by Jenny Frame
Holly looked around the restaurant and smiled. It was full of sports memorabilia and Americana. The walls of their booth had a chalkboard surface, and many people who had sat there had left messages.
“Great table, isn’t it? I’ve never been a celebrity by association before.”
“People must be fascinated by your relationship with Story St. Clair,” Quincy said.
“St. John,” Holly corrected her but thought she’d detected a note of annoyance in Quincy’s voice. “I have no relationship with Story. I’ve only heard from her twice since I went out with her. Once to apologize for the newspaper headlines about the Queen Consort, and tonight, as you saw. Story has more glamorous and more beautiful women than me to keep her company.”
“I doubt that,” Quincy said then looked down at her menu equally as quickly.
Holly was taken aback at that comment. Her stomach was going all sorts of crazy. There was something magnetic about Quincy, some force pulling her to this quiet, troubled soul. She was desperate to know more about her, and after they ordered Holly said, “We hadn’t finished our questions game.”
Quincy clasped her hands in front of her tensely. “If we must, but it was my turn next.”
“You can have a double go next time. What are your parents like?” Holly asked without waiting, so as not to give Quincy much time to think.
Quincy now stared down at her tightly clasped hands. “I didn’t know my father. My mother never talked about him.”
“Didn’t you ask her?” Holly asked.
“It’s complicated, and we don’t have that kind of relationship,” Quincy said flatly.
Holly couldn’t believe a kind of mother-daughter relationship where you couldn’t talk about these things.
“Someone must be named on your birth certificate,” Holly said.
Quincy looked up sharply. “That’s a very personal question. Most polite people would not ask that.”
“Ugh, stop with the stuffiness, Quin. It’s a harmless question, and you know you can trust me, don’t you?”
Quincy remained silent. She looked as if she was fighting with herself.
“There’s that tight jaw again,” Holly said. “Listen, anything you say to me will stay between us, I promise. I mean, I’ve not told anyone about your nightmares, have I?” Holly said that without thinking. She’d forgotten for a moment that Quincy didn’t know that she knew. Quincy’s eyes were wide, her jaw as tight as Holly had seen, and Quincy looked as if she was about to flee.
She grabbed Quincy’s hands and squeezed them. “Look, I’m sorry I mentioned the nightmares. I won’t ask anything about them, I promise. Please, don’t run.”
“How did you know?” Quincy asked.
“I heard you one night. I woke up and wondered what the noise was. I went out into the hall and heard the noise coming from your room.”
“You’ve told no one?” Quincy said with a sense of panic.
“No one. I’d never do that to you. Believe me, I would never break your trust, and I won’t ask you about them, but if you ever want to talk about them, I’m here.”
Quincy let out a long breath. “Thank you for not saying anything. I don’t want anyone to know. My superiors might question my effectiveness.”
Holly smiled. “I promise.”
Their pizza order arrived and brought their conversation to an end, and there was an awkwardness hanging between them. Holly had to get Quincy back to enjoying her night and not thinking about her pain.
“This pizza looks amazing. I bet a posh officer like you isn’t used to eating pizza.”
She was rewarded by the smallest of smiles.
“You’re right,” Quincy agreed, “but this is delicious.”
Holly looked into Quincy’s eyes and said, “Let’s just enjoy tonight and forget about everything else. Okay?”
Quincy nodded. “Okay.”
Chapter Fourteen
George closed the Winnie-the-Pooh book when she saw Teddy had drifted off to sleep. She pulled up her covers, then stroked her brow with the back of her hand.
“Sleep well, Teddy bear.”
She heard the door open slowly and Bea crept in. “Is she asleep?”
“Yes. Snug as a bug in a rug.”
“The prime minister’s on the phone for you,” Bea said.
George frowned. “It’s late for her to call. Did it sound serious?”
“I don’t think so, but you know Bo Dixon. She’s slippery, and so hard to read.”
“I’m just coming.” George followed Bea out of Teddy’s room and gently closed the door. She went over to the secure computer terminal on the side table and pressed her fingerprint to the screen. “Prime Minister?”
“Forgive the late hour of my call, Your Majesty. I hope I didn’t disturb you and the Queen Consort?”
George sighed inwardly. Bo Dixon couldn’t sound more insincere if she tried. “No, not at all. How can I help, Prime Minister?”
“First of all I have to congratulate you and the Queen Consort on a highly successful tour so far. The press and public are delighted on both sides of the pond. I hear President Watson was over the moon with her popularity polls after your visit. You are leading Team Britain remarkably well, ma’am.”
George felt her anger starting to simmer. Bea must have noticed, because she came over and sat on the couch beside her and took her hand. As if she needed Bo Dixon’s condescending approval.
Bea mouthed, “What?”
George just shook her head. “I feel a but coming, Prime Minister.”
“Not a but. As I say, Team Britain is being well represented, and we have some very important business engagements coming up on your tour, and we can’t afford to have any weak links in the team.”
“Weak links?” George played dumb, but she could feel what was coming next.
“I understand Captain Quincy was made to look quite a fool today, and the video went viral. I hear whispers that she may not be quite sound. We can’t afford to have our officials or security personnel look like fools. I did counsel you that she might not be the best choice for the Queen Consort—”
George couldn’t hold her tongue any more. “Excuse me, Prime Minister, but you are talking about a recipient of the Victoria Cross. A marine who without a thought for herself went through hell to try to save her team.”
Bea could now get the gist of what was being said. She stood up, crossed her arms angrily, and mouthed, “Tell her to bugger off.”
George almost burst out laughing. She could always rely on Bea.
“Ma’am,” Bo Dixon continued, “I don’t mean to be disrespectful. I’m only trying to look out for your best interests, and not have your triumphant tour marred by someone who is not capable of the job.”
“Prime Minster, you know why she left the marines. She was a hero yet again, saving a young woman from harm. Captain Quincy does nothing but give of herself to her country, and to its people. She put a dangerous predator behind bars.”
There was a long silence, then Bo said, “You also know what happened after she saved that woman. It’s up to you, ma’am. I’ve given you my best advice, and the rest is up to you.”
“Captain Quincy stays,” George said firmly. “Goodbye, Prime Minister. End call,” she instructed the computer. “Bloody fool.”
Bea came and put her arms around George’s waist. “Did bloody Bo Dixon want you to get rid of Quincy?”
“Yes. She didn’t want Team Britain to be embarrassed like it was today.”
“Quincy was just doing her job. When it happened, I thought it was a gun. I got the fright of my life, but Quincy didn’t hesitate to jump in front of us.”
Bea rested her head on her chest, and George wrapped her arms around her. “She never would hesitate. That’s just who she is. A selfless, brave, and honourable officer.”
“I heard more than I was meant to, I think. Who was the woman she saved?” Bea asked.
“After she received her medal, she rescue
d a young marine from a sexual assault. The man was given a jail sentence for it.”
“What a hero,” Bea said.
George said, “The real heroism is living with the aftermath of tragedy, and that’s what Quincy has done.”
***
Holly and Quincy left the restaurant and Quincy hailed a cab. “Back to the hotel, Holly?”
“Not likely. There’s still one thing on my list.”
They got into the cab and Holly gave the driver the name of a place and smiled at her. “Have you ever been to a gay club, Quin?”
Quincy wasn’t expecting that. “No, no, I haven’t.”
“Don’t look so terrified. I’ll keep the hordes of women at bay.” Holly chuckled.
“Hardly, I’m not the type to attract attention,” Quincy said.
Holly furrowed her eyebrows. “Have you seen yourself in a mirror?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Holly shook her head. “It means you are really good looking, tall, brooding—the women will lap you up.”
“Then I’ll open my mouth and bore them to death,” Quincy said.
Holly play hit her on the arm. “Bloody hell, Quin. Have a little faith in yourself.”
The cab couldn’t stop outside the club, so it dropped them on the corner and they began to walk.
Again Quincy offered Holly her arm, and Holly took it. Quincy loved the feeling she got when Holly hung on to her or touched her. It was exhilarating, exciting, and gave her a warm feeling inside. Despite their very different personalities, she’d learned that she and Holly had the same fundamental principles, of loyalty, discretion, and responsibility.
They walked into the club, and Quincy’s eyes and ears were assaulted with noise and lights.
Holly led her through the throng by the hand. The array of strange haircuts, similar to Story St. John’s, were abundant.
They arrived at the bar, and she bought some drinks. Quincy had a lot of trouble being heard by the bartender over the music.
Holly took a sip of her drink and said, “What do you think?”
Quincy looked around at the room of women and men, shouting, singing, and gyrating to the music, and generally acting like a bunch of drunk young people.
“It’s very loud,” Quincy said.
Holly laughed and was moving to the music while sipping her drink. “I bet you never did this at officer school.”
“Not quite. Did you go to clubs like this when you were at university?” Quincy asked.
“Oh yes, especially after I broke up with my first girlfriend. I got my heart broken, and I decided I would live life without worrying about love.”
“I always thought you were straight,” Quincy said.
“Most people do. I’m bisexual, but after that heartbreak…well, I somehow knew inside I wouldn’t lose my heart to a man, but I could have a lot of fun with them.”
Holly was dancing more and more on the spot, and Quincy just stood rigidly against the bar. She wasn’t exactly showing Holly a good time. She didn’t know how to do these things, be charming and entertaining. “I bet you had much more fun when you were out with Story St. John.” Why had she said that? Don’t compare yourself to her—you’ll never win.
“It was a lot of fun. Meeting a film star is always going to be a night to remember, but I never quite felt I was there with her, if you know what I mean. She was constantly checking her social media, taking pictures of us and posting them online. She wasn’t present with me, not like you and I have been tonight. All your attention has been on me, and you’ve never once looked at your phone,” Holly said.
“I’m not on any social networking sites,” Quincy said.
Holly took a step closer and said, “Still, even if you were, I doubt you would be so involved in yourself that you would forget you were with me.”
“I’d never forget I was with you.” Quincy’s heart thudded.
Holly took her hand gently. “Come and dance with me.”
Panic spread through her. “No, I can’t dance, not like that.”
Holly laughed. “Yes, you can. Queen Georgina said the same thing when we took her to a gay club.”
Quincy couldn’t believe it. “George danced to this sort of music?”
“She had a good reason to—Bea.”
Quincy hesitated, and a boyish looking woman approached.
“Are you two together?” the woman asked.
“No,” Quincy said quickly.
Then the woman asked Holly to dance.
Holly replied, “No—”
“No, on you go, Holly.” She didn’t want her to go, but she didn’t want Holly to feel obliged to stay with her when she had wanted to dance since they got here. “Enjoy yourself.”
Holly gave her a slight scowl but followed when the other woman led her to the dance floor.
Quincy felt tense and annoyed, and she couldn’t take her eyes off Holly as she began to dance. Holly danced just like she did everything else in life, with vigour and enthusiasm. She felt the smile creep up on her face as she watched Holly. It was nice to see her dance. She appeared to absorb the music and really feel every word. Quincy envied Holly’s ability to feel so freely. It was tantalizing.
The picture changed when her dance partner got closer and closer to Holly, then put her hands on her hips.
Quincy zeroed in on the hands on Holly’s hips, and she hated the sight. Jealousy was another new emotion to add to her list, and she didn’t quite know how to handle it.
She closed her eyes and tried to bury it, like she did every other emotion, but this clearly didn’t work. When she opened her eyes, she saw Holly pushing the hands off her, just for her dance partner to put them back, on her buttocks this time.
Quincy didn’t know what happened, but her legs just started to stride over. When she arrived at the couple, she tapped Holly’s dance partner on the shoulder.
“May I cut in?” Quincy said.
“What do you want, buddy?” the woman said.
“I’m dancing with Ms. Holly now. Find someone else to play with.” Quincy towered over the woman.
Holly said, “I’d listen to her, if I were you. She’s in the marines.”
The woman’s eyes went wide, and she hurried off. Quincy took Holly in her arms, the way she had been taught to dance at school. It was the best she could do.
“Thank you for saving me from Miss Wandering Hands.”
“You’re welcome,” Quincy said.
“You’re so funny.” Holly felt right at home in Quincy’s arms, despite her awkward dancing.
“Why? My dancing?” Quincy asked.
“Well, that too, but the May I cut in? It’s like being in that eighteenth-century romance novel I mentioned before,” Holly said.
“I’ve been brought up in a very privileged, rule-driven circle. It’s just who I am.”
“I wouldn’t want you to change,” Holly said.
And Holly didn’t want her to change, just loosen up a bit, for her own good more than anything.
“Listen,” Holly said, “why don’t you get us some more drinks while I visit the ladies’?”
“Okay.”
***
Holly slowly made her way back from the ladies through the throng of people. It was then that she thought maybe her clubbing days were behind her. She’d had more fun talking to Quincy on the boat, in the pizza place, or painting her models than she was having here, but she’d wanted to show Quincy all the things she’d missed out on. Her evening with Quincy had been much more understated than her time with Story, but much more fun. She just wished Quincy would open up more.
She finally made her way back to the bar and stopped dead when she saw a woman standing very close to Quincy. Her first reaction was anger, then annoyance. She couldn’t leave Quin for five minutes. Wait, why did she care?
Of course I care.
The woman took another step closer and put a hand on Quin’s chest, but instead of being more annoyed, Hol
ly chuckled. Quincy stepped back to the bar as far as she could go, and then leaned back, desperately trying to put distance between her and the overeager woman.
“Looks like you need rescuing, Stompy,” Holly whispered to herself. She walked over and put her arm around Quincy’s waist. “There you are, sweetie. Making new friends?”
Quincy looked at her with pure panic in her eyes. “Ah—”
Holly pulled Quincy closer and placed her other hand on Quincy’s stomach, claiming her with both hands.
“She’s taken, honey,” Holly said to the woman.
The woman took a few steps back and gave her a forced smile. “Lucky you. I wouldn’t leave her alone for long. She’s gorgeous.”
Holly clung to Quincy more tightly and inhaled the sexy scent of Quincy’s cologne. It turned on all her senses.
“Oh, I know she is. That’s why I have two arms around her, and I’m not letting go,” Holly replied.
Once she was gone, Holly said, “You can breathe now, Quin.”
Quincy let out a long breath. “Thank you for rescuing me. I just froze.”
Holly reluctantly let Quincy go. “You’ve never been chatted up before?”
“Once or twice, but it’s easier to blame protocol in the military, and then run.” Quincy straightened her tie.
It occurred to Holly then that maybe Quincy had never had a girlfriend. She had to have slept with someone, but maybe Quincy had never been in a relationship.
“Well, don’t worry, if you’re with me, I’ll save you.” Holly was more than happy to keep women away from Quincy. Delightfully happy.
Quincy handed her a drink. “Here, I got you another fresh orange and lemonade. Are you sure you don’t want something stronger?”
Holly took a sip of her drink and shook her head. “No, contrary to what you saw after I went out with Story, I’m not a big drinker, and besides, I’d rather have a clear head with you.”
“Why?” Quincy asked.
“I suppose because I was so nervous when I was out with Story and her entourage, the drinks went down quickly, and she always had a fresh bottle of champagne at the table.”