by Sofia Grey
He felt a conversation might be possible now, and this was a good time to talk to Adele in a more relaxed setting than the office. He couldn’t come out and ask if she was having an affair with Nick, but he could take some steps in that direction. “I’m going to have some peppermint tea. Can you stay a little longer?” He was the boss. She’d say yes.
Her eyes widened, and so did her smile. “I can stay for half an hour. I have a report to finish for my brilliant slave-driver boss, so I don’t want to be late back.”
It reminded him of the way Sylvie teased him the other day. “Don’t worry. I’ll give you a day’s grace, since I dragged you out for half the afternoon.”
“Drag away. The report’s nearly finished.”
She opted for decaffeinated coffee, and once the drinks were served, he jumped straight in. “How well do you know Nick Anderson?”
“Nick? We’re old friends from Uni. He was always a party animal. Has he toned himself down now?”
She blushed, and Jordan felt a ripple of suspicion. “I wouldn’t know,” he replied. “We play squash occasionally, but that’s all. Do you know his wife?”
There was a flicker of something on her face, but she masked it. “I’ve not met her yet, have you?”
Adele would make a terrible poker player. Jordan contemplated how far to take his questioning, but before he could say anything, she snapped her fingers.
“She’ll most likely be at the memorial service, so I’ll get to meet her then. Have you finalised the date for it yet?”
Good change of subject. His suspicions doubled. “Yeah. I’ll be issuing a communication tomorrow. It’s in two weeks.”
Sympathy flooded her gaze. “Did you know many of the casualties?”
Jordan’s mind flashed back to that awful day in all its horror. His mouth felt dry. “I knew all of them.” He saw Rico again in his head, being dragged from the ruins. His old friend. Jordan clenched his fist where it lay on the table.
“Marcus spoke about it a little,” said Adele. “He was badly hurt, wasn’t he?”
Another image exploded into Jordan’s brain. Marcus lying in a bloody heap on the floor. The awful thought that he was dead.
His temples started to throb again, and he massaged them with his fingers. “We’d better get back. You sort out a cab, while I settle the bill.” The day had been going well. He didn’t want to tarnish it by getting stressed about things he couldn’t change. It was all history now, but so damned hard to forget.
Chapter Eight
The house was empty when Nick arrived home, and it made for another sleepless night. Despite his multiple text messages and two voicemails, Lara didn’t call him back. She’d most likely gone to her mum’s, to cry on her shoulder and tell her parents how evil he was. Maybe his knee-jerk reaction hadn’t been the best, but he deserved a chance to talk about it with her. To explore the options.
He’d catch her at work. Armed with a large chai latte, her current favourite drink, he headed for her desk, only to find she’d called in sick. Nick made a hasty excuse and fled for his office.
The only person he could talk to about this was Adele, and she’d also gone AWOL, vanishing for a long lunch break with a customer. In desperation, Nick sent Adele a meeting request for 6 p.m. That was the only time she appeared to be free today.
His team was working on a planning exercise for the portfolio of campaigns they were setting up, and it meant he could retire to his office, to shuffle papers and stare into space. His world was falling apart within less than a week. He’d gone from newly appointed Director to abandoned husband—complete with missing pregnant wife—mysteriously on barely speaking terms with his boss. Jordan cut him dead in the corridor this morning. What the fuck did Nick do?
The afternoon dragged. He stared at his phone and willed Lara to call. She didn’t. The team packed up for the day, and Nick flicked through their plans, making notes of queries and details that needed attention. He’d almost forgotten the request to see Adele, but then she knocked on his door and smiled. At last. Someone was pleased to see him.
“You wanted a meeting? I’ve been busy today and blocked out my schedule. You should have rung. I could have come up sooner.”
“No problem.” He thought about his empty house. “I’ve had enough here today. Do you fancy a drink? Maybe get something to eat?”
“Sure.” She walked in and leaned against his desk. “What time do you need to get home? You were out last night as well.”
“Ah.” Nick looked down and fiddled with a pen, rolling it between his fingers. “Thing is, I’m not in any hurry to go home. Quite the opposite, in fact.” He sighed. “Lara’s gone, and I’ve no idea when she’ll be back.”
“Hell.” Adele looked horrified. “Where is she?”
“I assume she’s at her mum’s. She might not be. She didn’t bother to tell me.” Great. He sounded like a surly teenager.
“Is she going to tell them about the baby? And what you asked her to do?”
“I wish I knew.”
Adele furrowed her pretty brow. “You did call her back, right?”
“Yup. And texted her. She’s ignoring me.” He sounded childish, but Adele might be the only person on his side. “Look, I’ve had a shitty night and an equally fucked up day. What I’d really like is to go and get a drink, and talk about something other than the train crash my life is turning into. Will you help me?”
This drew a smile, and she nodded. “Come on, then. Where do you fancy? I’m new in this part of town.”
They ended up in a lively pizza restaurant, guzzling red wine and daring each other to eat the most pickled jalapenos. Adele won. Nick’s mouth was on fire, and he gave up while she munched on.
“Your breath will be vile in the morning,” he teased.
She shrugged, unconcerned. “There’s this brilliant new invention called mouthwash. You might not have heard of it.” She paused a moment and pulled a mock-serious face. “I’m not planning on snogging anyone tonight.”
Nick thought of Lara and forcibly blocked her out again. Every time she popped up in his mind, he wondered what she was doing, if he should call again, and when she would come home.
He picked up the reins of conversation. “If you’re still up for squash tomorrow night, how d’you fancy going out to a club afterwards? Jason was trying to get a group together for some new place he’s found.”
“Yeah. Works for me. Do you want to sort out the details with him?”
Nick nodded and topped up their glasses with the last of the wine. “Should I get another bottle?”
There was a hesitation, and she glanced at her watch. “Would you mind if we didn’t? I’ve got an early meeting with Jordan tomorrow. I want to be fresh for it.”
“Sure.” Should he tell her that she’d gazumped his slot with Jordan? Nick had been relegated to later in the day, which had him hurriedly rescheduling his calendar. He’d have to ask Jordan what he’d done to piss him off so severely.
****
Adele’s early meeting with Jordan was another success. He complimented her on the way she handled Bart Russo and invited her to a follow-up meeting with Bart’s key people. She felt as though she walked on air. Jordan liked her; that much was clear. Maybe he was open to their becoming friends? He played squash with Nick, so he was happy to socialise with his staff.
When the meeting was over, she paused in the doorway of his office. “There are a few of us going to a club again tonight, Jordan. Would you like to join us?”
“Thanks, but no.” He was regretful but firm.
She tried another angle. “I also wondered if you fancied a game of squash sometime. I’m trying to get a list of regular players.”
He gazed at her, his face bland. “I don’t think I have time for anyone else. Why don’t you ask at the gym?”
She knew when to admit defeat, and rather than get blown out with a third request, she went back to her office.
Squash was a blast. She beat Nick
with a clear margin, then showered and changed for the club. She loved clubbing, and dressed the part in a tiny skirt, clingy top, and over-the-knee suede boots. Tonight might be the night to break her dry spell.
There were eight people going. The plan was to grab some food in the wine bar over the road first, then head off in cabs to somewhere near Kensington.
Nick whistled in appreciation when she emerged from the changing rooms. He looked pretty good himself, in faded black jeans, black biker boots, and a trendy T-shirt under a fleece-lined hoodie. “You going somewhere tonight, Imelda?”
“Well, I’m going to a club. You wanna come along, Knickerless?” They both laughed and strode off together, to meet Jason and the others.
The wine bar was busy, but she squeezed onto a tiny stool at a cramped table, and Nick made the introductions, rattling through the names in sequence. Shari, a glamorous brunette, and Jude, a plump but smiley woman with a mop of curls, both worked in Nick’s team. Karl, Bajan, and Phil all worked in IT. And Jason.
The two women resumed their conversation on one side of the table, while Nick started talking to Jason. Adele sipped her drink and cast her gaze around the table, wondering who to talk to. Karl gave her a nice smile, but when she listened in to the discussion between the IT guys, they were talking about characters in an online game in intricate detail. She tuned out after a minute. Nerds. She met enough of them at Uni. She twisted in her seat and turned her attention to Jason and Nick. They were talking about action flicks, and she joined in with ease. They didn’t stay long in any case, as Jason was keen to get to the club before it filled up.
The club was good. Better music than some she’d been to, and full of beautiful people. Someone introduced her to Dimitri, an investment banker, and he introduced her to a champagne cocktail with an unpronounceable name. It was tart and potent, and very drinkable. He joined her at the TM-Tech table and insisted on buying cocktails for everyone. She knew without asking that he’d be keen on going back to her apartment later. She toyed with the idea. He was hot. High Slavic cheekbones gave him a regal look, and his smile was bright. He smelled good when they slow danced. Tempting. How long was it since she had sex? Months.
They danced some more, and Adele made a snap decision. She’d invite him home with her. One-night stands were not her thing, but she was sick of getting her heart smashed to pieces. Reinventing herself might be fun.
She led him back to the table, with the intention of collecting her bag and coat, and saying goodbye to the others. Most of the group had already gone. The only ones left were Nick and Karl. Nick was asleep, head down on the table, while Karl tried to rouse him. It was nearly two in the morning, and Karl wanted to go home but didn’t like to leave Nick alone. He hoped Jason might help get Nick outside, but the other guy left a short while ago with a brunette he’d been dancing with. She said she didn’t feel well, and Jason promised to get her home safely.
Nick lifted his head and groaned. “Want Lara,” he mumbled.
Karl smiled, but it looked pained.
“I told him she’d be waiting at home,” said Karl, “but he doesn’t believe me. Do you know where he lives?”
“Holborn, I think. I don’t know exactly where, though. How about you? Can you drop him off on the way home?”
Karl pulled a face. “I would, but I live in the opposite direction. I don’t like the idea of shoving him in a cab in this state. He’s completely wasted.”
He was right. Even though Adele could find Nick’s address by checking his wallet, she wasn’t comfortable about him going home alone. She’d take him back to her place, where she could keep an eye on him.
It would mean saying goodnight here to Dimitri, but Nick was her friend. She was responsible for him.
“Help me get him into a cab,” she said, “and I’ll go with him.”
She splashed Nick’s face with cold water, and with Karl’s help, she half-hauled, half-walked him outside, to find a cab.
Nick brightened when they hit the night air, and he draped an affectionate arm around her shoulders. “Melda,” he said, as he swayed gently back and forth. “Where we goin’?”
“I’m taking you home.”
“Home?” He managed to sound outraged. “The night is still young. I don’t wanna go home.”
Adele had to smile. Despite his advanced state of drunkenness, he was funny. Nick was a nice drunk. He became more amusing and playful, unlike other men she knew.
He sidled closer and rested his other arm on her shoulder. Gazing down at her, he looked serious. “What ’bout your toy-boy?”
She pretended to be cross. “He’s not my toy-boy.”
The arrival of the cab was a timely interruption, and they pushed Nick inside.
“Thanks, Karl. I appreciate it.”
“I couldn’t leave him. Who does that?”
“Everyone else?”
“Yeah, no.” He shuffled his feet. “Will you be okay? I can’t see Lara being pleased at the state of him.”
If Nick hadn’t told anyone else about Lara, it wasn’t Adele’s place to do so. “He’ll be fine. And it looks like he’s awake now.”
Famous last words.
By the time they reached Adele’s apartment block, Nick was snoring, his head resting on her shoulder. The cabbie had to help her get him inside and lay him on her sofa. She gave the man a huge tip as a thank you.
Adele unfastened Nick’s boots and tugged them off, removed his glasses, unzipped his fleece top, and rearranged the cushions as a pillow for him. There was plenty of spare bedding, and she dug out a quilt to cover him. She fetched a plastic bucket as an afterthought, in case he was sick.
So much for her great plans for the evening. The club was fun, and Dimitri would have been too. Instead, she had a drunken lump snoring his head off a few feet from where she’d be sleeping.
Not quite how she saw the night playing out.
Chapter Nine
Nick drifted awake. It was slow and painful. Not only did his head pound, but his mouth felt as though he’d been licking the bottom of a budgie’s cage. He cracked his eyes open and winced at the daylight. His stomach protested too, and nausea lurked close by. He forced himself upright and took in his surroundings. Where the fuck was he?
“Bathroom’s through there,” said a cheerful voice. Adele?
He needed to move—now—but made it to the toilet in time.
Christ. He hadn’t chundered like that in years.
He felt like death warmed up. No. Worse. When the waves of sickness receded, he staggered to the basin and rinsed his mouth, used some toothpaste on his finger to mock-brush, and gargled repeatedly with her mouthwash. He had a piss, checked that he hadn’t been sick on the floor or anywhere other than in the toilet itself, then splashed his face with cold water and tried to focus on the blurry image in the mirror.
A knocking at the bathroom door increased the thumping in his head. Adele called out, “You okay in there? Want a cup of tea?”
“Yeah, please.” His voice was a croak. How much did he drink last night? And how did he end up here? He ran a weary hand through his dishevelled hair and went to find her.
“Morning.” She was bright and cheerful, dressed in jeans and a striped cotton shirt, the sleeves rolled back. She presented Nick with a huge mug of tea, and he sipped gratefully.
“Hi. I... Thanks.” Drinking, standing, and speaking coherently at the same time was tricky.
Adele smiled and turned back to what she was doing. It seemed to involve chopping up a bar of chocolate, and Nick frowned as he tried to piece together the disjointed memories of the night before.
“We... um... Last night, did we—? You know.”
She huffed a laugh and glanced over her shoulder at him. “No, Nick. We didn’t do anything. I may be a desperate singleton, but I like my lovers to be at least conscious before I bed them.”
“Oh, yeah. Right.” That was good and a relief. He might still have made a giant ass of himself, though. “D
idn’t you meet someone last night? At the club? Did he stay the night too?”
She chuckled but carried on chopping. “That would be a great first shag, don’t you think? I can picture the conversation. Hey, darling. Come back to my place and don’t worry about the guy crashed on the sofa. He won’t hear us...”
Nick smiled. “Maybe not. I’m sorry if I messed it up for you.”
“No biggie. I gave him my number. I can wait for the next three days in the faint and dwindling hope he might call, then relegate him to the list of useless cretins I always seem to meet.” She didn’t sound annoyed.
Nick stepped forwards, curious about what she was doing. “What’s that? I didn’t know you cooked.”
“I don’t. But this isn’t really cooking. It’s called chocolate biscuit slice, and it’s the one cake-like thing I can make. It’s chopped up biscuits and raisins, mixed together with melted chocolate. Like Rocky Road. In fact, if you add marshmallows, it becomes Rocky Road.” She seemed to be making a huge tin of the stuff.
“Who’s it for? You going to eat it by yourself?” Nick always craved sweet stuff after a drinking binge, and right now he could probably eat a fair portion of it.
“I’m taking it to work next week. I thought I’d share it with the teams.” She shrugged. “I heard Jordan appreciates home baking.” It seemed like an odd thing for Adele to do, but in fairness, he didn’t know much about her these days. “Your specs are on the coffee table,” she said. “If you’re not in a hurry to go home, we could get some lunch?”
Food sounded good. “Yeah. Lunch, please.” He sniffed his armpits and noticed her grin. “Maybe I ought to shower first.”
“Might be an idea. I have a giant pyjama top you can borrow, if you don’t mind kittens wearing tiaras.”
It was either that or the sweaty, beer stained shirt he wore now. He nodded. “Thanks. I think.”
She laughed. “Go and clean up, stinky. I’ll finish this and phone out for something to be delivered.”