‘Best get moving before this shower of freeloaders necks all the booze,’ Tony said then, casting a scathing glance around the already crowded club-room. ‘And what’s the chance of getting this racket turned down, ’cos I’m going to get a fuck of a headache if I have to listen to this shit all night.’
‘You’re so loud, you won’t even notice it once you get talking,’ Melody contradicted him, rolling her eyes at Jenna. ‘Nice meeting you, Jen,’ she said then. ‘But I’d best get him moving before he bores you to death. We’ll catch up later, yeah?’ Letting her gaze slide slowly over Fabian then, she said, ‘Later, Babe.’
‘Who you calling Babe?’ Tony demanded as she took his arm and tugged him through the room.
‘It’s a girl thing,’ she assured him breezily. ‘We all do it.’
‘Well, I don’t like it, so quit it.’
‘Okay, Babe.’
‘Don’t fucking push it, Mel!’
Laughing as their voices faded into the crowd, Jenna shook her head. ‘They were sweet, weren’t they?’
‘Oh, you’re good,’ Fabian drawled, folding his arms and giving her a wry smile. ‘I saw the way you stroked her little ego.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. Women like being complimented, that’s all.’
‘Yeah, I know. But other women don’t normally pull it off that good. They usually make it sound sarcastic, but even I’d have believed that you really thought she was that young.’
‘Well, if it makes her happy . . . ?’ Shrugging, Jenna glanced at her watch. ‘Right, I’ll leave you to it, if you don’t mind. I want to have a word with Jacko about replacing the doormen before it gets too late. Will you be all right by yourself?’
‘I’ll be fine,’ Fabian assured her. ‘Most of the guests are here now, anyway, so I think I’ll give the go-ahead to let the motleys in.’
‘Paying customers,’ Jenna corrected him, giving him a mock-stern look before walking away.
Narrowing his eyes, Fabian gazed after her. That was the longest he’d spent with her on a one-to-one basis since she’d taken over, and she’d surprised him. In the months following her dad’s funeral, she’d been so stressed that she hadn’t bothered with make-up, and had practically lived in her jeans. Even in that raw state she’d been a looker, but what an absolute babe she was when she made the effort. And now that she’d chilled out, she was way more approachable than he’d initially thought. And if this was the real her, he reckoned that things were definitely going to pick up around here – just so long as she didn’t start interfering. She might own the place, but he called the shots – and that was exactly how he intended to keep it.
Jacko, the head of security, was checking the fire doors on the lower floor when Jenna found him. Asking him to send some of his boys out to replace Bobby and Flex, she went to the bar and called Maurice over to ask if he’d remembered to send a drink up to Vibes.
Giving her a defiant why-are-you-bothering-me-with-this-nonsense look, Maurice said, ‘Who?’
‘The DJ,’ Jenna reminded him, knowing full well that he knew exactly who she was talking about.
‘Oh, him,’ Maurice replied dismissively, already turning away. ‘No. I forgot.’
Biting down on her irritation, Jenna called out firmly, ‘Two glasses of champagne, please, Maurice.’
She saw the slight tensing of his shoulders, and guessed – rightly – that he was dying to tell her to piss off and get it herself. But if he thought she was going to roll over and let him disrespect her, he had another think coming.
Thanking him when he placed the drinks on the counter, Jenna nodded towards a small pile of broken glass in the corner beside the fridge.
‘Clean that up before somebody slips on it, would you?’
Nostrils twitching, Maurice pursed his lips and glared at her.
Raising an eyebrow when several seconds had passed and he still hadn’t moved, Jenna said, ‘You do know where the dustpan is, don’t you? Only I’d like you to do it now, before somebody cuts themselves and sues me for negligence.’
Giving a triumphant small smile when Maurice reached under the counter for the hand-brush, she picked up the glasses and walked away. She didn’t want to add insult to injury by standing over him while he did it, but he’d needed to be put in his place – even if it had made her legs feel like jelly.
God, it was hard running your own business. But kind of fun once you got into the swing of it.
Carrying the champagne carefully up the narrow stairs to the DJ’s booth, Jenna tapped on the door and let herself in. Vibes was leaning over the console, bobbing his head to the beat in his headphones. He smiled when he saw her, his teeth dazzling in the fluorescent lights pulsing through the window.
‘Hope I’m not disturbing you,’ she whispered, conscious of the microphone. ‘But I thought you must need a drink by now?’
Taking the headphones off, Vibes nodded towards a case of bottled water on the ledge behind her.
‘I tend to stick to that when I’m working. But I’ll make an exception, seeing as it’s New Year.’ Taking one of the glasses, he raised it. ‘Hope it’s a good one, Princess.’
‘Me, too.’ Clinking her glass against his, Jenna took a sip. The heat in the small room enveloped her like a damp blanket. ‘God, it’s boiling in here,’ she said, fanning a hand in front of her face. ‘How do you stand it?’
‘It’s the equipment,’ Vibes told her, wiping his brow on the fluffy white towel looped around his neck. ‘There’s nothing you can do about it, so you just get used to it.’
Shivering as a bead of sweat trickled down her back, Jenna said, ‘Do you want me to get you a fan?’
‘Nah.’ Vibes shook his head. ‘They just stir it up and make you feel sick. And they’re noisy as all hell, which don’t sound too good over the mike. But thanks for the thought.’
‘Let me know if you change your mind,’ Jenna said, taking another sip of her drink. Gazing out at the rapturous faces on the dance floor below, she said, ‘I don’t think I’ve ever been to a club before where everyone’s dancing before they’re even half drunk. I guess you must be as good as they say, huh?’
‘Why, thank you, kind lady.’ Vibes gave her a playful grin. ‘Does that mean I get a raise?’
‘Please say you’re joking,’ she groaned, gripping her glass a little tighter.
Jenna wasn’t even paying herself yet – and probably wouldn’t be able to for some time to come, because she was up to her neck with bank-loan repayments and the rent on her apartment. But she couldn’t afford to lose Vibes. Fabian had told her that great DJs were stars in their own right, and that their fans followed them to whichever club they were playing at. She was lucky that Vibes had agreed to come back after she’d effectively laid him off for the four months it had taken to refurbish Zenith, but if she lost him now she’d probably lose most of her customers, too.
Seeing the fear in her eyes, Vibes quickly assured her that he was joking – and wondered, not for the first time, if her skin was as soft to the touch as it looked.
Shaking the thought away, he reminded himself that there was no point thinking like that. Jenna was sweet, gorgeous, and intelligent – and not in the least bit flirtatious, unlike most of the British women he’d met so far. He didn’t know if it was the American accent that they got off on, or just that they had never seen a black guy with blue eyes before, but he’d been inundated with phone numbers and blatant propositions since coming over here. And while he would have lapped the attention up a few years back, now it just turned him off.
Taking the hint when he finished his drink and reached for his headphones, Jenna picked up his glass and said, ‘I suppose I should get back out there and mingle. Can’t hide away up here all night, can I? See you later.’
‘Later, Princess,’ Vibes said, pulling the headphones down over his ears and flipping the mike on to introduce the next track.
Jenna was smiling as she went back down the stairs. She li
ked Vibes. He was polite, gentlemanly, and really easy to be around – and to look at, of course. The perfect man, in fact. Now if only she could find one like him for herself, she’d be laughing.
But decent single men were as hard to find as great DJs, in her experience. And you couldn’t just take their word for it when you did find one – as she had learned to her cost with Jason.
But there was no point raking over those old coals. What was done was done, and she just had to make sure that she never made the same mistake again.
3
The party was in full swing by two; everybody buzzing as they soaked up the booze and lost their inhibitions.
Great for the club, but not so good for Fabian, who had managed to get himself hijacked by a group of frisky older women. He’d tried to get away, but they seemed intent on holding him hostage on the dance floor, and every time one let go of his hand another one snatched it up.
The one he was with now was actually making him feel ill, rubbing her saggy breasts against him and winking at him seductively. Convinced that she was just waiting for the chance to go in for a full-on snog, he broke free after their third dance and lied that he’d just been summoned by his boss from across the room.
Escorting the woman back to her table, it was all Fabian could do not to scream when one of the friends grabbed him and said, ‘Me next. Don’t you go and forget about me, now.’
Promising to come right back as soon as he could, he rushed to the safety of his office, wondering what the hell the old witches were doing here, anyway. They weren’t on the guest list, so they must have paid to get in. But surely they should be tucked up in bed with their cocoas by now, not out on the town flirting with men young enough to be their great-grandsons!
Locking the door in case anybody walked in on him, he opened his wall safe and took out a small bag of coke. Chopping a thin line on the mirror, he snorted it quickly and leaned his head back to savour the instant tension-easing buzz.
Sorted, Fabian put everything away and headed back down to the club floor with a fresh swagger in his step. Pretending that he hadn’t seen the old biddies when they started waving their bingo wings at him, he headed on up to the VIP lounge to give his celebrity friends a dose of the King treatment.
Sitting at her table, surrounded by some of the brightest stars of British stage and screen, Melody should have been in her element. She wasn’t happy though – as they would have known if they’d bothered to look at her. But none of them had bothered, which was precisely why she was so pissed off. It wasn’t like she expected to be the centre of attention or anything, but there was no excuse for people being so rude as to totally ignore her.
She blamed Tony.
Ever since they’d landed two weeks ago, they couldn’t go anywhere without people falling all over themselves to talk to him. And once they did, they were hooked. He’d had so many invitations to parties since they’d got here, it wasn’t even funny. Everyone in Manchester seemed to think he was some kind of big shot and wanted to be his new best friend, and that really peeved Melody, because he was nothing but a big-talking hood who liked to splash the cash. Whereas she had two hit movies on her CV – and many more to come, if the critics who had been calling her America’s Next Big Thing were right.
Melody had been so pleased when the invitation for tonight’s party had arrived at the hotel in her name; thrilled that at last somebody had realised she was alive and kicking in Tony’s shadow. But the thrill hadn’t lasted long once they’d got here, because Tony only had to open that big mouth of his for the spotlight to turn firmly his way.
Brenda Thompson had been the first to invite herself to join them. She’d sailed up to their table, almost knocking Melody clean off her chair in her effort to squeeze herself in beside Tony.
‘Don’t mind if I join you, do you?’ she’d asked, in the breathy rasp that Melody had spent hours copying as a teenager. ‘But I simply had to meet the man behind that wonderfully evocative accent. New York – am I right?’
For a very brief moment, Melody had been thrilled to be in the presence of her long-time acting idol. But that had soon changed when she’d tried to join in the conversation and received the frosty raising of a pencil-thin eyebrow and a turned back in return. She was so offended that she nearly lamped the old cow!
And her mood hadn’t improved when two bitches from a top soap came along and proceeded to air-kiss their ‘good pal’ Brenda and suck up to Tony, while looking down their noses at Melody. Followed by some ugly old Lovie-Dahling actor who was more plastic than Cher, and his personal assistant, Clive. Like Clive wasn’t his boyfriend – much!
Chase Mann was the last straw. Despite slagging him off when they’d seen him at the hotel a couple of days back, Tony had greeted him like a long-lost mate tonight. Melody hadn’t minded at first, because she’d thought that Chase would at least talk to her, given that they were closer in age and attractiveness than the rest of these idiots. But he was so stoned that he’d barely even glanced at her. And the tarty little slappers who were sticking to him like gold-digging leeches wound her up by giggling and whispering behind their hands whenever they looked at her.
Shifting irritably in her chair now, Melody glared at Tony, but he was too busy telling jokes to notice. So she gazed down at the crowded dance floor instead, toying with the idea of grabbing a good-looking man and dragging him off to the toilets for a revenge fuck. Tony would notice that, she was sure.
Yeah, and then he’d kill me – stone, no messing dead! These people might think he was a charming teddy bear of a man, but Melody knew exactly what he was capable of.
Sighing loudly, she snatched up one of the champagne bottles that were cluttering the table and poured herself a large glassful. She might as well get hammered if she had to sit here listening to Tony’s boring stories all night, and watching these shitty never-really-weres laughing their facelifts off. Boring, boring, boring!
Fabian arrived at that exact moment.
‘How’s everyone doing?’ he asked loudly, a big smile on his handsome face.
‘Having a blast,’ Tony grunted, giving him the cold eye. Glancing past him then, he frowned. ‘Where’s the boss lady?’
‘She’ll come and say hello as soon as she gets a chance,’ Fabian assured him. ‘Anything I can do in the meantime?’
‘Nah, don’t trouble yourself.’
Narrowing his eyes slightly, Fabian said, ‘Right, well, I’ll leave you to it, then.’ And I hope you choke on your free champagne, you dismissive cunt!
‘Just a minute,’ Brenda Thompson called out huskily as he started to back away. Picking up her gift pack, she dangled it off the tip of her finger. ‘Are you responsible for this?’
‘Er, yes,’ Fabian admitted. ‘Is there a problem?’
‘Oh, no, it’s delightful,’ she purred, reaching for his hand and pulling him towards her. ‘I just adore the lighter,’ she said then, gazing seductively into his eyes. ‘And the perfume smells divine. But I was wondering . . .’
Peering at Fabian when he dipped his head to listen to whatever Brenda was saying, Melody felt a sickening tug in her gut when she noticed the fine white traces under his nose. Coke! Oh, God, what she wouldn’t give to get her hands on some of that right now. But there was no chance of that with Tony keeping tabs on her. According to Mr Big Shot, ‘Ladies don’t touch that shit.’
‘What’s up with your mush?’ Tony asked out of the corner of his mouth, making her jump.
‘Nothing,’ Melody snapped, pushing her chair back with a dull scrape. ‘I’m just fed up of all this yakking, that’s all. I’m off for a dance.’
‘Not on your own, you’re not,’ he hissed, gripping her wrist.
‘Come with me, then,’ she hissed back, knowing full well that he wouldn’t.
Flashing her a warning glare, he said, ‘You know I don’t go for all that jiggy-jiggy shit. But I ain’t letting you loose with all them chancers down there, so forget it.’
‘Wha
t . . . so, now you don’t trust me?’
‘Sure I do. But you’ve had too much to drink, and I don’t trust them. Eddie’ll go with you.’
‘Oh, come on,’ Melody moaned, glancing at Eddie who had been leaning against the wall behind Tony all night. ‘He’ll scare everyone off the dance floor. Have you seen the way he’s looking at people – like he wants to skin them and eat them.’
‘Well, you ain’t going alone,’ Tony said flatly. ‘Take it or leave it.’
‘What about him?’ She nodded in Fabian’s direction.
‘You putting me on?’ Tony frowned darkly.
‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ Melody tutted softly. ‘He’s gay, you big idiot. Can’t you tell? Look at his hair. And the way he talks.’
Tony peered at Fabian for a moment and decided that he did look kind of effeminate.
‘Yeah, you could be right,’ he conceded. ‘Okay, you can go with him – but no funny business.’
‘What, like getting him to give me make-up tips?’ Melody sneered.
‘You know what I mean.’ Giving her a hooded look, Tony turned to Fabian and clicked his fingers. ‘Yo! A word.’
Extracting himself from Brenda’s clutches, Fabian said, ‘What can I do for you, Mr Allen?’
‘She wants to dance.’ Tony jerked his head at Melody. ‘But she’s loaded, so I want you to go with her and make sure she don’t get mauled by none of them cunts down there.’ Pausing, he sent a clear message with his eyes as he added, ‘Wouldn’t wanna spoil the night having to warn anyone off – you get me?’
‘Got you.’ Fabian agreed, feeling the coke buzz turn into a sharp stab of paranoia. ‘I’ll see she gets back in one piece.’
‘You do that.’ Grinning darkly, Tony reached up and patted his cheek none too gently.
‘Come on, then,’ Melody snapped, looking at Fabian as if she’d rather be swimming with sharks than about to dance with him.
The Club Page 5