by Raquel Lyon
This is it. She’s alone. This is the moment you’ve been waiting for.
His police training kicked in, and he stepped to the left to approach her from behind, fearing she would flee if she saw him.
By the time he reached her, his heart was pounding like a jackhammer.
“Hello, Nessie,” he said as he sat down in the adjacent chair.
It took more than a second for her to respond as her expression changed from puzzlement to shock. “Matt? Is that you?” The shock almost immediately turned to hostility, injecting a bitter edge to her voice. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I was invited.”
“You didn’t have to come.”
“I’m the best man.”
She huffed. “Really? That’s debatable.”
“Yet true.”
Nessie’s eyes narrowed as she studied him. “You’ve grown up.”
“Yeah, that tends to happen.”
“And lost the glasses.”
“Laser surgery.” He was staring; he knew it, but he couldn’t look away. The hair might be different, the face a little rounder, but the same bright-blue eyes bore into him and clutched at his heart, as they had all those years ago.
“I had no idea you and Johnny knew each other,” she said.
“Surprising, considering what good friends you are,” Matt said sarcastically.
After an awkward pause, Nessie stood abruptly. “I’ve got to go.”
“No. Please.” Matt snagged her arm. “Stay.” He was finally speaking to her, and he couldn’t let her disappear without saying what he had to say.
Nessie glanced down at his hand and scowled.
Matt let go. “Sorry.” This was so not going to plan. “Please. I have to talk to you.”
“Talk? You wanna talk? I have nothing to say to you, Matt.”
“Well, I have something to say to you. I want to apologise for what happened between us.”
“You mean how you dropped me like I was shit on your shoe?”
“It was a dick move.”
“Yeah, well, it I’m over it,” she said, staring at the floor.
“I can tell by the anger in your voice.”
Her eyes shot up again. “What did you expect?”
“I don’t know. I’ve thought it through too many times, each with a different outcome.”
She tilted her head. “You’ve been thinking about me?”
Matt dared to hope he’d broken through her anger. “All the time.”
Her face hardened again. “You called me a slut.”
“I did not.”
“Maybe not that exact word, but the reference was there.”
“I made a mistake. I was young and immature. You surprised me, that’s all.”
Nessie glared at him. “You hurt me.”
“I know. I was stupid. I thought you needed someone who could keep up with you and give you the attention you deserved. I wasn’t ready. I said I’m sorry. Are you going to stay mad at me forever?”
A waiter interrupted and smiled at each one of them in turn. “Can I get you anything?”
Matt pleaded to Nessie with his eyes, and she sat down. “Two coffees, please,” he said before waiting for the waiter to be out of earshot and continuing, “Ness, do you ever wonder what might have happened to us, if things had been different?”
“Sometimes.”
Matt’s breathing quickened. “Really?”
“You were my first real boyfriend. I loved you. Then you dumped me and made me feel worthless. A girl doesn’t forget that.”
“I thought you were over me?”
Nessie leaned forward and stared at her hands clasped between her knees. “I am.”
But you said you loved me. That’s a start. Matt angled his head, needing to see more of her face. He’d missed it badly. “You’re not worthless.”
“Why did you do it, Matt, why?”
The question held pain. Matt reached out to take her hands in his, not only to comfort her, but also to feel her skin against his once more. She pulled them back before he could make contact. He didn’t blame her.
“I had dreamt about how our first time would be. I wanted it to be perfect, romantic. You changed that. You threw me a curveball I wasn’t expecting.”
The waiter returned and laid a tray on the table.
Nessie’s eyes fell on Matt’s wallet as he pulled out a note to pay for the drinks. The battered edges of an old photograph were curled over one of the slots. He caught her looking, slammed the wallet shut, stuffed it back into his jeans pocket, and poured their drinks.
“That’s it? That’s your reason? You wanted to make the first move?” Nessie said.
“Isn’t that the guy’s job?” Matt asked, lifting the cup to his lips.
“That’s a sexist comment and a shitty excuse.”
“I’m a traditional guy.”
“Amy thought you were gay.”
What the fuck? Coffee sprayed back into Matt’s cup. “I’m not gay.”
“The kissing wasn’t great.”
“Thanks for the critique.” He held her eye as he placed the cup back in its saucer. “I’ve improved.”
“I’m sure your girlfriend is happy about that.”
“I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“You don’t?”
“No.”
“I have a boyfriend.” Her words shot out like a dagger.
“So I hear.” Matt paused to study her face. “Are you happy?”
“Does it matter?”
“I’m interested.”
“We’ve been together for four years.”
“Must be love.”
She didn’t answer, and an uncomfortable silence ensued.
“There you are. I got out of the shower and you’d vanished.”
Angry at the intrusion, Matt turned at the sound of the voice. Was this the boyfriend? Some competition. The guy had more bling than a rapper and was as skinny as hell. He must have got dressed in a hurry too; he’d left more than one button undone on his shirt.
“I told you I was going to help Mum,” Nessie said.
“You should have shouted louder, babe. I didn’t hear you.” Matt caught the note of menace in the guy’s Irish accent as he turned to Matt and curled his lip at him. “Your mother’s changed since I last saw her.”
“Garrett, this is Matt,” Nessie said nervously. “He’s an old friend.”
“Yeah, I bet he is.” With a challenging scowl at Matt, Garrett grabbed Nessie’s arm and pulled her to her feet. “Catch-up’s over.”
Matt watched Nessie shrug Garrett away, but she made no further protest as they left the room together.
It didn’t look like love to him.
Chapter Eight
Nessie waited until the elevator door closed before confronting Garrett. “Did you have to be so rude?”
“I saw the way he was looking at you.”
“We were only talking.”
He drew her to him and cupped her cheek. “You might have been. He was thinking… thinking about getting into your pants.” Fingers drew circles on Nessie’s neck and smoothed down to her chest. “That’s my territory.” He bent to kiss her neck, and his hand slipped under the neckline of her dress and into her bra. “Only I get to do this,” he said as the elevator stopped, meaning he had to, too.
Three more days. That’s it. Three more days, Nessie thought.
“Now, where were we?” Garrett said, kicking the door to their room shut. “Ah, yes. Your gift.”
He picked up a box from the bedside table. Nessie hoped it wasn’t something too expensive. Garrett hadn’t bought her anything for months, and he might have decided to make it up to her. She didn’t want to fall in love with something beautiful and have to give it back. But it didn’t look like a jewellery box. In fact, it didn’t look like a gift box at all. Garret lifted the lid on the rusty, old tin and beamed.
“Drugs! You got me drugs?” Nessie was stunned.
“I don’t do weed either.”
“You did once.”
“One time,” she said, “and I passed out.”
“Yeah, that was funny,” he laughed, “but you overdid it.” He turned to snag a bottle of vodka that had been standing next to the box. “Have a drink,” he said, twisting the top off and thrusting the bottle at her chest. “It’ll get you in the mood.”
Nessie had no desire to get in the mood for anything, but she was still shook up from seeing Matt again and thought the vodka might calm her nerves. She took one swig, and then another. Matt had never looked so good, totally different to how she remembered him: gorgeous, clean-cut, solid—exactly the kind of man she should be with. She needed someone she could rely on, not someone who brought her nasty surprises in rusty, old tins. A man like Matt wouldn’t do surprises… or would he? He’d certainly surprised her just now. Why the hell hadn’t anyone told her he would be here?
Garrett opened the window and stepped out onto the balcony.
“Check out this view,” he shouted.
“I’ve seen it.”
“Not with me, you haven’t. Come here.” He beckoned.
Nessie sighed, took another swig, and joined him outside. Garrett had lit the spliff and was dragging on it slowly. He offered it to Nessie. She shook her head. The vodka was already warming her stomach.
“Don’t offend me, babe. I went to a lot of trouble to get this.”
Nessie doubted that. He’d probably confiscated it from the band. In any case, drugs weren’t hard to come by in his line of work. “I can’t go out with Mum, tonight, stinking of weed.” She tipped back more vodka and placed the bottle by her feet. Her mother wouldn’t appreciate her being drunk, either.
“Then have a shower.” He scooped her around the waist. “We can shower together.”
Nessie pushed him away, pulled the joint from his mouth, and stuck it in her own—anything to stop him from touching her. She sucked lightly on the tip and blew out the smoke through tight lips, attempting to hide the fact that she hadn’t inhaled. “You’ve already showered,” she said, holding out the joint.
He waved the back of his hand. “Have some more, and do it properly this time.”
Knowing trying to deceive Garrett again would only make him angry, Nessie took the tiniest drag she could get away with. She didn’t pass out. Thank God. Maybe she’d had some bad shit last time. This stuff seemed okay. She tried it again, sucking harder this time, and passed it back to Garrett, feeling relaxed and slightly dizzy.
A seagull flew past and soared high into the sky. She held on to the railings and followed its progress. She wanted to fly too. The sky was blue, really blue, and it was warm, hot even. Was someone talking? She couldn’t tell; the whoosh of the waves was so loud it pounded in her ears.
A hand was around her waist, and someone was kissing her neck.
Jeez, it was hot.
There were stars in the trees. She giggled. What a silly place to put stars.
So hot.
She grabbed handfuls of lace and dragged them up her thighs. Have to get this dress off. More hands helped her. Had she grown another pair? That was funny.
Her feet left the ground. Was she flying now? She wanted to fly.
She wasn’t flying.
She was on a bed.
A big, soft bed.
Where had her clothes gone? She couldn’t remember.
***
Matt studied the uniform laid out on his bed. One more wear, and that would be it. No more screaming women, and no more thinking he would be baked alive before the Velcro ripped.
He’d spent the last hour preening—a routine he’d practised to perfection. Each part of his body had been scrubbed, shaved, plucked, and oiled. On his head, every hair was gelled down, not that it mattered; he’d be keeping his hat firmly in place tonight. Tinted moisturiser, a light layer of mascara, and lip balm brought a shine to his face and a twinkle to his eye that drove the women wild. He checked the special concealer used to disguise his scar and noted that it was dry. His body was ready.
Positioning the thin piece of silver leather up his ass crack, he checked his balls were tucked firmly into the slightly padded pouch. Early days in the job had taught him that too many hands pushing notes down the elastic could lead to disaster. The fifty he’d laid out on the custom-made G-string had been totally worth it, and it hadn’t let him down yet. He put on his trousers and inspected the seams methodically. It wouldn’t do for them to come apart before it was time. His shirt came next. Designed to be a size too small, the white fabric stretched tightly over his muscles. The ladies liked that, loving nothing more than to run their hands along the contours and imagine what lay underneath, and they were never disappointed. Just the tie, the hat, and one more thing, and he was done.
Opening the drawer, he picked up the black, plastic mask. Was it enough to hide his identity? He hoped so. It was easy putting on a show for strangers, but one for his mother’s friends and his childhood sweetheart… that was another ball game entirely.
***
Nessie’s eyes drifted open. A bright light reflected off the mirror on the wall. She squinted and turned away from it, meeting Garrett’s chest. She raised her head to look at him. He was propped up on the pillows, drinking the last of the vodka.
“Hi, babe. Want some? There’re some dregs left.” He tilted the bottle towards her.
She shook her head, trying to remember how she’d ended up in bed.
“That was fun, huh?” Garrett grinned.
What was? She blinked. God, she was thirsty… and starving. She needed water. Climbing out of bed, she noticed her underwear on the floor. She was naked. Shit. She snatched her clothes from the carpet and ran into the bathroom.
“Wanna do it again?” Garrett called.
Oh God, she’d had sex with him, hadn’t she? She was a failure—a big, fat failure. Why hadn’t she stood up to him and said no to the joint? She re-dressed and splashed water on her face before sticking her head under the tap for a drink. How long had she been out? “What time is it?” she shouted.
“About seven thirty,” he answered.
Seven thirty? Wasn’t she supposed to be somewhere? Seven thirty. Seven thirty. Shit!
Flinging open the door, she screamed, “I have to get ready.”
“Where are you going?”
“My mum’s hen night. You knew that. Why didn’t you wake me?”
Garrett picked up the TV remote and began flicking through the channels. “Guess that’s a no on the sex, then.”
Chapter Nine
After a quick change of clothes, a freshen up of her make-up, and a head-to-toe spray of perfume, Nessie arrived in the lobby at precisely eight o’clock. She wished she’d had time for a shower. Being with Garrett had left her feeling dirty and used.
Her mother pounced on her as soon as the elevator doors opened. “Where’ve you been? The minibus is waiting,” she chastised.
Nessie protested that she was on time, but it didn’t stop her mother from going into a rant about Nessie’s unreliability, and she had to listen to further jibes about being an inconsiderate daughter on the journey into town.
Thankfully, the first stop was to a restaurant where Nessie wanted to eat everything on the menu, but settled for steak and a huge pile of chips, much to her mother’s disgust.
After eating, Nessie felt much better, and her mother had consumed a few glasses of wine and forgotten her anger.
By the time they reached the club, Cora was in a much cheerier mood and was ignoring Nessie entirely. Nessie preferred it that way.
Nessie looked up at the neon sign over the door. The bulb had burnt out on one of the letters, and she wondered if the venue had been booked or was a random stop. She’d been to some dives in her life, but this one was full on cheese.
A wall, completely covered in vinyl records, led them into the main ro
om where the wooden dance floor, marked with years of stiletto damage, was surrounded by a tatty carpet of no discernible colour, camouflaged by decades of spilt drinks and cigarette burns.
Diane selected a couple of free tables in front of a wall of faded black curtain lit up by purple lights.
“This looks like a good spot,” she said.
Nessie begged to disagree. She wanted to say that nowhere in the club was a good spot and perhaps they should go somewhere else, but the ladies were already getting comfortable. She watched her mother brush the seat before sitting down, and then take a tissue from her clutch bag to wipe the wet rings from the table’s surface. Typical Cora. She might be dressed like a teenager, but her actions were full on mumsy.
Ignoring the handwritten happy hour offers on the bare-brick wall behind the bar, Nessie ordered water—one loss of inhibitions was enough for the day.
Amy leaned into her shoulder and shouted over the music, “Nice place, huh?”
Nessie looked up at the ceiling of pleated fabric with fairy lights pushed through randomly torn holes. “I’m trying to decide if this place, or the hole we went to in Greece, wins the prize for biggest night-dump.”
“Well, if you’re stuck for a decider, check them out,” Amy said, nodding in the direction of the deejay stand where two men, wearing Hawaiian shirts, bobbed to the music.
“We have a winner,” Nessie shouted.
Before long, the older women were having a great time. Empty glasses accumulated across tables, and articles of clothing were abandoned on chairs as Cora’s friends persuaded her to take to the dance floor.
“Isn’t it weird seeing Mum in a nightclub?” Amy giggled, passing Nessie yet another glass of iced water.
“No weirder than seeing her with Johnny. Honestly, I don’t know who she is anymore. One minute she’s playing the high-handed mother, and the next she snogging the face off her young stud and acting as if she’s twenty again.” She studied her mother, dazzling in a silver number with a dangerously low neckline. “I mean, look at that dress. It’s indecent.”