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“Not even with James?” Juliette teases.
Aroha sighs again, but doesn’t answer.
“Aw,” Belle says, “you never know, maybe he’ll come to his senses over the next few days. What about you?” She asks Juliette. “Where is Cam, anyway?”
“At home. He didn’t want to come.” She studies her fingernails. “Things aren’t great at the moment.”
Belle glances at me, then at Gaby. “Is there someone else in the picture?”
“No.” Juliette takes a truffle. “Maybe.”
“Henry’s a big guy,” Sidnie says. “I like big men.”
“I wonder if he’s big all over,” Belle says.
“He is,” Juliette says, then laughs as Gaby pokes her. “I thought you meant his feet!”
“Juliette! You have to tell us the deets.”
But she shakes her head and looks at me for deflection. “Come on Missie, what about Alex? Tell us something interesting about him.”
I have a mouthful of champagne, trying not to sneeze as the bubbles go up my nose. “Actually I do have something interesting.”
“Ooh,” they all go.
“He has no refractory period at all.”
Their eyebrows all rise. “You mean…” Elizabeth asks.
I nod. “It just doesn’t go down. He’s ready to go again straight away.”
“That happens to Mack,” Sidnie says. “Not every time, but sometimes.”
“How are you still walking?” Belle asks.
I giggle. “With difficulty.”
“Don’t know what all the fuss is about,” Victoria says. “Our vibrators are permanently hard.”
We all laugh. I know Victoria and Evie are a couple, and also that Victoria is a transgender woman. She’s absolutely gorgeous, tall and beautiful, and I know she married the striking police officer Evie not long ago.
Gaby glances across the lawn at someone, then says, “Oh, okay, looks like it’s time! Come on everyone. We’re going down to the bottom terrace.”
Somewhat unsteadily, we all make our way down the steps to the terrace on top of the pool. I know the guys came here after their paintball session. They had a swim and watched a movie while they had dinner brought down to them, and we could hear their laughter occasionally. Now it’s relatively quiet down there, so I don’t know what’s going on.
On the terrace, several rows of seats face a square tiled area. Behind it, a makeshift stage has been erected in the middle of which stands a single microphone on a stand with a table to its right. To the far side a DJ is setting up in front of a turntable, and speakers have been placed around the terrace. There are also lights set up all the way around, one of which is shining on the microphone like a spotlight.
Puzzled and curious, we all take a seat. More champagne is brought around while everyone sits. Behind the girls, the older women join us, laughing and joking. I have no idea what’s going to happen. Belle looks nervous, and I don’t blame her.
The sun has set now, and the sky has darkened, with just a mild blush to the west, the rest of it turning a beautiful midnight blue. There are more deck heaters down here, though, so even though I’m only wearing a sundress, it’s not cold.
Someone cheers and a couple of others whistle.
“Oh my God,” Elizabeth says, “it’s Alex.”
Surprised, I follow her gaze to the right of the stage. She’s right—he’s climbing the couple of steps onto the stage. He’s wearing a black suit, extremely well fitting, as all his suits are. This one’s a three piece, as I can see a waistcoat beneath his jacket. He’s wearing a white shirt and a dark tie. I’d say he looks sophisticated, but his hair is flopping over his forehead, and he looks a bit… disheveled, which detracts a little from the refined appearance he’s probably trying to project.
He’s holding a whisky glass in his right hand which is half-filled, and he places it on the table next to the microphone. He beckons to one of the staff, and when the guy walks up to him, asks for something, and the guy nods and goes off. Alex then straightens and approaches the microphone.
