by Nicky Wells
At ease now that he had homed in on a destination, he munched through his meal while he observed some more. The place was filling up nicely. Spectacularly dressed women were arriving in little groups, laughing, chatting, and obviously looking for a good night out. Would one of those good nights out involve him, Alex Morgan?
Another plus point was that there was absolutely no way Casey would end up going to this place. It simply wasn’t her kind of drinking hole.
He sighed. They hadn’t talked about the logistics of how or where they would pick up their fateful strangers, or how they would avoid running into each other. Idly he wondered where Casey would go. Would she go to a club, or maybe a restaurant? Maybe she would look for somewhere with live music, somewhere with a band and a stage upon which she could clamber to wow the audience and the band…
Stop it, Alex admonished himself. We’re not on the lookout for new partners. We’re simply trying to find out whether we still have the ability to satisfy someone. That’s all.
There. His fish and chips were well and truly polished off, even though he had barely noticed eating them. His soft drink had been consumed. It stood to reason that he couldn’t put off the inevitable any longer; he was ready for battle. Time to throw himself into the fray.
Reluctantly and with leaden limbs, he prised himself off the bar stool and made his way across the road.
The bar was noisy and heaving with women and the odd male or two. Alex leaned casually against the counter, a beer in hand. He had considered ordering something fancy like a colourful cocktail, knowing that an unusual choice of drink would be a babe magnet. But on balance he had decided that he wasn’t that keen for the plan to work and that a beer would go down infinitely nicer. Even with his blokey choice of beverage, he could already see the vultures circling. He had been noticed, and subtle wars were being fought out as to who would have first dibs at this single, available male.
Yes, single. At the last minute, he had remembered to take off his wedding ring, much as it pained him. He had stuffed his most sacred piece of jewellery carefully in the coin fold of his wallet. His ring finger felt bare and naked and very exposed, especially as it was clearly the subject of considerable scrutiny. Had it always been like this? he wondered. Had he simply not noticed these games when he had still been free and single?
There, the die had been cast. A tall, curvaceous blonde detached herself from her gaggle of friends and sauntered towards him. The game was on.
A small shiver of excitement ran through Alex’s body. Despite himself, the thrill of seduction aroused him.
‘Hello, handsome.’ The blonde sidled up to him in her extremely high heels and gave him a wide smile. Her ample bosom strained against a blue sequined top, and her fingernails were painted an acute shade of red. A cloud of perfume enveloped Alex like a spicy caress, and he had to swallow hard. Her scent was a little too heavy for his liking, but he would get over it.
‘Hello,’ he replied simply.
‘You on your lonesome tonight?’
‘Sure am.’
He grinned. They sounded like two actors in a cowboy movie.
‘Fancy buying a thirsty girl a drink?’
Whoa there, don’t hold back. ‘It’ll be my pleasure. What would you like?’
The blonde jumped slightly and erupted in a tinkle of laughter. ‘Aren’t you quite the gentleman? I’ll have a glass of house white, please.’
Alex nodded and signalled to the barman. ‘I’m Alex,’ he said over his shoulder while he was waiting to order her drink.
‘Shelley.’
‘Nice to meet you, Shelley.’ The unfamiliar name nearly stuck on his tongue.
‘Are you from around here, Alex?’
‘I live in London,’ he replied truthfully.
A glimmer of disappointment flittered across her face. ‘Do you come here often?’
Evidently she was looking for The Man. The right one, the one who would commit. Alex felt awkward.
‘No, not really.’
‘Ah.’ Shelley was disappointed, he could see it on her face. She looked over towards her friends, who gave her a unanimous thumbs-up alongside a few ruder gestures of encouragement. As though not to lose face in front of her friends, Shelley squared her shoulders and offered him a dazzling smile.
‘Who cares? We have tonight, don’t we?’
‘We do, yes.’ Alex’s voice emerged husky and hoarse. He was completely unprepared for the speed of events. Her drink hadn’t even arrived yet, and already they had agreed to spend the night together?
After the initial race to establish a shared purpose, Shelley visibly relaxed. She became chatty and started cracking jokes, and Alex found he quite enjoyed her company. Behind the slutty exterior hid a clever and sensitive woman who conversed easily about world politics, the current number one bestselling book, and Salman Rushdie. The more they talked, the more certain Alex became that he couldn’t take Shelley to bed. For one, he really didn’t fancy her enough. Second, he couldn’t shag-and-run like Myles, or even the Alex of old. And last but most important: he loved Casey far too much. Now what?
Shelley took that decision out of his hands.
‘I’m simply starving,’ she simpered after her second glass of wine. ‘There’s a nice pizza place around the corner. Fancy some dinner?’
Alex suppressed a snort. She was trying to condense a first, second, and presumably third date all into one night. Drinks, dinner, and sex. If you can’t have your man for good, at least get him for what he’s worth.
‘Sure. Dinner would be nice,’ he agreed amiably, even though his fish from earlier still hogged prime space in his stomach. But he wanted to get out of the bar, and he knew that Shelley would score esteem points with her friends if she was seen leaving with her catch. Whatever happened afterwards—or not—would be up to her to tell, or not.
Shelley took him to a secluded authentic Italian restaurant slightly off the beaten track. The scent of tomato sauce with oregano and melting cheese greeted them as they pushed open the door, and Alex’s spirits lifted. He could never turn down a pepperoni pizza, and this one promised to be excellent. Maybe he could bring Casey here the following day.
Feeling slightly more exuberant now that he was out of the flesh pot of the bar, he ordered garlic breads, pizza, and wine. Shelley took on a completely different persona in these more sedate surroundings. Gone were the glitzy accent and affectations, and out came a more down-to-earth girl with a very pragmatic outlook on life.
‘We ain’t gonna be shagging tonight, are we?’ she suddenly threw at him as they were waiting for pudding.
Alex shook his head, slightly surprised by her perceptive nature but glad to be off the hook. ‘No, we’re not. I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t mean to lead you on. I was—I was looking for… um.’ He felt himself redden.
‘A shag. You can say it, I won’t be offended.’
‘All right then. I was out looking for a shag, but for all the wrong reasons.’
‘You on the rebound?’
Alex shook his head.
‘But you are single?’
Alex shook his head again. ‘It’s complicated.’
Shelley hiccupped with irrepressible laughter. ‘Isn’t it always, mate? But tell me this, is your name at least Alex?’
Alex grinned. ‘My name’s Alex, and I am from London. I didn’t lie about any of that.’
‘But you’ve got a missus at home. Is she pregnant?’
‘No. No, she’s not pregnant.’
Shelley was perplexed. ‘I don’t get it. What’s your problem? You don’t love her anymore?’
‘I love her very much.’
‘So she doesn’t turn you on?’
‘She does.’
‘So what then? Why are you out looking for sex when you have a lady at home who’s not pregnant, who you love, and who turns you on?’
‘That’s a very good question, Shelley, and one I’ve been asking myself all night.’
Shel
ley laughed some more. ‘Let me guess: It’s complicated.’
Alex looked at her thoughtfully. She was great fun to be with and easy to talk to. How much could he tell her? He opened his mouth to launch into a confidence, but the image of his band’s publicist popped into his mind.
From now on, your personal life is a closed book. Never tell anything to anyone, however friendly they seem. If I see details of your personal life splashed all over the social media, and they didn’t originate from me, I’ll eat you alive.
He grinned to himself. Emily was one forceful woman. He would never have thought that her stern warning would keep him out of mischief in this most random of circumstances. Nevertheless, he remembered her warning just in time.
‘It is complicated. More complicated than I can begin to explain.’ He spoke softly, and Shelley listened intently. ‘Anyway, I’m terribly sorry if I’ve led you astray. I really don’t mind what you tell your friends about… about how your night ended.’
Shelley pulled her mouth into a little moue, but her eyes smiled. ‘D’you know?’ she said. ‘D’you know, you’re a really kind man, and your woman is a lucky girl. Thank you for the meal and the chat. But I’m absolutely bloody knackered, so when we’re done here, I shall take myself home and sleep.’ She grinned broadly. ‘Wahey, I don’t have to hang out in a club until three a.m.’
‘Wow.’ Alex shook his head. ‘I had no idea that that’s how you party girls really felt behind that glitzy, exciting exterior.’
‘Oh, us party girls, we harbour all sorts of secrets, and not all of them happy.’ Shelley looked wistful. ‘But that’s a different story for a different man. What are you going to do now?’
‘Me?’ Alex recoiled, surprised by the question. ‘Same as you, probably. Go find my bed and catch up on some sleep.’
‘And the missus?’
‘Ah.’ He sighed deeply. ‘That’s a question for tomorrow.’
‘I am so intrigued. You’re like an international man of mystery. Of course, I don’t know if you’re international. Maybe only national.’ Shelley giggled. ‘And I’m drunk, even though I’ve only had a few glasses. Anyhoo—good luck with whatever it is that’s troubling you.’
‘Thank you, Shelley. And thank you for—well, for being there. Who knows what might have happened to me if it hadn’t been you coming my way.’
Shelley rose. ‘I don’t often say this to people because most people think I’m a bit of a dumb blonde, you know. But sometimes, the stars align right and events happen that work out perfectly later, even if you can’t see it at the time. So hang in there and have faith.’
‘That’s profound,’ Alex said gently. ‘And very beautiful. Thank you, Shelley.’
‘Bye, Alex.’ She kissed him lightly on the cheek.
‘Good night, Shelley.’
She left with an airy wave of her hand, and Alex lingered for a moment longer to finish up the wine. He felt like he had had a really lucky escape. And all right, so he hadn’t upheld his side of the bargain. He wouldn’t be able to tell Casey whether he could do it with a stranger. But he didn’t care. He had found out what he needed to know. He loved his wife truly, madly, deeply, and he couldn’t—and wouldn’t—stray. Even by mutual consent.
Chapter Ten:
Fancy New Friends
~Casey~
‘Eurrgh—rggghh. Ack.’
Casey drew a shuddery breath when the heaving finally subsided. She put down the toilet lid and rested her head on it. The coolness of the porcelain was soothing, but what she really needed was a long sleep or a hot shower.
After the lift doors had closed behind her, she had stared at herself in that gilded mirror for some time. A strange dizziness had settled in her head, and her stomach had started lurching. Casey had remained transfixed on the spot until she belatedly recognised the symptoms for what they were. With only seconds to spare, she had managed to locate and enter her room, where she had been marooned in the bathroom ever since. And, at last, the nausea passed.
Casey continued to focus on her breathing to steady her nerves. That was what had brought on this attack of the hurls. Nerves. It wasn’t food poisoning or a bug, she was sure of it. All morning her stomach had been roiling uneasily, but when she had left Alex behind, matters had reached fever pitch. It was her nerves.
I can’t do this, she thought, not for the first time. I can’t. I can’t.
She sat up and leaned her back against the tiled wall, facing away from the toilet now that her stomach was well and truly empty.
I can’t do this. I don’t want to do this. But oh, oh, I must. I promised Alex. It was my idea.
‘It was my idea,’ she said out loud. The sound of her voice was reassuring, and she continued talking. ‘It seemed like a good idea when we were safely back in London. But now that we’re actually here—’ She sighed deeply.
‘We must be mad. Maybe I should ring Alex and call the whole thing off. He didn’t want to do it either. But then again, we’re here now. We’ve come all this way, and we agreed on a plan. We have to find out.’
Casey shook her head. She would never admit this to Alex, but the curse idea was beginning to appeal to her. It would explain everything and take the responsibility for their plight away from them.
Reluctantly, she detached herself from the cool sanctuary of the bathroom and padded into the bedroom—the very blue bedroom, as suggested by its name—to find her phone. She curled up in the armchair by the window overlooking the sea and launched the Internet search engine. Until now, she had only taken Liza and Sasha’s word for it. She had only read a little of the article they had showed her. She hadn’t dared to investigate further, but perhaps if she did, she would find some answers.
Her searches for ‘seven years bad sex curse’ didn’t yield any information beyond what she had already been told. There was no indication of how to undo such a curse in any of the articles Casey read.
After a while, she decided to change tactics. A more general search on ‘undoing curses’ yielded a barrage of information ranging from simply refusing to believe in the curse to instructions for performing ‘candle magick’ and other, more complex ‘reverse hexes’. All of it sounded bizarre and surreal to Casey, and she was astounded at the amount of people who took this stuff seriously.
She closed her phone and looked out the window, digesting the new information she had gathered.
‘So, if the most powerful counter-curse is to simply refuse to believe in curses, we’re already there. We’ve never believed in it, not really.’
Or have we?
‘With that, either the disbelief strategy is not an effective counter-curse, or we’re quite simply not cursed to begin with. Which is what we’ve said all along.’
The mind boggles.
Casey sighed. ‘This is going nowhere.’ She stared out of the window some more. The sea shimmered and glinted silver against a pale horizon in the late afternoon sunlight. Seagulls wheeled overhead, their mournful cries carrying softly on a light breeze. On the beach, families were busy flying kites, playing games, and splashing by the water’s edge. A few adventurous souls were even having a swim. The scene was tranquil and suffused with happiness, at least from a distance, and Casey wished she could simply ‘magick’ herself into one of those lives.
Of course, she couldn’t do that. But even the simple act of observation calmed her troubled mind, and eventually she was able to focus once more on the task at hand.
With sudden urgency, she abandoned her position by the window and started the shower running. If she was going out tonight, she would need to wash away every trace of her sickness… plus every trace of Alex on her skin.
An hour later, Casey was walking along the promenade towards the pier. She had glammed up, but not excessively so. She would try, but she wasn’t desperate. It would either work—or it wouldn’t. For one second, she wondered how Alex would be getting on, but she quashed that thought before it could take root. Now was not the time to think of h
er other half.
Setting one foot in front of the other, she debated where to go. The obvious place would be a bar or a club, but Casey wasn’t in the mood for loud music, stale air, and sweaty bodies. Besides, what if she bumped into Alex? In all their planning, they had never considered dividing the city into two halves—a his half and a hers half—so that they could exclude the possibility of ending up in the same place. Where would Alex most likely go?
‘A club for sure,’ Casey said to herself. ‘Ergo, I’m going to stay away from clubs. And pubs. And anyway…’
Her stomach gave an audible rumble. Evidently it had recovered from its earlier unhappy acrobatics. Casey laughed at herself. ‘Yes, I probably ought to eat something.’
The thought of food lodged in her mind and couldn’t be displaced. As she kept moving further and further away from the main town centre, she let her eyes explore the frontages of the more exclusive hotels and restaurants on this stretch of promenade.
And then she saw the perfect place. Its blue neon sign winked at her like a beacon promising food as well as a safe haven. Peter’s Place, it was called. She remembered seeing it featured in a magazine a little while back. Tonight, she would dine exquisitely, but she wouldn’t pull. She would probably stick out like a sore thumb, but she didn’t care. In Peter’s Place, she would be safe. After all, Peter’s Place was an extremely trendy gay bar.
Her feet were miles ahead of her decision-making process, and she was eagerly stepping up to the host’s desk before her brain had quite caught up with her.
‘Table for one, please,’ she smiled.
The maître d’ looked at her inquisitively but didn’t bat an eyelid. ‘Certainly. For drinks or to dine?’
‘To dine, please. I’m starving. Oh, and I’d love a table by the French windows, if you have one.’
The maître d’ tilted his head. ‘You could sit on the terrace, if you like?’ He indicated the open space in front of the restaurant.