by Jade Winters
‘Do you still live at home?’
Skye took a long sip of her Coke before replying. ‘I … um … no, I live with my aunt.’
‘Where’re your parents?’
Skye glanced around the restaurant.
‘My parents? Oh, my dad’s dead.’ There was a hitch in her voice.
‘I’m sorry to hear that.’
‘And my mum lives abroad.’ Bringing her gaze back to Morgan, Skye said, ‘Spain, yeah, she lives in a villa in Spain.’
Not wanting to speak about a deceased parent wasn’t unusual—it wasn’t exactly a feel-good topic—but holiday destinations were.
‘Spain’s one of my favourite destinations. Whereabouts is your mum?’
‘Um … Menorca.’
‘Nice. Do you see her much?’
‘No, she doesn’t like coming back here. She thinks it’s too cold. And I don’t get that much time off work to go travelling.’
‘Here we are,’ the waiter said as he approached their table, holding two plates of food. He laid the plates gently before them.
‘Can I get you anything else?’ he asked.
‘No, thank you,’ the women said in unison.
‘Enjoy,’ he said, backing away.
‘Oh, this looks delicious,’ Skye said excitedly and started to eat.
For the next hour, while the women ate, they made small talk about London, sightseeing and the things Skye wanted to do for the remainder of her visit. They spoke about their dreams and visions for the future, and by the time they were drinking after dinner coffee, they were completely comfortable in each other’s company.
‘Look, Skye,’ Morgan said. She had to broach the subject of her singing at the club again, knowing Skye’s ambition in life was to sing. This time, she hoped Skye might open up to her. ‘I know you turned down my offer, but I think you should at least think about it some more?’
‘I—’
Morgan held up a hand. ‘I’m sure whatever the problem is back home, we can fix it.’
For some reason, Morgan didn’t want her to leave London. Or me.
Skye had somehow slipped under her skin, and the thought of never seeing her again was not even worth thinking about.
Skye lowered her gaze to the pristine white tablecloth. ‘It’s not as simple as that, Morgan.’
‘I’m quite a good problem solver. Run it by me.’
Morgan could only hope it was something solvable in practicable terms and had nothing to do with affairs of the heart. Skye was single at present, but an ex-love could still be casting a dark shadow on her life.
‘Thank you, but seriously, there’s nothing you can do.’
Relenting, Morgan leant back in her chair. She’d let it go tonight, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t keep trying to change her mind in the days ahead.
‘Okay. I’m always here if you change your mind, but I hope you won’t be a stranger for the rest of your stay.’
‘No way. You’re definitely one of London’s hottest attractions …’ Skye blushed.
Morgan couldn’t help but think about how warm Skye’s skin would feel beneath her hands, but she was jarred from the contemplation when Skye added, ‘I mean your club is.’
‘Oh, and there I was feeling flattered,’ Morgan said in mock indignation.
‘You should. That compliment extends to you as well.’
This time Morgan wouldn’t put her foot in it. She would make sure her intentions were clear.
‘In that case.’ She let her gaze roam over Skye’s face before settling on her mouth. ‘I definitely look forward to seeing you again.’
A sudden dazzling smile lit Skye's face. ‘Oh, you will, believe me. You’ll be sick of my presence by the end of the week.’
‘I doubt it.’
Morgan ignored the vibration of a text message in her jacket. She knew if she looked at it, the night would come to a premature end. She wanted to spend as much time with Skye as she possibly could, wrapped up in their cosy cocoon where nothing else mattered, but when the phone started to ring, Morgan had no choice but to answer it.
‘Sorry to interrupt you love birds, but you have a visitor,’ Chanel said.
Morgan groaned inwardly. ‘Who is it?’
‘Maggie. She’s doing my head in, demanding to know where you are. Please come back and save my sanity.’
Oh shit. This is all I need. ‘Okay, I’ll leave in a minute.’
Skye had already started slipping her coat on, and Morgan let out a soft sigh. ‘I’ve really enjoyed myself tonight.’
‘Me too.’
Morgan was sure she heard a trace of regret in her voice. Next time, turn your bloody phone off.
She stood and followed Skye to the exit after paying the bill. Once outside, Skye reached over and kissed Morgan on the cheek. ‘Thank you for a lovely evening.’
Automatically, Morgan touched the spot where Skye’s warm lips had been only seconds ago. ‘So I haven’t scared you off then?’
Skye looped her arm through Morgan’s as they walked to the taxi. ‘I couldn’t imagine you doing anything that would scare me.’
Morgan’s step faltered at Skye’s words. She hoped they wouldn’t come back to haunt her anytime soon.
If everything goes to plan, they shouldn’t, and Skye will be none the wiser.
Chapter Thirteen
Skye never knew such happiness was possible. Tonight, no shadows crossed her heart, no anxiety circled in the pit of her stomach. Instead, a warm glow flowed through her. An inexplicable contentment, alien to Skye, settled within her as she trailed behind Morgan into the club.
The evening had gone well as far as she was concerned, even if it had started off a bit edgy when they’d first arrived at the restaurant. Not telling Morgan the truth about her father after Morgan had bared her soul to her was cowardly, but she couldn’t see what good it would have done.
But you didn’t have to lie and say he was dead, did you?
She didn’t know why she’d said that. The words had found their way out, and before she had the chance to retract them, Morgan had shown her too much sympathy. Was it a Freudian slip? Skye grimaced. No point in having regrets now that the horse had bolted. She didn’t want anything to bring her down from her amazing high. The future suddenly looked tantalizing. Who knew what would happen between now and Friday, when she’d be returning home? The thought of going back to that life depressed her, as if she’d been kept in the dark and someone had flipped a switch, showing her all the things she’d been missing out on.
As they reached the top floor and walked into the bar, Skye did a double take like she was seeing the club for the first time. Admittedly, the previous night, she and Izzy had been a little worse for wear by the time they’d hit Harrington’s. Her gaze roamed the room. The décor had an uncanny resemblance to the club in her fantasies, including a crimson, velvet curtain hanging over the stage. The young crowd was drinking and cheering as a woman in a low-cut dress sang zealously on stage.
Morgan jerked her head towards a secluded area in the corner. ‘Looks like your friend’s got her hands full.’
Skye followed her gaze, and her eyes fell upon Izzy snogging the man with the big thighs.
‘Looks like she’s found her Prince Charming,’ Skye said dreamily. Having a passionate kiss with Morgan would be the perfect end to this perfect evening.
‘See, I was right about you.’
Skye tilted her head. ‘How’s that?’
‘I’m talking about you looking all starry-eyed at those two. I suppose you believe in love at first sight and—’
‘Don’t you?’ Skye held her gaze.
Morgan frowned as she stared right back. ‘I … I don’t know.’
‘Believe me, you’d know.’ Skye smiled to hide her disappointment at Morgan’s reaction. The second she’d laid eyes on Morgan, she’d known it wasn’t just a normal attraction. Skye had stupidly thought that Morgan had felt the same connection between them.
Ob
viously, I made a mistake. Or Morgan is just toying with me so I’ll sing in her club. All the confusion could have been avoided had she asked Morgan her own set of questions instead of letting her steer the conversation. I should have asked her outright if she was single! I’m such an idiot. Now I definitely need a drink.
Feeling like a love-struck teenager who’d been told her crush wasn’t reciprocated, Skye was about to thank Morgan for the meal again then slink into the darkness, when a high-pitched voice announced out of nowhere, ‘Morgan, darling!’
Their heads turned in the direction of the woman hurrying to Morgan’s side. She wrapped her hand around Morgan’s waist and pulled her tightly against her in a manner Skye thought was overly familiar.
‘Maggie,’ Morgan said, drawing back awkwardly. ‘This is a surprise.’
‘A good one, I hope. My contract finished a week early.’ Maggie gave an exaggerated pout like a child. ‘It’s been months. You could at least look happy to see me.’
‘I am,’ Morgan said. She glanced at Skye as if remembering she was still there.
Skye’s stomach knotted when she noticed how attractive Maggie was, with her long flowing hair, and how well suited they were, both sophisticated women of the world.
Unlike me. Her hope vanished when she realised that with her charm and status, Morgan could have any woman she wanted.
‘Skye, this is my good friend, Maggie. Maggie, Skye.’
The woman turned to her. ‘Hi, Skye.’
Her words were okay, but her tone was all wrong. Before Maggie could hide it, Skye saw a flash of jealousy in her eyes and took a step backwards. The last thing she wanted was to be treading on anyone’s toes. If Morgan was taken, so be it. There were plenty more women out there. But none of them are Morgan.
‘Nice to meet you, Maggie,’ she said politely, then turned to Morgan. ‘Thanks again for this evening. I guess I’ll see you around.’
Skye couldn’t read Morgan’s expression. Was she sad, or relieved that her ‘friend’ was back? Confused, Skye walked to the bar and ordered herself the strongest cocktail on the list. She glanced over at Izzy and her beau and, deciding they wouldn’t be parting lips any time soon, she quickly downed her drink and ordered another to take with her. She’d enjoy the night by herself, watching people singing Karaoke.
Finding the last available table by the DJ’s booth, Skye averted her gaze when the DJ beckoned for her to join him. She let out a long groan when she caught sight of him leaving his booth and heading directly towards her.
‘Hey, Adele imposter,’ he said with a smirk. ‘I need to call in a big favour.’
‘From me?’
‘Yes, from you. I let you jump the queue yesterday—’
‘And I was very grateful, from what I can remember.’
‘And very good. That’s why I need you to get up there and do it again.’
‘Right now?’ Morgan answered.
‘Yes, right now. These people are killing my gig. Punters aren’t gonna stick around if they’re listening to the cat’s choir. Come on, what do you say? Help me out. Pretty please.’
Without warning, the DJ pulled Skye to her feet and led her to the stage stairs. Too bewildered to protest, Skye took each step as if she were heading to the gallows.
‘Do you know “Ain’t No Man” by Christina Aguilera?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good,’ the DJ said then rushed back to his booth.
‘Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,’ the DJ bellowed warmly. ‘We’ve got a very special treat for you tonight. Harrington’s latest rising star is here to blow your mind with a special rendition of a hit song I’m sure you’ve all heard on the radio. Give it up for Skye!’
Skye stood awestruck on centre stage. She was sober and fully exposed to a sea of blank expressions that sat before her in dead silence. Stepping up to the mike stand, Skye’s arm jerked up to shield her eyes from the blazing spotlight. As she regained her vision, the music kicked in, and her mind cleared. She knew what she had to do. When the verse came in, she sang boldly and fearlessly. She worked the stage, walking from left to right, whipping her hair around to cue the start of the chorus. The crowd responded with a roar as Skye’s powerful voice resounded through the club. She spotted Morgan and her friend standing to the side of the stage. Morgan stared up at her, while her friend gawped at Morgan.
During the meaningful bridge of the song, Skye ventured to the edge of the stage and reached out to a woman who had come to the front of the stage to cheer her on and held her hand. As the song came to a close, Skye dropped her chin to her chest and held the microphone high above her head like an Olympian displaying a gold medal. A thunderous applause burst from the audience and continued long after Skye had left the stage and was sitting alone at her table. Within seconds, people surrounded her in a flurry of handshakes, words of congratulation and offers to buy her drinks as they had the night before. She inwardly cringed as unfamiliar fingers toyed with her hair and caressed her face as if she were a pet. Skye thought she might suffocate.
‘Alright, alright, let’s give the woman some breathing space,’ an authoritative voice called out.
Skye let out a breath of relief. Izzy to the rescue.
When the crowd dispersed, Izzy dropped onto the seat beside her and gripped Skye’s hand. Unrelenting excitement shone in her eyes. ‘Skye, you know where your future lies, don’t you?’
Skye turned to where she had seen Morgan only minutes earlier, but the spot was empty. She’s probably gone home with that woman.
She picked up her glass and then came the heart-worn reply, ‘Obviously not here.’
Chapter Fourteen
Thomas stood at the foot of the grave, holding a bouquet of roses the colour of sunshine. Yellow roses had been Claire’s favourite. He smiled as he looked into her beautiful eyes, glad her family had decided to have her face engraved on the marble stone. It gave her an identity rather than the grave just being marked by a cold grey slab. The gravestone made her stand out in death as she had in life. The rain entwining with his tears, Thomas knelt down, his knees sinking into the sodden earth as he bent over and kissed the stone.
‘I’m so sorry, Claire. It should be me in there, not you. You didn’t deserve all of this shit.’ The words triggered a release of emotion, and he sobbed harder, his tears dripping off the end of his nose to join the rain puddles on the grave.
He heard a noise, and his whole body froze as he listened, his sense of self-preservation, which he had honed in prison, coming into play. He forced himself into a crouching position, too fearful to stand upright. His breath sounded loud in his ears and competed with the hammering of his heart.
Open spaces terrified him. They made him feel exposed. The parting words from Jenkins had been playing on his mind since he’d stepped foot outside of prison. Something wet ran down his spine as he tugged the back of his jacket that fit snugly to his neck, and he wondered how the rain had seeped under the collar. Then he realised it was sweat, not rain.
Be calm! He slowed his breathing, needing to make a move and fast. Roughly pushing the flowers into one of the empty vases, he kissed the tips of his fingers and pressed them to the grave before springing upright, ready for whoever was stalking him.
‘Hello,’ said a voice from behind him.
The blood drained from his face. Thomas literally jumped around and landed in a defensive stance.
‘What are you going to do, fight a ghost?’ the old man laughed at him. He was dressed in wellies and a long grey trench coat, with a rain hat pulled low over his head.
Thomas tried to laugh off his reaction, but there was no denying he was spooked. Jesus!
‘I bet he watches all those zombie films. Load of rubbish. Kids today,’ the old man moaned to himself, stroking his long grey beard as he walked off, still muttering.
Thomas turned back to the grave, somewhat embarrassed. He knew if Claire could see him, she’d be laughing and telling him not to be so paranoid. He knew
she’d be right, of course, but he couldn’t help feeling afraid. Fear kept him on his toes and stopped him from becoming too complacent. Fear and paranoia had kept him alive in prison.
His mind travelled back to Claire and her children. He needed to speak to Morgan soon, to make peace with her. He had to take control of the situation. When he let fate lead the way, bad things happened, like they had with Claire. He hadn’t put her on the gear; that had been her choice. She’d wanted to experience a new high, saying that life felt jaded. Had he not been out of his head, he never would have assisted her with her first hit. The memory still pained him to this day. The woman who had loved and trusted him was down that hole because she had made the wrong choice. The wrong choice had been to love him. In her memory, he’d promised he wouldn’t go back down that road again. He was clean—had been for four years—and he had learnt his lesson by losing the one person in his entire life who had thought he was worth something, who had loved him. The drugs had destroyed his life once, but he had paid the price, and it was a price he never wanted to pay again.
Chapter Fifteen
‘Bloody hell, Morgan. It’s the middle of the night,’ Adrian yelled as he pulled the cover over his head to escape the glare of sunlight streaming into his room.
Morgan let the curtain drop from her hand and crossed over to where Adrian lay curled up in bed. She grabbed the edge of the quilt and tugged at it until she could see his scrunched-up face.
‘Come on, Morgan, be fair. I’ve only had a few hours’ sleep.’ He rubbed his red-rimmed eyes and stared at his sister.
‘It’s midday, Adrian. Midday.’
‘What!’ He sprang up like a jack-in-the-box and gaped at her. ‘Really? Oh, crap!’
Morgan sat down on the edge of his rumpled bed. He had slept the same way since he was a little boy, as if he fought battles in the bed at night. His pillows were half off the bed, the bed sheet was crumpled in the middle, and his hair stood on end as if in fright. Her heart tightened—more for the little boy he had been than for the man-child he was.