by F. C. Clark
Friday is here, yet there is no sign of Luke, I hunt for the next best thing, located in the fridge.
Dear Kate,
I hope you’re well.
I don’t need a meal this evening as I’m out with friends.
Please feel free to leave early.
Luke x
Friends, what friends? Does he mean girlfriends? Shit. Alexis? No – never! My blood begins to boil. I can feel tears at the corners of my eyes. This is maddening. I’m angry at myself for thinking that there was something between us. Maybe he doesn’t need a cook either… Then I realise how bloody pathetic I’m being. Snap out of it, Harper.
I arrive at Café Rouge to meet Stella, still brooding over our boss.
I order our usual drinks and wait for Stella, watching the world go by.
‘Kate?’
I look up.
‘Sorry I’m a few moments late. I’ve been rushed off my feet this morning; Luke has me here, there and everywhere.’
Hearing his name makes my stomach contract.
I greet Stella with a kiss on the cheek.
‘I’ve not been here long.’ I smile.
‘So tell me, how are you? I hear you’ve been busy helping Luke with his entertainment diary.’
‘There has been one good and one challenging event.’
She looks slightly confused. ‘Oh, why is that? Has Luke been misbehaving? I shall have a word with him if that’s the case. He may be a wealthy young man, but I don’t put up with any nonsense from him.’ She wears a deadpan expression. I believe her.
‘No, Luke was relatively well behaved.’ We both laugh. ‘Let’s just say some of his so-called friends were not to my liking.’ I tilt my head as she absorbs my response.
‘Now let me think, who that could be? You were at the charity gala on Saturday… I’m trying to think, who was on the guest list?’ Stella remains silent, her index finger tapping her lip. ‘Ah yes! Alexis Cooper – am I correct?’
‘You certainly are – well done.’ I clap, impressed.
‘What can I say about her? She’s forward – which, I assume, is what you mean?’
‘I’ve renamed her the super-bitch.’ I pick up my Americano, hoping the taste will clear the bitterness in my mouth caused by the mention of her name.
Stella immediately breaks into laughter. ‘I can see why.’
‘She was so bloody rude. Did Luke tell you why he asked me to attend these functions with him?’
‘No, I thought maybe he wanted your company. These events can be laborious.’
‘And challenging… He told me that being single at these events is a pain in the arse.’
‘Oh, I see.’ Stella bites down on her lower lip, and doesn’t enquire more into Luke’s reasons.
‘Apparently he gets hit on. All the time. I can’t think why.’
‘Well, he is handsome – maybe he does have a valid reason.’
‘I’ll get back to you on that. Anyway, with me on his arm he hoped that other women wouldn’t bother him. I asked him about a cover story, but he insisted that we didn’t need one. Of course, being a man he would think that. So we decided I was still his cook, just that we had been dating for a month or so.’
Stella nods. ‘Plausible.’
‘He left me for about ten minutes – that’s when the super-bitch accosted me. She told me I wasn’t good enough for Luke and he should be with like-minded people who are “cut from the same cloth”.’ I sit back and watch Stella’s face fall.
‘She didn’t.’
‘I was so mad, I don’t know how I didn’t launch an attack on her. I’ve never been spoken to like that. I did, unfortunately, tell her where to go and because I know she’s desperate to get into Luke’s trousers I told her he was good in bed. Obviously that’s not true as I’m not with Luke, but she doesn’t know that.’
Stella nearly spits her coffee out. I am not sure which confession distresses her the most, my lack of refinement towards Alexis or my lack of sexual history with our boss.
‘I suspect she was not happy at your comments. What did Luke say?’
‘Eventually he found me propping up the bar. I explained why I had a hit man out for one of his so-called friends. At first he tried to justify her actions, but I soon put a stop to that, and then he was amused that I had stretched the truth slightly.’
‘Oh Kate, you poor love.’
‘I know – Luke is more trouble than he’s worth.’ I shake my head and drink some coffee, seeking clarity in an overdose of caffeine.
‘Kate, please never say that. I would love to see Luke happy.’ She reaches over and touches my hand. I presume she wants Luke’s eternal happiness to come from me.
‘I guess, but…’ I blow air through my lips. ‘He’s so self-assured, Stella.’
‘Yes, I can’t argue with that, yet he does deserve happiness.’
‘Of course he does.’ I look down at my cup. ‘He’s going out tonight with some friends – I just hope it’s not with Alexis.’ I’m sure Stella can sense my unspoken question.
‘I didn’t know he was going out this evening.’
I arrive home at four thirty, despondent that I’m allowing Luke to drive me insane and, more than that, to the fridge and unwanted extra calories. I choose Stilton accompanied by crackers and wine.
Slouching on the floor in the lounge indulging myself in car-crash TV, surrounded by my picnic, I hear the key in the front door followed by two familiar voices: Kiki and Barney. They enter the lounge.
Kiki stands in front of me.
‘So what’s he done now?’ She knows me very well, and knows that my behaviour indicates that my day has not gone to plan.
‘Nothing.’ I barely manage to speak, my mouth full of Stilton.
‘Bullshit… May I remind you that you are sitting on the floor with… Jesus, Kate, what the hell are you watching? Is that Jeremy Kyle?’ Kiki walks to the TV and turns it off.
Barney returns to the lounge with a couple of glasses of wine, passing one to Kiki, who looks a little overwrought.
‘I thought we would join you, babe.’ As ever, Barney’s always ready for any alcoholic beverage.
‘Whatever.’ I have no energy to argue. I’m revelling in my pissed-off mood, even more so now that the Adonis has made me consume far too many calories.
‘Anyway, I don’t have time for yours and Prince Charming’s drama: I have one of my own.’ Kiki begins to pace the wooden floor. ‘My dad’s gone fucking code red – big time. We’ve had a huge development deal that’s gone – well, let’s just say tits up – courtesy of yours truly.’ Kiki pauses to down her wine. ‘I’ve spent all afternoon trying to redeem myself and the deal, also stopping my extremely pissed-off dad from putting me up for adoption.’
‘I’m not sure how I can help.’ I get up and sit on the sofa next to Barney.
‘I’ve booked a table at Toulouse. I fucking need to impress these business associates – seriously. I’m not joking.’ She points to us. I’m not thrilled with the direction in which this conversation is heading. ‘Don’t you dare give me that look, Harper! I need you tonight… I’m begging. I know it doesn’t sound like begging, but I can assure you this is as good as it gets.’
‘I feel like shit. I’m not sure I’m good company at the moment, especially to charm some businessmen.’
‘Tough fucking luck. I need you, so you’re out, and you too, Barney. What time will Harry be home?’
‘Her usual – I guess.’ My tone is subdued. This is the last thing I want to do tonight. I had a date with some cheddar, followed by Dolcelatte.
I choose a simple red strapless dress, short but not too short, plus gold strappy sandals with a killer heel, large gold hoop earrings and a gold clutch bag. My hair is slightly kinky; looks like Roller Girl is out with me tonight.
Harry and I wait in the kitchen for Hurricane Kiki and Barney.
‘For Christ’s sake, snap out of it.’ Harry begins to lose her temper with me.
‘I’m fine,’ I try to protest, although I’m fully aware my attempt is pathetic.
‘Yeah, right – how about you tell your face that? So he has friends! You can’t get pissed off every time he goes out.’
‘I know,’ I answer, annoyed by Harry’s need to highlight the obvious.
‘You need to get over it. There’s no way he would be taking you to these events if he had a girlfriend, and as for the super-bitch… I can’t see him going out with her this evening. My gut tells me he wouldn’t go there.’
‘I’m just a bit… disconnected tonight.’
‘Every bloody night. I might have a word with Prince Charming.’
‘Don’t you dare! I’m fine, really I am.’ Sensing the atmosphere taking a nosedive I change the subject, rapidly. ‘So, how’s Raymond?’
‘Kate, I know you’ve changed the subject – this chapter is not closed. But as for Raymond, he’s delicious.’
I hear a knock at the door. Thank God. Good timing, except I know an evening of false happiness is about to start.
We arrive at Toulouse, a jazz club I’ve never been to. The club is buzzing. I’m taken aback by the decor; it’s like no other club I’ve been to. The building is a Victorian townhouse, but once inside it is a very different picture. The entire centre of the building has been removed, allowing you to view the dance floor from each of the three levels. We follow Kiki towards the far end of the room, squeezing past countless people who are drinking and dancing. Our table is in a corner, and Kiki’s guests are already waiting. Once introductions are over, Barney drags me to the dance floor, and we begin to salsa. The live music draws me in, making me feel that I’m in Louisiana, not London. Even though I feel like shit and my face looks like a busted arse I slowly relax and enjoy the atmosphere – with the help of my trusty dance partner.
Kiki keeps the champagne flowing, and remains the perfect hostess, winning the troops round to her way of thinking. After a few additional rounds on the dance floor followed by extra champagne, I’m desperate to find the bathroom. The ground-floor queue is too long; I head to the first floor.
I gauge my reflection in the mirror; this is as good as it gets. I leave the loos and re-enter the club. I walk to the railings to people-watch for a moment. As I scan the room, my eyes are drawn to a corner. No… holy fucking shit, it’s Luke. He’s here! I move to the corner of the floor for a closer look. I gaze across the centre of the room, as he is now directly opposite me. Wow. He looks his usual fuckable self, dressed head to toe in black, far too sexy for a place like this – or any place, for that matter. I watch him laughing with two men, but I can’t see any female company. Suddenly I hear shouting behind me: two men are fighting. Crap – I’m backed in a corner. I try to manoeuvre my way around them without being a target of their fists. Oh shit, this is not good! From nowhere someone grabs me. I whirl through the air, and end up facing the arse I have admired for some time.
‘Do I have to rescue you all the time?’
‘I don’t think I needed rescuing! I was stuck.’ Why am I talking to his arse? ‘I think it’s safe for you to put me down.’
‘No, I think I’ll lower you down on the ground floor. As you have nowhere to run to, I suggest you hold on tight.’ Luke’s hand moves from my thighs to rest securely over my arse.
‘Luke, can you move your hand?’
‘Do you want people to see up your dress, Kate?’
He continues down the staircase, with me over his shoulder. I refrain from looking up. Do I have no self-control when he’s around? We reach the bottom of the staircase and he gently lowers me to the floor.
‘Thanks,’ I reply sarcastically, straightening my dress and hair.
‘You’re welcome.’ Wearing a delicious smirk, he knows that he’s pushing one of my many buttons. ‘Next time you’re spying, don’t get caught… and always have an exit strategy.’
I fold my arms for his protection, because I want to launch myself at him. Once again, I am seething with him and his assumption – never mind that it’s true.
‘For your information, I wasn’t spying! I had just used the bathroom and then… I noticed you, but I was already here – I don’t think that’s classified as spying.’
He raises his brows and tilts his head, flashing me his best Sutton fuckable look. ‘Is that so?’ He begins to laugh. Laughing at me, no less… Bastard…
‘Yes.’ Oh my God, he drives me mad. I turn on my heel and begin to walk away.
‘Oh no you don’t – dance with me.’
‘What?’
He grabs my arm. It’s at this point I realise we’re on the edge of the dance floor. Being so mad at him, I’ve lost my bearings. We begin to move. He places one hand on my lower back, and holds my hand with the other, not letting me walk away. He pulls me close to his chest, so close that I can smell him. My face is at his neck, my cheek brushing against his rough skin.
He moves in time to the music, a mid-tempo salsa, which involves a certain amount of hip movement. Being this close to him is dangerous. How much longer is this going to continue? I want him. I want him inside me, touching me. His hand slides to the lowest part of my back, yet he doesn’t touch my arse. I’m weak and needy; he is too, with his erection pushing against my dress. The sexual tension is intense between us.
The music slows. My breathing, on the other hand, remains extremely rapid.
‘I think I need to return you to your friends.’ He smiles, but his intense gaze lingers.
I can’t speak, I can just about breathe. I nod in agreement.
He doesn’t release the firm clasp he has of my hand. I follow him, which is most bizarre because I wasn’t aware he knew I was here, or where our table is.
We approach the table. Harry looks at me with a smirk, teasing me that I’ve been caught loitering with Luke. My face glows the same colour red as my dress – great, I don’t want to accessorise with my outfit to this degree.
‘I wondered where you got to – hi Luke.’ Harry kisses Luke’s cheek. She lowers her gaze and notes that Luke has hold of my hand.
‘Hi, Luke.’ Kiki reaches over and gives him a kiss too. Can everyone stop kissing him? I scowl at them, purely because they get to kiss Luke and I don’t.
‘Evening, ladies. Kate and I just ran into each other.’ He looks at me, knowing that is not strictly true. ‘I’ll leave you to it.’
‘Oh, OK.’ I want to shout at him, don’t go.
‘Luke, any chance you can take Kate home? I think she’s had enough.’ I glare at Harry.
‘Of course – it would be my pleasure.’ Luke looks at me.
‘It’s fine; I don’t want to put you to any trouble.’ Why do I insist on lying when I am in his company?
‘Kate, you’re the only trouble in my life.’ His lips curl. We both know he is referring to his need to rescue me. ‘Let’s go.’
Luke and I make our way to the exit, him still gripping my hand. The evening air is warm and humid. Luke hands a card to a man on the door and within a few minutes I hear a roar. The sleek black mean machine pulls up beside us – a black Aston Martin. Is there a car this man doesn’t own? He guides me to the passenger side and I slide into the very low seat. Within seconds, he joins me in the driver’s seat. Not only is the car stunning, the driver is shit-hot too.
‘Your car is amazing.’
He grins boyishly. ‘There’s something magical about cars. I love them all.’
I chuckle, liking his honest charm.
‘I thought I would drive you to my very own private view of London; the coffee’s not bad either.’ He flashes me his cheeky grin.
‘Sure – OK.’
The car revs, and I enjoy watching him handle
such a vehicle. I imagine he’s like a well-oiled machine himself, from the strength in his arms when he holds me. I slap myself internally, ending the mental game I play on a daily basis. If I had a daisy it would be ‘fuck me, fuck me not’…
We leave Mayfair and within fifteen minutes arrive at Primrose Hill. Luke drives up towards a large area that is empty, apart from a burger van. The Aston glides sexily to a halt in the gravelled car park. Ever the gentlemen, Luke is at my door before I can even find the door handle.
Taking in the only restaurant the area has to offer, I smile.
‘Is this one of your favourite restaurants? Thank God I came to cook for you.’
‘Kate Harper, I know your love of all things greasy. Oh – I stand corrected. Now what were your exact words? Ah yes, you only put quality products in your mouth.’ It may be dark, but the darkness of his eyes sends a shudder through me.
‘Very bloody funny, Mr S. There’s nothing wrong with your memory.’ Clearly I need to improve my memory to keep up with this man.
‘No – and you will do well to remember that.’ He flashes a smile that sets my soul on fire.
Luke buys me a coffee from the delightful burger van. I follow him to a nearby bench and admire London from afar. We drink our coffee, relaxed, enjoying the simple pleasures of the view and a beverage; no money and no games.
‘Wow, this is breathtaking.’ The lights of London in the evening look like a picture postcard.
‘I come up here most evenings. Actually, I run up here, have a coffee and run back.’ He takes a deep breath, soaking in the night air.
‘Is that to burn off the forbidden food I leave you?’ I turn to look at him. I often wonder what he does in the evenings.
‘Yes…’ He looks across to me.
‘Have you always run up here? I mean, before I cooked for you?’
‘Yes – it’s good stress relief. Besides, Margaret never made cakes. Speaking of Margaret, it’s unlikely she’ll return.’
‘Oh.’
‘Her father is going to need a permanent carer. She spoke to Stella today.’