark leans in and kisses her sweetly on the cheek. ‘Why don’t you come and join us?’
‘No.’ Her answer is mindless, her focus still firmly centred on the interloper. ‘I’m good with Eleanor. Go have fun.’ She turns a sweet smile onto him.
I want to smash her head on the bar. And I’m talking about my friend, not the brazen floozy who’s now giggling and thrusting her chest out as Mark joins the crowd. Lucy is so blinded by hatred for that woman, she can’t see what’s staring her in the face. Namely, a man who isn’t in the least bit interested in what Lucy is viewing as competition.
I swivel on my stool, back towards the bar, and search for the waiter. ‘Two more.’ I hold up my empty glass and resist the urge to order shots. I feel like I need it. It takes the waiter a few minutes to prepare our next round, and the whole time, Lucy is growling next to me.
‘Stop it,’ I warn.
‘Stop what?’
It takes everything out of me not to fulfil my previous thought and smash her head down on the bar. She needs some sense smacking into her. ‘He’s not interested in her. Look.’ I throw an arm out and watch as she turns her creased face towards Mark. ‘She’s vying for his attention and getting nowhere.’ At that precise moment, Mark turns and chucks Lucy a wink and a cute smile. ‘He wants to be with you, though that might change if he finds out you’ve been stalking him.’
