I roll my eyes and turn, finding a stocky, slimy, over confident type, giving me the look.
‘Hello. ’ I say courteously, turning back to the bar as the barman places our wine in front of me. ‘Thanks. ’ I hand him a twenty and take a swig, all the time feeling slimy man next to me dribbling into his pint. My skin starts to crawl. I mentally plead for the bar man to hurry with my change, and even consider the merits of abandoning my money in favour of retreat.
‘Fancy a dance?’
‘No, thank you. ’ I smile, grab my change from the barman and make a hasty get away. He gives me a disgruntled look, but he doesn’t push his luck.
This is my third glass of wine. I really am being a rebel. Oh well. After Jesse’s performance at home, I’m on a private defiance mission to have the last say.
A few hours later, the bar crowd is thinning out and we’re probably on our third bottle of wine. We’re giggling like a pair of teenagers, and I’m getting pretty brave with my questioning.
Author: Jodi Ellen Malpas
‘Were you really tied to the bed?’ I ask cheekily. The grin that spreads across her face tells me I wasn’t having my leg pulled. I’m not even that shocked. It must be the affect of the alcohol, or it could be all the steamy sex I’ve been getting myself lately. ‘I knew it,’ I laugh. ‘You need to tell him to put some clothes on when he’s wandering around the flat. I don’t know where to look. ’
‘Are you mad?’ Her eyes bug at me. ‘What a waste of a fine physic!’ Kate looks off into the distance, obviously recalling a mental image. Yes, it is pretty fine, but it doesn’t mean I want to look at it. I’ve got my own super fine physic to look at. Speaking of which, I’m drunk and I want to see him. I might call him. But then I remember…I’m not supposed to be drinking. Pah! I take another swig of wine.
‘What does he do, anyway?’ I ask. He drives a Porsche and never seems to be at work.
She shrugs. ‘Rich orphan. ’
‘Orphan?’
‘Apparently,’ she begins thoughtfully, ‘his parents died in a car accident when he was nineteen. He has no siblings, no family, nothing. He lives off his inheritance and plays very hard. ’ She smirks again.
God, Sam’s an orphan? I can’t imagine losing my parents at that age. Or any age, in fact. That must have been awful. And with no family to take him in? I suddenly see the cheeky chap in a very different light. You would never know something so dreadful had happened to him; he’s always smiling and joking.
‘How old is he?’ I ask.
‘Thirty,’ she answers, almost reluctantly, like she feels guilty for knowing the age of the man she’s screwing.
I let it pass. It’s not Kate’s fault that I’m clueless. ‘What do you make of Drew?’
Her eyebrows jump up. ‘He’s a bit straight and aloof, isn’t he?’
‘Yes!’ I exclaim. I’m glad I’m not the only one who finds him this way. ‘Not Victoria’s type at all. ’
‘Give it two dates, maximum,’ Kate points her glass at me, sloshing a bit on the table. ‘She’ll bore him to death with a run by run account of her latest visit to the tanning salon. ’
‘She’s getting more orange by the week. ’ I laugh.
‘That’s not orange, my friend. ’ Another splash of wine hits the table. ‘That’s mahogany. He’ll never be able to find her in the dark. And yes, she only does it in the dark. ’
‘No!’
‘Oh, yes. Something about cellulite and bed head. It’s pretty painful. The last bloke she was seeing said she got up an hour before him so she could have a shower, sort her hair out and get a full face of make-up on before he woke up. ’
‘That’s ridiculous!’
She nods. ‘Hey, has Jesse mentioned anything about a party at The Manor?’
‘Yes!’ I blurt, seriously considering telling her that I’ve been bribed into going. Oh, please say Sam’s asked Kate to go. That will make my night a lot more bearable. ‘Are you going?’
‘Damn right I am! I can’t wait to see the place. ’ Her eyes dance with excitement. ‘I think a shopping trip is in order. ’
‘Oh, I’ll probably make do with something I’ve got in my wardrobe. ’ I shrug. I’ve just spent five hundred quid on this stupid, miniscule dress. I go to lean back on my stool, swiftly remembering there’s no back support, prompting me to I grab the edge of the table. My wine flies up in the air. ‘Shit!’ I cry, just managing to save myself from falling arse first to the floor.
I join Kate in her helpless laughter, both our wine glasses swishing about as we titter and splutter like a pair of drunken teenagers, who’ve over indulged on cider. I need to stop drinking, right now. I’m on the cusp on falling over the edge of merriment and into the realms of slurring and staggering. With my unreasonable Lord due at eight in the morning, I need to ensure I’m hangover free.