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‘Eleanor!’ he yells, and I look over my shoulder, having to hold back my laugh when I see him keeping a weeping Lucy at arm’s length, a wary look on his face. ‘I don’t do emotional women.’
‘No shit,’ I mumble, taking off and leaving him to deal with her.
‘Princess, get your arse back here now!’
I ignore him and arrive at the doors, smiling sweetly at the doormen. Both glare at me like I’m something on the bottom of their chunky boots. ‘Go away, little woman,’ the largest one grunts, linking his arms behind his back and looking straight through me. Little woman? If I didn’t need those bags, I’d show him how little this woman is. I had nothing to do with the anarchy inside, but I guess I’m guilty by association.
I smile tightly. ‘We left our bags on the bar. Would you be so kind?’
‘No.’
My neck retracts, insulted, and my battle to keep hold of my temper gets a little trickier. I can hear Becker behind me yelling my name, getting more and more irate with each shout. I don’t have time to fuck about.
‘Oh, screw you, ape-boy.’ I dip between them stealthily and leg it to the bar, hearing the delayed sound of hard strides hitting the floor behind me. I spot my purse, but Lucy’s huge clutch bag is nowhere to be seen. ‘Crap.’ I grab mine and scan the floor.
‘Hey!’
Whirling around, I clock ape-boy coming at me, his huge feet stomping angrily. ‘Oh shit.’ I abandon my search and dart for the fire exit, flying out of the doors like a hurricane. I take a precious moment to remove my heels, before speeding off across Covent Garden, checking over my shoulder for the doormen, finding them in hot pursuit. Jesus, for colossal beasts, they’re fucking fast. I return my attention forward and power on, seeing Becker up ahead, still holding up Lucy.
His eyes go like saucers when he sees me barrelling towards him. ‘Are you fucking kidding me?’ he blurts out, his eyes following my sprinting form as I sail past.
‘Run!’ I shout, starting to laugh, the absurdity of the night suddenly hitting me like a brick.
‘I’m gonna spank your arse until it fucking bleeds, Eleanor!’
‘Okay!’ I call, thinking my agreement might get him shifting quicker.
Taking a swift glimpse back, I see him tossing Lucy’s hysterical and useless weight over his shoulder before breaking into a sprint that defies reason with a woman sprawled all over him.
I make it to Becker’s BMW only a second before him, puffing and panting like a loser, whereas Becker has hardly broken a sweat. The door opens and he practically chucks Lucy into the back before throwing himself into the driver’s seat. I join him quickly, falling into the passenger side and slamming the door. But Becker doesn’t speed off like I expect. He’s staring in his rear-view mirror, eyes narrowed somewhat. I look over my shoulder out the back window and see the two gorillas standing in the road, bent with their hands braced on their knees, but that’s not what has Becker’s attention. There’s a car parked nearby, and once I’ve seen who’s in the driver’s seat, I shrink. Stan Price. He’s watching Becker’s car, and something tells me he’s seen the entire crazy episode outside the bar. And me. Has he been following me all night? I don’t say anything, mindful that Lucy is with us. I don’t want her asking questions, so I just look at Becker and wait until he looks at me. When he does, his lips are straight, his nostrils flaring, and he shakes his head mildly as he starts the car and pulls off quickly.
‘What’s he doing here?’ I ask quietly.
‘Not now,’ Becker warns, looking up to his rear-view mirror to Lucy.
Looking back, I find her still crying, her head limp and bobbing with the motions of the car. Not now? So what’s he got to tell me? I return my attention to Becker, eyeing him suspiciously. I hope he doesn’t think this is the end of it. I want answers.
‘Well, that was a pleasant evening,’ he says seriously, keeping his attention on the road. ‘We must do it again sometime.’
Despite myself, I laugh, falling back into the seat. ‘Anytime.’
He shakes his head mildly, looking across to me.
‘What?’ I ask.
‘I’m so in love with you, princess,’ he says quietly, probably to save Lucy’s ears and remind me of why I’m caught up in his wild world. ‘You’re fucking chaos, but I love you so damn much.’
I’m chaos? He’s hilarious, but I say nothing and place my hand on his thick thigh, squeezing.
‘Perfect,’ Lucy squawks from behind us, springing to life, telling us that Becker’s attempt to be sensitive has fallen flat on its face. ‘My life is over and you two are drooling all over each other. Don’t mind me. I’ll just curl up into a ball of despair and rot. Where’s my bag?’ she asks, a hive of activity breaking out in the back of Becker’s car – mutters, curses and jerky movements.
