Parisian Nights

by Louise Bay

  “Well, I have no intention of licking him anywhere. You guys are gross,” I said as I got up and headed over to the kitchen. “No kissing while I turn my back for five seconds to get more booze.”

  “Okay, we’ll skip straight to the sex,” Ash called after me.

  Ash and Luke started to argue about which film to put on. I was still thinking about my tongue trailing down Harry’s chest.

  My phone vibrating interrupted my inappropriate thought, and my mouth went dry when I saw it was a text from Harry. Shit. That was a coincidence.

  Harry: Sorry, can’t do Monday. Will have to rearrange or go without me.

  What a fucker. Just when I thought he was a half-decent guy he went and pulled a stunt like that. I tossed my phone onto the table and Luke and Ash snapped their heads toward me.

  “It’s nothing. Someone at work being a wanker.”

  “Was it Licky Harry?” Ash asked.

  I threw a napkin at her. “You’re gross.”

  “Come on, Rapunzel, let down your golden hair and pour out the shots,” Ash said.

  The call of tequila. Something I could never resist.

  “Can I play with it?” she asked as I started pouring out too-full shot glasses.

  “You are a freak,” I said. “Luke, you’re never to marry this girl, do you hear me?”

  “Have you both forgotten that I’m living with Emma?”

  “She’s just a phase,” Ash and I said in unison and then collapsed into laughter. Emma was okay, but I honestly couldn’t see him with her forever. She didn’t laugh enough. She didn’t make Luke laugh enough, and it always seemed to be him who was making all the compromises. I wanted my brother to be happy, and I wasn’t sure he was.

  “If you don’t want me to play with it, perhaps you could have it cut and make a wig and I could have that?” Ash asked.

  “You’re not playing with my hair and I’m not having it cut, you weirdo.”

  “I’m not weird, you know I’ve always wanted your Rapunzel-like hair.”

  Jake

  I was pretty sure Haven would be mad at me for cancelling the Monday trip to the studio, but there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t miss this follow-up meeting with Hal. Robert was fine with me setting my own hours, and Haven could go on her own. I didn’t need to be there every time she went, although she hadn’t exactly hit it off with Sandy. Or anyone, apparently.

  “Are you okay? You’re frowning,” Beth said.

  “Yeah, I’ve had to cancel on Haven on Monday because Hal wants me to meet with his corporate finance guy.”

  “Haven’s the uptight one who’s writing the story on Sandy?”

  I nodded. “I think she’ll struggle with Sandy on her own.”

  “You’re a good man, Jake.”

  “Hardly. I’m letting her down.”

  “Yeah, but at least you have the decency to feel bad about it.” Beth laughed, and I grinned at her.

  “I’m not sure that counts, but thanks for your faith. I better get going or I’m going to be late for my date with Millie, and I’ll have another woman mad at me.” I scanned the room for my keys and wallet.

  “Well that’s no bad thing as far as I’m concerned.”

  “Millie isn’t as awful as you think. You just caught her on the spot.”

  “Whatever. I can smell a gold digger when I see one.” Beth was very protective of me.

  “You think all women are after my money.”

  “That’s because they are.”

  “Maybe it’s my big dick,” I said, grinning at my sister.

  “You’re gross. Get out.”

  “I’m going. Don’t wait up.” I leaned over the sofa and kissed her on the head. She swatted me away.

  Sure enough, Millie texted me to check if I had left before I’d had a chance to get out of the building. When I arrived at her place, she opened the front door as soon as I knocked, as if she was standing behind it, waiting.

  “Hey, you look beautiful,” I told her. She always looked good. We’d been dating about three months, and I’d never seen her anything other than fully made up with a new outfit on or naked.

  She smiled at me. “Thanks. I do try for you. So where are you taking me?”

  “It’s a surprise,” I replied as I opened the car door for her.

  I might be still living in the flat I was in when I was a student, but I’d upgraded my car. I had two in fact. An Aston Martin DB9 for nights like this and then a run-around Golf.

  As I rounded the hood to take the driver’s side, I glanced back at her. She suited the car perfectly, as if she’d been made for it. No one could deny she was beautiful, and she was good in bed. A surprisingly rare combination in a woman, I’d come to realize. She was the kind of girl that made other guys jealous—not that that was my intention, it was just a fact. But it came at a price. She liked the finer things in life, and there was no chance of us kicking back on the sofa on a Saturday night, or a long walk and lunch in a pub on Sunday. Millie was all about high-end glamour. She made me work for it, but I was okay with that. I liked to work for things that were worth it.

  “Chiltern Firehouse sound okay?”

  It was a good compromise. Relaxed enough that I could wear jeans but full of enough designer-clad celebrities to keep Millie happy.

  The twitching at the corners of her mouth suggested she was trying to hide a shit-eating grin.

  “What would you like to drink?” I asked her as we arrived at the bar adjoining the restaurant.

  “Something bubbly,” she replied.

  Of course. I ordered a beer and a glass of champagne. “So how have you kept yourself busy today?” I asked in an attempt to stop her obviously scanning for celebrities.

  “I went to the spa with Cissy, and then we went shopping.” She smiled at me. “Underwear shopping,” she whispered. “You deserve a reward for getting a table here.”

  Normally a comment like that from her would create a dozen mental pictures of Millie in various states of undress and a distinct stirring in my trousers. For some reason, I didn’t feel anything.

  “Come on, let’s get seated if you’re so keen,” I said and guided her through to the restaurant, my hand low on her back.

  The waiter led us to our table and handed us our menus. I wasn’t sure what the fuss was about. It seemed like a hundred restaurants I’d been to before. I’d been given a token for some private members’ club for after dinner, but I’d decided not to tell Millie about that yet.

  “Was it what you expected?” I asked her, glancing round again.

  “Yes. I mean, if it’s good enough for Orlando Bloom and Victoria Beckham then it’s good enough for me.”

  I smiled at her. I was glad she was pleased.

  I turned my attention to the menu. I grinned when I noticed one of the starters was a soft-poached egg. “What’s your favorite food?”

  She stared at me and her eyebrows knitted together. “What?”

  “Your favorite food, what is it?”

  “I’ve never thought about it. Caviar? Why? Have you arranged for us to have some?”

  My heart sank, and I shook my head. I wondered if she liked caviar or if she liked it because that was what she was supposed to like. I wondered if I really liked Millie, or if I was dating her because she was the kind of woman I was supposed to date.

  “Apparently there’s a super-exclusive private members’ club at the back that some customers get invited to join,” she said.

  “Really?” I feigned ignorance.

  “Getting in there would mean I would give you free entry anywhere, if you get my meaning.”

  Was she offering me anal sex if I got her into a nightclub? My appetite died. I’d always understood our relationship was a transaction of sorts, but it had never been in such sharp focus for me.

  “Another night,” I said.

  I signed the bill and felt relieved. I hadn’t enjoyed the evening. Being with Millie had made me feel uncomfortable.

 
As we headed out, I caught her doing a final scan of the restaurant. “Disappointed you didn’t see any celebrities?”

  “Maybe a little,” she said. “But it’s a good excuse to come back. Now let’s get back to mine, so I can thank you properly.”

  We made our way toward the car and she reached for my hand. I didn’t resist her.

  “Jesus, are they wearing pajamas?” she asked, pointing at two girls coming in our direction, huddled up in coats that didn’t quite hide the pastel-colored leggings beneath. They were laughing merrily, then stopped beside my car as one of them finished what they were saying and they both burst into another round of laughter. I couldn’t help but smile at them. They were having their own private party.

  “They’re going to scratch your car,” Millie warned.

  Something about one of them seemed familiar. I stepped forward, trying to see better. “Haven?” I asked. The girl on the right looked like her, but I’d never seen Haven with her hair down, so perhaps I’d got it wrong.

  “Haven?” I asked again, surer this time.

  I was close enough to have both their attention, and it was most certainly Haven. Haven with her hair down. Haven far from sober. She stood stock-still and put her hand over her mouth.

  “I thought that was you,” I said when she didn’t say anything. Her friend was shaking her shoulder.

  We were a couple of feet apart. Millie had gone round to the passenger side of the car, and I was on the sidewalk with Haven.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  Her friend answered for her. “Yes, thanks, handsome, we’re just a little drunk, but it’s alright because soon we’ll be a lot drunk.” She thrust a bottle of wine in the air.

  Haven laughed again.

  “It’s Licky,” Haven said to her friend, not taking her eyes from me and pointing in my direction.

  “It’s what?” I asked. I didn’t understand what she’d said.

  “What? Oh!” Her friend squealed. “Do you guys work together?” she asked.

  “I’m Harry. Yes, I’m at Rallegra with Haven.” I held out my hand, and she shook it in an exaggerated greeting.

  “This is Millie,” I said, pointing across the roof of the car, trying to be polite. Millie grimaced.

  Haven threw her head back and laughed. “Don’t tell me that’s your car.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “You’re such a fucking cliché, Harry.”

  I winced slightly. Most of the time I loved my car, but every now and then it felt as if I shouldn’t own it. Cars like that weren’t meant to be owned by a cop’s kid from Chicago. Haven’s reaction was like salt in that particular wound.

  “A hot cliché, though,” her friend said.

  They both started laughing again. I could count on the fingers of one hand how many times I’d seen Haven smile, let alone laugh. Drunk Haven seemed much more fun than uptight, work Haven. The laugh brought her to life, and she became all the more beautiful.

  “Bye, Millie,” Haven shouted as she ran off down the road, her friend trailing behind as I watched.

  “Baby, can you get me in this fucking car? I’m freezing,” Millie said. “Do you know those girls?”

  I nodded and smiled as I unlocked the car. “I know the one with the long blonde hair.”

  “If that’s what working does to you, I’m pleased I don’t do it.”

  I cringed at her reaction. Despite all the effort that Millie had gone to tonight with her appearance, Haven in her pajamas, laughing with windswept hair, trumped her hands down. The night was nearly over, and so were we. I couldn’t understand how we’d been dating for three months. We had nothing in common. I wouldn’t tell her tonight. I’d wait until she was sober.

  Seeing Millie and Haven together, right in front of me, made my feelings or lack thereof for Millie more pronounced. I realized I liked verbally sparring with Haven more than I liked having sex with Millie.

  Five

  Haven

  I had the god of all hangovers. I could tell without even opening my eyes. I turned over and came face-to-face with a snoring Ash. I pushed my palm against her face. “Get away from me if you’re going to sleep.”

  Ash opened her eyes and grinned at me.

  “You fucker. Were you trying to wake me up by fake-snoring?” I asked.

  “You fall for it every time, Rapunzel,” she replied.

  “You are evil. I can’t believe how much we drank last night.” I lay on my back, ready to dissect the night before, as we’d done a million times. And then it came back to me. “Oh. My. God.” I sat bolt upright, and my brain knocked against my skull. I grasped my head to soothe the pain. “Shit, we bumped into Harry last night!” My stomach churned, and I wasn’t sure if it was my half memory of seeing Harry or the twenty-nine bottles of wine I had consumed last night.

  “Yes, we did.” Ash giggled. “You referred to him as Licky, as I remember.”

  I slumped back down into the mattress. “Kill me now. I’m going to have to resign,” I said. How embarrassing.

  “Well, as long as you’re not overreacting. That’s the main thing.”

  I didn’t think I was overreacting at all. Harry might have seen bitchy Haven, but that was professional compared to drunk, out-of-control Haven. “We were wearing our pajamas. Of course I’ll have to resign.” Just as our working relationship had improved, now he was going to think I was such an idiot. I wanted him to see that I was good at my job, not some silly, drunk girl who wandered around London giggling in her pajamas. I covered my eyes with the palms of my hands.

  “It was the only way you’d come with me to replenish the wine supplies,” Ash said.

  “What, if we went in our pajamas?”

  She nodded.

  “Oh God. What must he think of me?”

  “Why do you care? I’m sure his girlfriend fucked his brains out last night, so he won’t remember anything this morning. Don’t worry about it.”

  My stomach flipped at the thought of him with Millie or whatever her name was. She was so beautiful it almost hurt to think about her. I thought women like her only existed in magazines. “I can’t believe you’re a medical professional, coming up with theories like that. I’m not sure that’s how human biology works. She was a total glamazon, wasn’t she?”

  Ash laughed. “Yes, but probably crap in bed. Those model types always are. It’s girls like you and me that have it going on in the bedroom.”

  “Is this the moment in time to point out the fact that you and I shared a bed last night, and that I’m wearing pajamas with flying pigs all over them?”

  “Nope,” Ash replied.

  “Yeah, didn’t think so.”

  Luke came into the room carrying a tray of tea.

  “You are my hero,” Ash said, beaming. “Promise me you won’t stop making me tea when we’re married. You’ve got to work to keep the magic alive.”

  Luke rolled his eyes. “In this fictitious scenario where we’re married and I’m bringing you tea to cure your hangover, will you still share my sister’s bed?”

  “Absolutely. I’ll still make you earn my physical affection. And I will demand that she sleeps over every Saturday night. Licky can come too, if he wants.”

  “Ash, that’s gross. I don’t want to hear any more about you and my brother.”

  I leaned over to the nightstand to retrieve my phone as Luke plonked himself at the end of the bed.

  “Oh, my God,” I said, reading a text from Harry.

  Harry: I was right about you with your hair down. It looks good.

  My belly twisted, and I started to chew the inside of my mouth. I wasn’t sure what to make of his comment. I was embarrassed to find that I hoped he was being genuine. I wanted him to think my hair looked nice down, but it hadn’t—I’d had drunk-girl-in-pajamas hair.

  “What?” Ash asked.

  “Nothing. My bank balance. Horrifying.” I didn’t want to tell her and have her say she thought he was being sarcastic. If I kept it t
o myself, it could be real.

  There were two texts after the first.

  Harry: Can you let me know you got home safely?

  Harry: Haven, seriously, let me know you’re not in a ditch.

  All three had been sent last night. Before or after he was having his brains fucked out, I wondered. I turned away from Luke and Ash. I didn’t want them to see my grin spilling out as I replied. I liked that he was worried for me and that he was kind enough not to mention my pajamas. I quickly typed out a response.

  Haven: Not in a ditch.

  “I have to get in the shower. I feel like I slept with a tramp last night,” I said, leaving Luke and Ash to their flirting.

  I pulled my phone from my bag to text Harry. He hadn’t replied to my text yesterday, but I hadn’t expected him to. Now, I needed to be back in work mode.

  Haven: I’ll rearrange our next set visit. Can you let me know when you will next grace us with your presence?

  I tried to immerse myself in the Sandy research, to get my head in the game, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Harry’s texts to me over the weekend and our conversations the previous week. I was like a teenager, playing it over and over in my head. It was embarrassing to admit, even to myself, but I liked the attention. He was different. He didn’t take my bullshit, but he cared enough to call me on it. Millie, from what I remembered of her, was exactly who I would put with someone like him. Tall, beautiful, head-to-toe designer everything. I would have to run into him dressed in pajamas. How mortifying. And as if I didn’t have enough to be embarrassed about, I’d actually called him Licky.

  I kept checking my phone, but no reply. He was clearly doing something far more important than worrying about his day job. Or texting me.

  It was gone seven when he finally texted back.

  Harry: Sorry, busy day. I’m around Thursday and Friday if that works. Glad you’re not in a ditch.

  I grinned and set about making the arrangements for later in the week.

  I arrived at the studios almost half an hour before Harry and I had agreed to meet in the parking lot. I hadn’t wanted to leave the engine running, so I was gradually getting colder and colder in the car. I’d resorted to covering myself with a blanket that Luke made me keep on the back seat for emergencies. I’d closed my eyes for only a second when tapping on the window jolted me awake.