“That’s—”
“You were always such an impeccable dresser. Even under this pouring rain, while the rest of us look frumpy and unkempt, you look like you just stepped off of a London Fashion Week stage.”
I really don’t know what to make of her compliment. “Adele—”
“You’re gorgeous as always, Ethan.” This is the second time she’s interrupted me in a matter of minutes. I guess she’s doing her best to avoid facing the music.
“You’re not—”
“How is Xander keeping? I bet you he’s as handsome and dapper as the last time I saw him.”
The last time? You mean when he was standing outside his house, as confused and hurt as I was, watching you leave in a taxi without so much as a wave?
In the brief moments when I’ve allowed myself to imagine an encounter with her, I never thought those would be the first words coming out of her mouth. They’re so distant and impersonal. Then again, Adele has a knack for detaching herself from anything too emotional. Maybe that’s why it didn’t matter how many times we told her that we loved her or that it was possible to make a threesome relationship work. She was still able to forget all about us without batting an eyelash. Perhaps that explains why she’s able to make small talk while I’m just standing here tongue-tied.
“Listen, Ad—”
“Muffin bun.” This time it’s a man walking towards us who interrupts me. Muffin bun? “I got you your grilled Nutella banana sandwich with extra hazelnut cocoa spread, just the way you like it, and an espresso.” The man lifts his hands triumphantly. “Time for us to hit Gucci for some shopping. My pockets are heavy with loads of money.” A few more steps and he’s now standing next to Adele. What I witness next is shocking. The man leans down and sweeps his tongue over her lips. When he tries to slip it inside her mouth, Adele laughs before placing her hands against his shoulders and pushes him back.
“Come on, stop,” she scolds gently. The guy grunts his displeasure and takes a step forward. He’s undeterred in his pursuit, but this time Adele turns her head to the side. You’d think I were invisible.
“I don’t want to stop, baby,” the guy says. Un-fucking-believable.
She blushes and looks up at me apologetically. Interesting. The Adele I knew hated public displays of affection. Her uptight upbringing dictated a certain amount of decorum regardless if you’re in a relationship or not. Quick stolen kisses were okay with her, but anything more was a big no-no. The Adele I knew would’ve never let things get this far. Never. I guess I’m wrong after all. She has changed.
“Gotti, not now,” she pleads. She turns to me and flashes me a media-ready smile. “I’d like to introduce you to someone.” She points at me. For the first time since he made his dramatic entrance on the scene, the man looks up at me. It’s as if it’s only now that he notices me standing there. At six-two, I’m hard to miss, especially considering the chump standing in front of me can’t be much taller than five-nine. Without his platform trainers on, I’d be surprised if he hits five-eight. “Ethan, this is Gotti Monroe.” Adele flashes me a bright smile. She switches to industry mode now. She always does that when she’s schmoozing. “Gotti is one of the hottest rappers in Britain right now. His career is rising faster than a rocket,” she says proudly. Never heard of him. Wait a minute. Gotti? As in John Joseph Gotti Jr? The deceased American gangster? The guy who became boss of the Italian Gambino crime family in New York City? That Gotti? Clearly that’s a stage name. Still, what a fucking joke. “Gotti, Ethan Gordimer is a legend in his own right. He was part of the group 4Ev—”
Gotti’s eyes widen. His stunned gaze shifts from mine to Adele’s. “Are you shitting me? Holy big balls, you look soooo different in a suit. And you’re a loooot older.” Thanks. Once again Gotti turns his head left to right between Adele and I. The expression on his face is of pure amazement. “No, seriously, muffin bun, are you fucking shitting me right now? You know this guy? I mean you really know him?”
This is my first introduction to Gotti, the rapper, and I already can tell he’s an absolute idiot. Adele is really dating this guy? A rapper’s career is a short one. It’s true that some illustrious talents are still drawing in crowds well into their forties, but they’re few and far between. If memory serves me correctly, Adele was never into younger men. Wow. She’s really changed.
“Yes, I do,” she answers. The confusion in her voice is noticeable.
“Do you know who this dude is?” Gotti asks. Without waiting for her response, he shoves the coffee and the sandwich he was holding into Adele’s hands. She grabs them and looks up at me, perplexed. The best I can come up with is the fact that perhaps Gotti wants to shake my hand. Boy, was I ever off the mark. The guy turns towards me and practically jumps into my arms. “Holy shit, mate. You’re a bloody legend. You’re the real deal,” he shouts in my ear. He hugs me so tight he’s pressing all the air out of my lungs. “This is fucking amazing.” At this rate, I’ll have lost my hearing before my next meeting. “Wow. I mean wow,” he exclaims. Thankfully his excitement forces him to take a step back because that’s the only way he can jump up and down on the pavement. “You’ve made my day. Scratch that. You’ve made my year.” He’s speaking so loudly that now passersby are looking our way. “Do you know how many times I’ve watched your videos?” he asks, clapping his hands together. “I’ve shamelessly copied your cool dance moves for my own videos. And I hope to show them off when I go out on my first tour. Are you still in touch with Xander? Weren’t you two best friends? What about Bryan and Edward? You guys fell off the radar. Are you going to do a revival tour?”
“I—” Why is it so difficult for me to get a word in with these two?
“Dude. 4Ever was the bomb.” Gotti turns his attention back to Adele. “Babycakes, how do you know the great Ethan Gordimer?”
“Um… Ethan and… Well… It’s just—”
“Muffin bun, none of that made any sense. For someone who’s in PR, you’re tripping all over your words,” he scoffs. Gotti waits for Adele to say something, but the best she can do is open and close her mouth like a fish out of water. “Okay, then.” He rolls his eyes. “I’ll ask the man himself. Bro, how do you know my girl?”
Adele looks up at me, completely panicked.
Let me put her out of her misery and mine. “Adele and I have bumped into each other at a number of industry functions.” I pause. “But that’s ages ago. Adele and I no longer have any reasons to be in touch.” I couldn’t resist adding that last part. Yes, it’s an obvious dig. She deserved it.
“Fucking brilliant.” Gotti claps his hands together again. “If you two are friends then the two of us are friends by extension,” he beams. It’s like he hasn’t heard a word I said.
All right, it’s time for me to end this bullshit. I extend my arm and look at my watch before meeting Gotti’s excited gaze. He’s still staring at me as if I’m a superhero. “Listen, it was good to meet you,” I say, lifting my fist in the air. Without missing a beat he bumps his against mine. I doubt this guy even knows how to shake hands. “I’m sorry I haven’t been following your career.” As I pointed out earlier, I haven’t got a clue who the hell he is and I have little interest in finding out more. “I have a very important meeting and I need to grab a bite to eat before heading towards it. I’d hate for my clients to have to wait for me. Tardiness has never been a game I play.”
“Yeah.” He nods. “I totally get it.”
“Enjoy your shopping spree.” I refer back to the comment he made earlier. I turn my attention to Adele. I can’t read her expression. But does it really matter? “You’re keeping well and it seems that your relationship with Gotti is good for you.” Am I being a little facetious? You bet. “Have a great rest of the day.” I tip my head as a salute. Shaking hands or kissing her on the cheeks would involve touching her. I’m definitely not going down that road.
“Goodbye, Ethan, I hope we’ll meet soon again,” Adele babbles.
I hope t
o God that doesn’t happen.
What a fucking awkward encounter.
CHAPTER 42
Xander
“Gotti Monroe?” I shake my head. “Gotti Monroe?” I repeat, pacing around my kitchen. I’m so perturbed, I can’t even sit still to finish my meal. “We’re talking about Gotti Monroe?” Ethan nods. He’s been doing that a lot as I bombard him with the same question. “He’s this high,” I say, bringing my hand up to my chest.
“Yup,” Ethan confirms.
“And his fashion sense is objectionable, even laughable.”
Ethan nods again.
“How the hell did that happen?” I might sound a bit dramatic, but you have to understand, the Adele I knew was more discriminating than that. Gotti is nothing more than a wannabe punk.
“As I said before, it was my first time even hearing about the guy, but everything about him seemed just wrong for her.” It’s not surprising that Ethan and I are on the same page.
“I can’t believe that she’d actually allow Gotti Monroe to fuck her.” The thought makes me cringe. It’s not that I want to be in his shoes, but this rapper has made a career out of putting women down in his lyrics. If that weren’t enough, the skintight jeans he wears in his videos to trick everyone into believing that he has a massive cock are ridiculous.
“They were excessively friendly and when he called her his girl, she didn’t refute it. She just blushed and lowered her eyes. I could be wrong, but it didn’t look like a burgeoning relationship to me. They looked cozy together,” Ethan explains between bites.
“Are you bloody kidding me?” I’m dumbfounded. “So you weren’t able to get more information out of her?”
He shakes his head. “I was so taken aback from seeing her that by the time I was able to find my bearings, this guy dressed in a pair of skintight gold trousers, unlaced army boots and a studded red leather jacket came barreling down calling her ‘muffin bun.’”
“What? You didn’t tell me that part.” I flip around to look at him.
Needless to say that after Ethan called me back to confirm that he had indeed bumped into our ex, we nixed our restaurant reservations and decided to retreat home. Ethan stopped by Vesuvio pizzeria. He loaded up on their meat, prosciutto and their hot Italian sausage pizzas. I was already having one of those days to start off with. I truly didn’t need more shit coming my way. Finding out that Ethan crossed paths with the woman who discarded our love with as much regard as she would throw a dirty tissue in the bin only serves to agitate me even more. The flow of alcohol is taking the edge off, but still, this news is rocking my world and not in a good way. For the last half-hour while we’ve been devouring our pizzas and washing them down with booze, he’s been giving me a play-by-play of his brief meeting with Adele Bradford.
“I did. I just chose to omit the idiotic nickname he has for her. Just saying it makes me nauseated.” Ethan opens his mouth and puts his index finger inside it, pretending to barf.
“Muffin bun?” I ask incredulously. “And she accepts that?”
Ethan gives me a one-shoulder shrug. “Apparently she does. He repeated it a couple of times while we were standing there.”
I shake my head. “What a fucking wanker,” I spit out. “He’s not even a bona fide gangster. He knows zilch about the life of a badass thug. It’s all part of a well-oiled marketing machine. For crying out loud, his real name is Melvin Phineas Oswald.”
Ethan’s eyes widen. “Are you serious?”
“Without a word of a lie.” Ethan might have never heard of the rapper, but I have. In our industry, he’s known as a smoke-and-mirrors persona that was stitched together by his money-hungry and overzealous recording label. He has mediocre talent at best, but for some reason his female fans can’t get enough of him and too many teenage boys look up to him. “He grew up in Clapham. That’s as middle-class as you can get. I doubt he’s had it rough, even if he’s desperately trying to fool us into believing he has. According to a few of his former classmates, he was an average student and fairly shy. He went to an all-boys’ school. As you can imagine, this is the kind of uncool fact that his manager is desperately trying to hide from the public. He gets far more downloads of his songs and views on his YouTube channel when people believe that he grew up on the mean, dirty and crime-ridden streets of Kings Cross. Fucking imposter,” I rage. “If you’re going to claim you’re a ‘tough son of a bitch’”—I curl my fingers into quotation marks—“you should have at least grown up in a neighborhood that entitles you to that reputation.”
“You know what upsets me the most?” Ethan asks.
“No.” I put an end to my pacing and sit back down in front of him.
“Seeing her with that lowlife is one thing, but her indifference was slicing,” Ethan says, grabbing another slice of sausage pizza.
I mimic him, but I take two. “Why are you surprised? She showed her true colors when she walked out on us. She had a fun and kinky time and when she was done with us, she moved on.” I shrug my shoulders in a matter-of-fact way.
We sit there in silence eating our pizza for a few long minutes. Suddenly, a thought surges into my head. I drop the unfinished crust in my plate and look up at Ethan.
“What?” he asks, meeting my gaze.
“Do we tell Delilah about Adele?” It’s true that what we share with the Texan is casual, but it does beg the question.
“Hmph.” Ethan pauses. “Why rehash the past? You and I are constantly all over the city and we have a very active social life. Unless we’re teetering on the verge of physical exhaustion, we never stay home. That was a chance encounter with our ex. We’ve not seen or heard from Adele in over a year and a half. Not to mention, she’s clearly moved on with Gotti-slash-Melvin. What good would it do? I’m fairly certain Delilah knows that we’ve been with other women before her. Even if things were to get more serious between the three of us, it’s not like we still have any connections with Adele,” he says without a trace of emotion in his voice. “I saw it with my own two eyes, mate. We’re part of her past… and vice versa,” Ethan concludes.
CHAPTER 43
Delilah
Exceptionally, we all had to work on a Saturday. I did grumble about it when I woke up this morning, but in the end, it wasn’t nearly as bad as I was expecting it to be. Given the fact that the auction is already next week, every minute counts. Although my contribution isn’t as weighty as some of the more experienced curators’, my plate is still quite full doing things that Ashley or her assistant can’t get to. Not to mention that on the heels of this event, we have another one to get ready for.
Thankfully Ashley took pity on us and we only ended up working from ten to five. At least I was able to sleep in, which was very much needed since I wasn’t able to escape the gallery before ten o’clock last night. As exciting as this is, it’s definitely throwing a wrench in my dating life. Not only have I not been able to see my two lovers, things have been so hectic that my text messages have been sparse during the day. When I get home at night, we invariably end up on a Skype chat until my eyes can barely stay open. The only consolation is knowing that their plates are as full as mine.
After our busy day, Ashley insisted on us spending time at a nearby pub. I stayed as long as I could, but at six o’clock, I bade my farewells to everyone and made my way to the Tube. I rushed home to get ready for my date with Ethan and Xander. Since I haven’t seen them in a few days, I’m chomping at the bit to be with them again. I’m happy work keeps my mind busy, but still, I miss them something fierce.
I just stepped out of the cab and I’m standing in front of a beautiful Victorian house. I take a step to my right to give myself one last lookover before going in to meet my boys. When I’m satisfied with my appearance, I take a deep breath in to boost my confidence and I walk inside the restaurant.
Given that I’m in one of the best neighborhoods in the city, I shouldn’t be surprised when I walk in, but I can’t help be in awe as I take in my surroundings. The j
uxtaposition is striking. Although the outside screams heritage home, most likely built during the reign of Queen Victoria, it’s clear the inside has been fully updated. What I like about it is that it’s not one of those ultra-edgy, cold and almost clinical décors. Rather it’s a nice balance between old and new. The lobby is decorated in a simple yet opulent fashion. The walls contrast nicely with the rich wood. This is definitely upper class. I stroll down the long corridor until I’m standing in front of a man behind an ebony desk.
“Good evening and welcome to Café Belleville, madame,” he says with a slight smile. “My name is Antoine and I am your maître d’hôtel. How can I be of service to you this evening?”
Oh, this is very hoity-toity. No one’s ever called me madame before… especially not with a French accent.
“Good evening, my name is Delilah and I’m meeting Mr. Gordimer and Mr. Emerson for dinner.”
“Oh, yes, they did let me know they were expecting another guest. They’re already waiting for you, madame.” My guys were planning on picking me up, but since I thought it was important for me to spend time with my colleagues, I told him that I’d make my way to the restaurant on my own. “Is this your first time with us?”
“Yes, it is,” I say, a little embarrassed. I guess even in my best attire, I still look like a fish out of water.
“In that case, I hope you enjoy your time with us here. If you don’t, make sure to come back and tell me. We do value our guests’ feedback.”
Oh, God, I’d never have the courage to do that. “I’m sure that if Mr. Gordimer and Mr. Emerson selected this restaurant, it’s because it’s worth it. Not to mention that you have a long list of accolades online.”
“Touché. We do our best, madame.” I love his fake modesty considering the fact that the ratings for this place are off the charts. “And it’s always good to see loyal customers such as Mr. Gordimer and Mr. Emerson come back over and over again.” I simply smile at him. “Let me get your hostess, Julianna, to bring you to them. Please feel free to take a seat in our waiting area.” Antoine points to his left. I follow his finger and notice a chic little nook.
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