by Shel Stone
Adelaide was impressed that Jesus had gone so far as to ban her, but then he really didn’t like drama in his club. It was bad enough that the drunk patrons got into fights—having his temporary squeeze cause a full spectacle because she’d gotten caught cheating on her boyfriend was just bad manners in his book. They hadn’t really spoken about it, and Adelaide wasn’t going to bring it up.
Chrissy was still being a cow. Adelaide could see her across the room. They had just resorted to not speaking at all, which made for a tense and awkward time in the dressing room. Interestingly, Chrissy had stuck it out with Nathan. They seemed to be still going strong, which must be a record for her. Maybe it had something to do with why Chrissy was so mental all of a sudden. Adelaide knew she was supposed to be cut up about it, but she just couldn’t be bothered. In the past, drama with her friends was the worst possible thing that could happen. Now, with the drama she’d experienced lately with her work, and Cheyenne, not to mention Quentin, it didn’t really get to her like such things used to. A piercing sadness shot through her, thinking of Quentin, and she had to remind herself that this was the grown-up thing to do. In the process, saving herself a truckload of heartache later.
There was a clown on the dance floor, drunk and dancing his heart out like he didn’t care who saw him. Adelaide smiled at his enthusiasm. Sometimes a clown came along and broke the monotony of the meat market on the floor, girls dressed up in their sexiest clothes, stuff they had probably bought especially for this trip, giving guys the eye, gradually pairing off.
Someone touched her calf and Adelaide startled. They weren’t allowed to be touched. Her eyes shot down, seeing Quentin at her feet, his arms wrapped around her calves. She couldn’t believe her eyes for a moment. What the hell?
“What are you doing here?” she asked and he looked up, his eyes glassy and his focus wandering. He was drunk and not just drunk, shit faced. “Did you drive here?” It was the first thing that came into her mind.
“I’m an arsehole.” His attention moved to her legs and he ran his hands down them.
“You can’t be here. I’m working.”
“There was this girl tonight.”
“Oh great,” Adelaide said, pretty sure she didn’t want to know where this was going.
“And I’m a fucking coward.” His words slurred. “She set off into the world completely blindly, and I’m too pussy to keep my girl.”
Adelaide had no idea what he was talking about and she didn’t quite know what to do. Trish stopped dancing on one of the nearby podiums, holding her hands up questioningly. Adelaide shrugged and grimaced. Quentin was causing trouble and looking around, she saw one of the bouncers approaching.
“Come on, buddy,” Jared said, as he moved forwards, his muscles barely fitting in his suit. Quentin would get pummelled if he was set to fight, which he might well be in the state he was in. “Time to go.”
“Fuck off. This is my girl,” Quentin said, keeping his grip on her.
Jared was about to get rough when Adelaide held up her hand. “It’s okay. I’ll sort this.”
“You know this clown?”
“He’s my ex, kind of. I’ll get him out of here.”
“If he causes trouble, I’ll haul him,” Jared warned. Bringing their personal lives into the club, particularly with drunk mumbling alcohol breath was strictly not allowed.
“I love you,” Quentin said and Adelaide closed her eyes.
“You can’t be here. I’m working.”
Trish was signalling furiously for her to get him out of there, but Adelaide knew Quentin wouldn’t budge, until Jared came and made him. Getting down, she grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to the back where their changing room was. She just needed to get him off the floor, and ideally hidden.
“You really can’t come in here like this. You’ll get me fired,” she said as she pulled him into the dressing room. He didn’t stop, kept going until he was kissing her. Adelaide was taken by surprise. This was the kiss she’d missed. The taste of him flooded her senses, along with a sweetness of whiskey. Everything fell away for a moment. His arms were around her, drawing her to him.
“Quentin, don’t,” she finally managed, when he moved from her lips to her neck. “This isn’t a good idea.” He always did things in extreme. Didn’t just drunk-dial like a normal person—he had to come by, kiss her like this. This was torture. “Quentin,” she said again in dubious protest.
His lips returned to hers and her thoughts started fleeting away. God, she’d missed him, his arms around her, the feel of her body to his. This was temptation if she’d ever known it.
Gathering her wits, she pushed him away. “We can’t do this. You can’t just come here and toy with me.”
His gaze finally settled on her eyes. “I want us together. Not doing this was stupid.”
“We talked about this. It isn’t going to work.”
“I’ll make it work,” he said, moving towards her again. His focus was entirely on her mouth. She wasn’t going to get much reason out of him that night. “We are good together.”
Adelaide wanted to argue, but he was already stroking his lips along the most sensitive part of her neck and her eyes swam shut. “You have to go.”
He didn’t even respond—too focused on pulling the strap of her top over her shoulder, kissing along her skin. Furious heat pooled inside her. Crap. She wanted this as badly as he did, but he was making it really hard to be responsible when he was here, kissing and teasing her like this.
Her top was now down by her waist and his hand was cupping her breast, kneading the sensitive flesh until she couldn’t breathe. “I can’t be what you want me to be,” she said helplessly.
Grabbing her low around the waist, he lifted her up along his body so he took her nipple in his mouth. Warmth and deliciousness melted her insides. He slowly lowered her again and she welcomed his deep, searching kiss as she slid down his body. Double crap.
She didn’t even notice as they lost their balance and became entwined in the clothes hanging on a thin standing railing, which broke their fall. Somehow her thighs had gotten wrapped around his waist and she fully felt how intent he was. Too drunk to stop and see reason, there was only one thing on his mind. He kissed her deeply, the feel of his hips to hers driving her wild with heat.
Someone could potentially walk in the door, but she’d stopped caring. All the aching and hunger she’d felt now had a release. He was there, with her. The consequences she would have to deal with later. He wanted her as much as she wanted him, and that was all that mattered for the moment.
He pressed her shorts down with his thumbs, still kissing her, as if he wasn’t able to stop, even for a moment. Finally, she managed to pull a leg out, not bothering with the rest as he settled between her thighs, his bared tip at her entrance. She couldn’t breathe, feeling frantic with need. Forcefully, he pressed into her and she groaned with the onslaught of sensation, clasping her arm around his shoulder. It felt so right, like she’d been denying herself something she needed and was now starving for him.
His lips were on her again and she lost herself completely in the wonder of sensation they generated between them. With a frown, she wondered how she was going to give this up yet again, feeling like she’d barely survived the last time. It was too sweet, with a bitter twist of pronounced loss. But for now, it was just them, the two of them, joined, stealing these moments.
Lungs burned for oxygen, but she didn’t care. The tension intensified as he moved in and out of her, building until she couldn’t take anymore. His breath on her lips drew her eyes to his. Now he didn’t seem lost at all, or drunk. He was right there, every part of him available to her. The pleasure grew so strong she couldn’t keep the intense connection going, the sensations were tearing her away and she was almost sorry as powerful waves of pleasure surged through her. His shortening breaths mirrored hers as his release culminated and he grabbed her forcefully around her waist, holding them together as tightly as could poss
ibly be.
His weight was fully on her and she realised they were entwined in a jumble of clothes on the floor, the metal bar of the clothing rack was somewhere under her lower back. This would be a sight for anyone who walked in the door, but Quentin refused to move, laying his head on her shoulder, his ragged breathing turning calm and slow. He’d fallen asleep.
Pressing herself up on her elbow, she shimmied out from underneath him and got up. Quentin was fast asleep, likely too far gone to get up. Lying on his stomach, he still looked dressed, his dishevelment hidden underneath him. She bit her knuckle and wondered what to do. None of this had been planned. It had just kind of happened.
Getting him out was going to be more trouble than it was worth. Perhaps she would just let him sleep it off for a while. Part of her wanted to lie down right next to him and go to sleep, too, but felt she’d caused quite enough trouble for herself for one day. Instead, she let him sleep, laying a blanket on him before returning to her platform, trying to think through any alternatives to dragging him into a taxi in an hour or so when her shift was over and taking him home. She couldn’t very well leave him here in that state.
Chapter 53
QUENTIN HAD MORE OR less become a fixture in their apartment. Trish didn’t strictly mind. It was just weird. She didn’t pry, but Adelaide had merged like osmosis back into the relationship she had just escaped from. Adelaide hadn’t really said anything about it—he simply didn’t leave, staying even as they went to work.
“You okay?” Trish asked Adelaide as they stood at the bus stop, the sun shining golden around them as it neared dusk.
“I’m alright,” Adelaide said, her arms crossed with her backpack forming stripes down her shoulders.
“I don’t quite know how to have this conversation, but is Quentin ever going to leave our apartment? Not that I mind you having a guy over, but I thought you two were calling it off.”
“It’s complicated,” Adelaide said, a frown on her brow. It looked like she was going to leave it there, but then she shifted like she was uncomfortable. “He wants us to be together.”
“You kind of are, every minute of the day, in fact, except when you’re at work.” Trish knew she was prying, but she needed to know if there was something to be concerned about. “Like, is he having a mental breakdown or something? He literally hasn’t left the house.”
“Breakdown might be a bit strong, but it’s like he thinks if he leaves I’m going to up sticks and disappear.”
“Are you?”
Adelaide’s frown deepened. “We tried this and it didn’t work. But now he says we can make it work, that it was his doing, that he lost his nerve. His friends basically think I’m a stripper.”
“Fuck them.”
“Well, that’s kind of what he says, which is nice in theory, but in reality, does it really work that way?”
“So you’re not convinced and he’s holding on for dear life.”
“Basically.”
“So he’s in, is he? In every conceivable way, and he’s now placed the ball in your court—and he’s not leaving the apartment until you decide.”
“I suppose it can be put that way.”
The bus came and they both waved it down, taking a spare seat in the back.
“What the hell am I supposed to do?” Adelaide asked as the bus took off.
Trish didn’t quite know what to say. She got both sides. Quentin was right that you just had to go for it, but Adelaide’s concerns were legitimate. “Do you like him? No, I guess the question is: do you love him?”
For a moment, Adelaide looked tongue-tied, unable to answer. Instead, she just groaned. “Does it matter?”
“Yes, it does.”
Adelaide hugged the backpack she’d placed on her lap and stared out the window at the sea as they travelled down the coast to Porto Banus.
“If you love him, screw everyone else. They don’t friggin matter.”
“And what if he starts getting all embarrassed about my low rent jobs again?”
“Why, are you planning on being a club dancer forever?”
“No, but that’s what I am now.”
“Well, then. He’ll just have to learn to put up and shut up. You just have to march to the beat of your own drummer.” Thoughts of Cory sneaked into her mind. Talk about a dude who couldn’t find a drummer to march to. Maybe she was being judgy about his flakiness, too. Not that he wasn’t a dick, because, eww, sleeping with his clients.
“Maybe you’re right,” Adelaide said, biting her lower lip. “Maybe I need to suck it up and just do it.”
“You’re certainly not having issues on the doing front. The walls aren’t that thick in our apartment,” Trish said with a smile and Adelaide shoved her with her elbow.
*
Nathan’s party came rolling around and Trish felt uneasy about it—not enough to be antisocial and refuse to go. There was still the whole Chrissy thing, and then the Cory thing. She wasn’t quite as creeped out about Cory now as she had been. Maybe it was time to chill out about that one and just release all that negativity to the universe.
She would go out with everyone and have a good time, and just chill. Putting on the Riptide necklace she got when she was fifteen during a rather spectacular summer, she was ready to go. Adelaide and Quentin were waiting in the lounge.
“We good?” she asked.
“Ready to go,” Adelaide responded and they all got up. The one good thing about Quentin was that he had a car, and it put Cory’s slutmobile to shame. Not that she was normally into cars and stuff, but in this case, she made an exception.
Predictably Nathan had chosen José’s for his do, which signified he wanted a more sedate evening. The problem with introducing these guys to José’s was that it had now become their hang out as well, which was bad when drama came along. Trish wasn’t giving José’s up for Cory, or anyone.
Trish sat in the back of Quentin’s Audi with her legs crossed. The car had that new leather smell and everything was perfect and shiny. His hand was on Adelaide’s thigh and they both looked comfortable that way. It would be a shame if they couldn’t find some way of being together. They both seemed to want to, even if Adelaide was doing her best to be pragmatic about it.
Chrissy was probably going to blow a gasket about Adelaide bringing Quentin to the party. It was right about the time when Adelaide and Quentin first started their thing that Chrissy got all funny, and Trish suspected it was sheer jealousy. If that was worth losing a friendship, Trish couldn’t even understand, but then Chrissy was her own person.
The driveway down to José’s was narrow and covered with vegetation. The sign on the main road hadn’t been updated in the last decades and the paint was peeling. José certainly wasn’t marketing the place with any discernible effort, apparently choosing not to when he could easily get better clientele who would pay ridiculous prices. Maybe José just didn’t want to deal with those people. Trish couldn’t blame him.
“I haven’t been here since I was a kid,” Quentin said as he swung into the gravel carpark. “Can’t believe it’s still here.”
“It’s pretty much where we hang,” Adelaide said.
“I am definitely having one of his burgers tonight. Talk about fond memories from the past.”
They got out and the car lights flashed as Quentin locked it. Adelaide moved to Quentin, who put his arm around her. They so belonged together—looked calm and content when they were near each other. Unlikely as they were on paper, in reality, they just fit.
Some of the guys were standing around the car park, beers in hand, just talking.
“Hi,” Chrissy said sweetly, coming to hug them all, starting with Trish and finishing with Quentin. “Hi, I’m Chrissy,” she said, smilingly to Quentin. Alright, that was just odd, or maybe Chrissy had turned a new leaf. Somehow Trish suspected not. This was just more of her head games. Maybe because Quentin was here. Trish wouldn’t put her past it to stir trouble. Why had she never seen this side of Chriss
y before?
Cory stood on the other side of the circle, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. No denying that he looked good.
“Are we going to head inside?” Trish asked. She was hungry and wanted to eat.
Slowly the group started to move towards the steps that led up to the main deck. It was rather busy that night and they weren’t all going to get seats, which was okay.
Quentin was true to his word and bought a burger, while Adelaide ordered the frittata. Trish did the same and felt a bit uncomfortable when Quentin paid for it. She could tell that Adelaide did as well. Trish bought some drinks instead, ordering beers all round.
Nathan was on form that night, already drunk by the looks of things. As it was his birthday, he could celebrate it any way he wanted.
“So what have you guys been up to?” Chrissy asked as they moved away from the bar. Trish could see her eyes wandering over their clothes and then discreetly over Quentin.
“Just hanging out,” Trish answered, still suspicious of Chrissy, who was now coyly sucking on the straw in her drink. If Adelaide noticed what Chrissy was doing, she didn’t say anything.
“We better find a seat,” Quentin said.
“We’re sitting over there,” Chrissy said, stating the obvious. There wasn’t enough room for all of them, though. Trish decided to find a spot near the outer railing which served as a skinny bar. She could happily have her frittata there.
“Hey Trish,” Hannah said, coming over. “I feel like I hardly see you anymore. Poof, one day there and then you’re gone. End of an era, I guess.”
There wasn’t much Trish could say. During the week, they hardly saw each other now. It was sad, but life got in the way.
“I see Adelaide is with Quentin again,” Hannah said, looking back over her shoulder. It wasn’t an ecstatic ‘yay’ for their relationship, more a note of observation. Maybe Hannah had the same qualms about the viability of their relationship.