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‘Yes, meathead. And, for the record, your attempt at a British accent sucks egg. Extremely smelly, rotten egg.’
I’m still laughing when the line goes dead. For the second time, Izzy Coulthard has my ribs aching.
* * *
Black Velvet is the kind of bar that is always busy and never seems too crowded. You might call it classy. Not somewhere you would have found me ten years ago. In fact, five years ago, when I had my gym based in Brooklyn, you still would have been more likely to catch me in an old bar with sticky floors and a kind of grungy feel.
I spot the guys right away, in the same booth we seem to have adopted ever since the bar opened. Jerome – ex–football player turned club owner – is a client of Drew’s and, like most of Drew’s exorbitantly wealthy clients, they throw him perks. Judging from the bucket of Dom Pérignon in the center of the black table, shining under the light of a waterfall crystal chandelier, I’d say tonight’s perk is a bucket of champagne.
Kit sits with his arm across Madge’s shoulder. Sarah is looking at something on Jake’s phone. Drew is laughing with Edmond, who must have snuck out of the restaurant early and brought Becky along with him. Edmond’s wife, Amelie, is putting in a rare appearance too. When I say Amelie, think the Johnny Depp movieChocolat. Edmond’s wife looks just like Juliette Binoche: beautiful, sweet, high cheekbones, short, dark hair.
I deal with handshakes, fist bumps and cheek kisses, struggling to navigate around the booth, then slip onto the black velour seat next to Sarah. When I have a glass in my hand, Drew makes a toast. ‘To my kid brother. Heading back to London’s women and booze. It’s been good to see you.’
‘Good luck with that hard life there, Jakey,’ I say, tongue in cheek, when I clip his glass with my own. I swallow the fizz, appreciating the bubbles but wishing I was drinking beer.
‘Yeah, to the hard life,’ Kit says. ‘And by the way, if you ever need any help with that…’
Right on cue, Madge drives the palm of her hand into Kit’s shoulder. ‘Hey, jackass, I’m right here.’
Knowing this is how the two of them roll, we all enjoy the joke. Kit and Madge were Drew’s college friends but they’ve morphed into being our friends. They’re a solid couple and sometimes I think being able to joke with each other is what keeps them strong. Especially with two young kids. I know from the nights I looked after Cady alone in the early years that two young kids can’t be easy. And Cady was a good baby… so I was told. Truth be known, I envy Kit and Madge.
As I’m watching my friends, Sarah nudges her shoulder against mine. ‘Say, Brooks, Kristie Flemming told me there was a little, ah, altercation, at the gym this morning.’
I know exactly the altercation she means. The one and only time I’ve been unprofessional in front of guests of the gym. So, I do something that Drew taught me to do many moons ago, when he was a junior attorney. I deflect. ‘Kristie Flemming. I can’t place her. Anyone need a top-off?’
I reach for a bottle of bubbles and seek out a glass that looks like it could do with a top-off, which happens to be Becky’s. Drew eyes me, knowing I stole his tactic, but he doesn’t call me on it. There’s no need since Sarah gets in there first.
‘Brooks Adams, that was a blatant attempt to divert attention.’
I slide Becky’s full glass back to her and roll my eyes as Drew smirks, enjoying the situation. He knows I don’t like all eyes on me.
‘Sarah, seriously, is there anyone in Manhattan you don’t know?’
She ponders, overacting the point, the tip of her finger resting against pursed lips. ‘Mm, no. I make it my business to know what’s going on in my city. Think of it like citizen’s watch. A good deed. And my good deed for today is asking, on behalf of Kristie, who is the woman you had an altercation with this morning?’
‘Why does Kristie need to know that? So she can gossip to her wine club friends?’
‘Wow. Nerve. Hit. No, like many women who pay the extortionate membership at your gym, Kristie has a huge crush on you.’
‘That’s insane.’ I sip from my glass – a manly sip. ‘My memberships are not extortionate. They include the pool, sauna, steam room, all classes.’
Sarah looks at Drew and says, in her law firm telephone voice, ‘Your honor, the defendant is deflecting.’
Drew sits up straight. ‘Mr Adams, please answer the question.’
I growl at Sarah. ‘It was just some fitness woman who is in New York to promote her new book. She and her publicist came into the gym like God owed them a freakin’ favor. They upset my staff. I didn’t like it. That’s all.’
‘Reeeeally. See, Kristie said there was a spark between you and this woman. She also said the woman was a hot blonde and that she could have cracked nuts on her ass.’ Sarah throws a glance to Drew. ‘Rear, your honor. Could have cracked nuts on herrear.’
Trying not to let my amusement show, I say, ‘If by spark, you mean the kind you get from dropping a lit match on a diesel bonfire, I’d agree, there was a spark. And you’d hope to be able to crack nuts on her ass. She might be an arrogant jerk, but she’s selling fitness. You have to practice what you preach and all.’
‘Hold up!’ Jake says. ‘Which blonde are we talking about here? And, side point but relevant, did she also have a good rack?’
I pick a peanut from a ramekin on the table and throw it at Jake, hitting him flush between the eyes. ‘It was that chick from the TV commercials on Monday night.’
‘The one from London?’ Jake asks. ‘TheSalsa Yourself Slimchick?’
‘That’s her.’
