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“No, thanks, I'm busy.”
“Busy doing what? Come on man, we need to celebrate this. She said yes. You're going to be a married man.”
“I’m eating, and you know me – I never miss a chance to stuff my face.”
“Eating what exactly, you’re naked dude and–” Realisation finally hit and Tate grinned. His eyes glanced over Dion's shoulder and found mine. “Ohhhh.”
I blushed, ducking back around the corner.
Laughter followed me.
“Oh, well, we wouldn't want to interrupt you. Come by later, yeah?” Erik's voice carried. “When you've finished your dinner.”
The door slamming shut was loud as I rushed back towards the sofa, but Dion caught me before I could sit down. Spinning me around, he crashed his lips back to mine.
“You don't want to go to the party?”
“No, nu–huh. Only party I need is right here with me.” One small push and he sent me sprawling onto the sofa. “With you. Best party ever, I reckon.” Falling to his knees, he parted my knees, lowering his head between my thighs. “Now where were we, Mrs Granger?”
LOUIS
The Wooden Spoon was rammed, which was not surprising since it got leaked quite early by management that we would be there. I couldn't blame Yvonne, the bar manager, for that. Times were tough, and if using our name got her more money in the till, I was happy to help.
It didn't even matter that Dion and my sister hadn't even shown their faces. A party was a party, after all. They were busy doing their own loved up thing. And they were no doubt things I did not want to think about.
“You want another one, Louis, baby?”
Leaning on the sticky bar, I gave Yvonne the once over. Older, but still hot enough to be interesting. She had a hard edge to her that told me spending the night with her would be something I wouldn't forget for a while. Not that the pickings were slim, but Yvonne would know the score. I wouldn't need to explain that it was only a one–night thing, and I sure as hell wouldn't have to worry about her going to the papers or leaking photos.
“Drink, Louis?” she repeated, impatiently. “Do you want another one?”
Blinking, I smiled. “Why don't you pour one for yourself and come round here and join me?” There could be no mix up about what I was offering her, and she was interested. I could see it in the way her lips twitched.
“And why would I do that, Louis?”
Cocking my head to the side, I studied her. She knew why she should come round and join me. Just like she knew she was inevitably going to do it. This was just the game we needed to play first.
“It's busy, and I'm short staffed. I don't really have time to sit and drink. I have a delivery that still needs to be put away.”
Reaching across the bar, I brushed my fingers against her hand. “I could give you a hand with that in the back room, you know. I have a spare ten minutes.”
Shaking her head, she laughed. “A spare ten minutes.” She guffawed. “Is that all you need, Louis? I expected better.”
Swallowing down the bitter taste in my mouth, I glanced around. Maybe Yvonne wasn't the one for me tonight after all.
“But I could do with a hand, or I don't know….” More laughter. “Maybe a tongue…”
In the shadows of the far wall, a figure appeared hurrying from the direction of the ladies’ room. Even in the half darkness, I could see the way she was holding back her tears. Her face twisted with the effort it was taking to do it, but somehow she managed to keep herself together as she rushed towards the door.
“Yeah, another time maybe,” I muttered, slipping from the barstool, my interest piqued.
“Asshole,” Yvonne called after me.
Not that it mattered. Yvonne was already forgotten as I hurried after the disappearing figure of Erik's young assistant, Celia.
Catching her around the waist, I stopped her before she could vanish into the London street. “Hey, Celia, what's wrong?”
“I…uh…” She cleared her throat and gathered her wits about her quickly. “Nothing, I'm just heading home.”
