As Weekends Go (Choc Lit) (10 page)

‘Yet when you last spoke to him you chose not to tell him about yesterday’s tumble on the staircase, or meeting Alex and that he’s staying at our hotel?’

Abi’s words hovered in the air between them.

‘The main reason I didn’t say anything is because I knew Greg would go mad if he thought I’d shown myself up,’ said Rebecca, amidst the background noise of girly chats and peals of laughter. ‘
Why?
Have you told Nick about it then?’

‘Not about the Alex bit, no. I just mentioned you’d hurt your shoulder.’

They stared at each other, no further remarks necessary.

‘You must admit, though, Alex and Kenny
are
sexy, aren’t they?’ said Abi, eventually caving in.

‘Stop it, Huxley!’

‘Oh, go on. Just one more teensy-weensy drink, then we’ll leave. I promise. At least people aren’t gawking at us up here like they were downstairs.’

Speak for yourself, thought Rebecca.

‘
One
more and that’s it,’ she said, ignoring the worrying little whoop of joy in her head.

Upon stepping back into the lounge, both women abruptly stopped.

‘Oh, great! They’ve scarpered,’ said Abi, shoving her hands on her hips. ‘How humiliating. We’ll probably be ejected now. Oh, hang on though …’ she pointed out a booth on the far side, ‘is that Kenny over there? I don’t trust my eyesight.’

‘Yes, that’s Kenny.’ Rebecca could see him waving a bottle of bubbly at them.

Where was Alex though?

They skirted the packed dance floor. Liam Tyler stood, swaying, arms round his girlfriend, to an old skool classic. The song reminded Rebecca of her sister Lorraine’s hen night in Croydon a few years back; she and Abi groaning all the way home in the taxi, vowing never again to do tequila shots.

She watched Abi skip on ahead of her to whisper something in Kenny’s ear, no doubt pre-warning him to behave, if Rebecca knew Abi.

Still no sign of Alex anywhere. Must be in the gents. Or downstairs, maybe? She glanced left, then right, eyes panning round as much as feigning nonchalance would permit.

Please don’t have gone without saying goodbye, Alex.

Abi was beckoning her into the candlelit booth. She had that beseeching look on her face again, and had firmly wedged herself among the red silk cushions, with Kenny snuggled up beside her.

‘Oi, Bex, don’t stand over there on your ownsome,’ he hollered at her. ‘Alex has probably got caught chatting to someone. I keep telling him to come clubbing more often. Everyone wants a piece of him now he’s turned up. Get yourself in here with us and have a glass of bubbly, girl! Keep his seat warm for him!’

Rebecca wondered had they quite heard Kenny in Australia!

Admittedly, she’d been a bit downcast at the thought Alex might have left, but there was no need to broadcast it. Honestly! What was he like?

She stepped into the booth and sat alongside them, her twinge of annoyance with him evaporating when he flashed her that cheeky great grin of his.

‘Only teasing, babe!’ he said, winking at her.

‘That’s okay,’ said Rebecca, reaching for her champagne. She’d only taken one mouthful, when the music changed to another huge floor filler, one of her favourites that had her toes tapping in no time.

‘Fancy a jig, girls?’ asked Kenny, leaping to his feet. ‘Leave your bags. I’ll get someone to watch the booth for us.’ He motioned to one of the bouncers who clearly knew him and seemed more than happy to oblige.

Rebecca imagined this was quite the norm where Alex Heath and friends were concerned. Nothing too much trouble.

Abi gently elbowed her. ‘I know you didn’t want to come here tonight,’ she said, ‘but at one time you used to love a good boogie.’

‘True.’ Rebecca nodded. Short of the odd wedding reception or family party – well, on Rebecca’s side, anyway – she rarely got the chance any more. It was mainly dinner parties these days, with Greg’s work colleagues or fellow members of the golf club he’d joined, which were okay, just a bit stuffy at times. Rebecca had suggested to him that it might be fun occasionally to all go ten pin bowling, or for a curry, or even to a show or concert, but he invariably rubbished it, so, actually …
yes
, she did fancy a jig!

‘What are we waiting for?’ said Kenny, slapping his hands together. ‘Lead me to it, my beauties!’

One place Greg had never been able to knock Rebecca’s confidence in herself was on the dance floor. No posturing or vulgarity, merely a natural feel for the rhythm, presently matched by both Abi and Kenny, earning the two women in particular plenty of attention, not all of it appreciative. The striking redhead sitting with her bodybuilder chum on the veranda looked as sulky as anything, as did the unsmiling blonde enclosed in her swarthy boyfriend’s hairy-armed embrace, who’d spent the last four songs dancing in Rebecca’s eyeline.

‘Not very friendly, some of the people in here, are they?’ Abi shouted across at Kenny.

‘Take it as a compliment, treacle!’

Rebecca kept time to the beat of the music, turning her body one hundred and eighty degrees to avoid scrutiny.

Heat whooshed to her face, setting her tummy all of a tingle, as she spotted Alex standing by the champagne bar. It looked like one of the waiters was bending his ear about something. Except Alex wasn’t listening. He was staring at
her
instead.

Heart drumming, Rebecca tore her gaze away, but couldn’t quell the desire to check if he was still looking. The intoxicating blend of flashing lights, music, alcohol, and the thrill and feel of wearing Abi’s – thankfully now dry – slinky dress, had emboldened her.

She needed to grab a reality check, go and sit down, drink some water, or something.

She signalled to Abi and Kenny that she was thirsty and would see them back at the booth. The beat zipped from fast to frenetic, part clearing the dance floor, allowing her a less crowded return route.

If she’d been staring straight ahead instead of at the floor to dodge making eye contact with anyone, she might have spotted Liam Tyler before he grabbed her. The last time she’d seen him, he’d been draped over his girlfriend.

‘Hello, princess!’ he yelled, crushing her against his six-pack. ‘Quite the little mover, I see.’ He lifted Rebecca off her feet and swung her round, causing her dress to ride up her thighs. If he folded her over his shoulder, like he was threatening to do, it’d be round her waistline. That’d serve her right for having the nerve to feel sexy in it.

What was wrong with the man? He must be
on
something!

She saw Alex striding over, his frown deepening as he manoeuvred himself between them. ‘What are you playing at, Liam?’ His voice stayed calm, but he couldn’t hide the menace in his eyes.

‘Easy, man. I was just having a laugh,’ said Liam, stumbling back.

Alex stared at him, unblinking. ‘Go home, Liam! Before you make tomorrow’s front pages. Your head’s all over the place.’ He turned to Rebecca. ‘You okay?’

‘Yeah, no harm done,’ she said, relieved to see Liam’s equally glassy-eyed girlfriend manhandling him away. ‘Thanks for diffusing things so quickly.’

Alex shook his head. ‘Bet you wish you’d never met us, don’t you?’ He placed his hand in the small of Rebecca’s back and steered her over to the booth.

She thought she’d conquered the shaking hands and dry throat combo, but when he climbed in beside her and settled his eyes upon her, the full force of his sex appeal rocked her.

He’s waiting for an answer, Rebecca.

‘Um … sorry, what was the question?’

He smiled at her. ‘Don’t worry. I’m just pleased you came back. I was about to come over and speak to you before the three of you went off to dance. Talking of which …’ He pointed at the dance floor and grinned.

‘Oh, lord!’ said Rebecca, laughing.

The DJ had gone all eighties. Abi and Kenny were centre-stage, enthusiastically going for it to a Michael Jackson medley.

She turned her attention back to Alex. ‘Sorry for whizzing off to the Ladies earlier on. I didn’t mean to cause any offence. I felt a bit out of my depth.’

‘You didn’t offend me,’ he said, eyes penetrating hers. ‘I’m glad we get to chat some more.’

A hostess, about eight feet tall, with perfect hair and teeth, wafted past their booth. ‘More champagne, Alex?’ She bent over him, provocatively.

‘Yes, please.’ He touched Rebecca’s arm. ‘Or would you prefer something else?’

‘No. Best not mix my drinks,’ she said, clasping the half glassful she still had.

Alex smiled up at the hostess. ‘Another bottle, please.’ He looked over at Abi and Kenny again. ‘Actually, make that two. And a mineral water for me.’

‘Coming right up.’ She blew him a small kiss, ignoring Rebecca. ‘Good to see you again. Don’t leave it so long next time,’ she said, swanning off with his order.

Bed partners? Ex-bed partners? Potential bed partners? Rebecca felt ashamed of herself for speculating. What was it the hotel masseuse had said? ‘Him being a footballer, you just assume things, don’t you?’

How would a regular girlfriend of Alex’s feel about the adulation he received? Scores of women must fancy him; the two shaking their stuff right next to the booth for a start, both of whom had been giving Rebecca ‘the eyes’ since she and Abi came up here.

Yet Alex seemed so unaffected by it all. Such a dream to talk to. So attentive.

So normal.

And he’s sitting here with you, Rebecca.

Midnight. And Fuengirola’s Salamandra bar was heaving.

Nick and his mates pushed their way through hordes of fellow sun-kissed Brits, past the DJ who looked like he’d been partying from birth, and out onto the terrace, where two spare tables beckoned.

‘This place is the bollocks,’ said Deano, dishing out the San Miguels. ‘No wonder the boys suggested it.’

Nick nodded, not really giving two shits. He was more worried about his sunburn. This chair he was sitting on felt about as comfortable as a stone mattress.

‘I mean, talk about tempting,’ said Deano, his eyes following a lycra-clad arse.

‘What is?’ said Nick.

‘Cheating. You numpty.’

‘Never really thought about it,’ said Nick, shrugging. ‘Oh, I admit, I look. Doesn’t mean I wanna touch though, does it?’

‘Nor would I if I had a woman like Abi. Which reminds me,’ Deano slapped the back of Nick’s head, ‘it’s about time you announced your engagement, isn’t it?’

‘Keep it schtum, I said.’

But several heads had already rotated.

‘You getting married, Jordan?’ bellowed ex-con, and fellow stag, Gary Swan. ‘You kept that one quiet! Looks like we might need to rev things up a bit.’ He ordered a tray of Flaming Lamborghinis. ‘Down in one contest! Loser pays for the lot!’

‘Piece of piss!’ said Nick, hunching over at the ready.

A separate group of blokes sitting on the adjacent tables pulled their chairs in for a closer look, as did the three tanned lovelies perched behind Deano.

Wary of losing face, Nick piled in, necking four in quick succession. In for a penny and all that …

Whistles and jeers rang out across the terrace as they finished.

‘I do declare Jordan wins by a whisker,’ shouted Deano, raising Nick’s arm in the air.

Gary wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘Double or quits?’

Nick didn’t hesitate. ‘Bring it on!’

A huge pineapple-shaped pitcher with melon chunks and cherries garnishing the top and two straws sticking out of it arrived at their table.

Nick hated cocktails, but was in too deep to back out.

‘First one to stop drinking loses,’ snarled Gary.

Nick gave it his all, but floundered when he hit pure coconut syrup, handing his rival victory.

Gary even scoffed the fruit!

Nick offered a half-hearted handshake to mark the truce, but somehow knew that Gary wouldn’t let him off that easily. Nick wouldn’t mind, but the proper groom-to-be had buggered off with two other stags to a casino for the rest of the night.

Ah, well, time to stretch his legs and locate the gents toilets. He felt half-pissed already after sinking that lot.

When he weaved his way back to the terrace a little while later, things seemed to have quietened down. Deano and most of the other lads were discussing some club in Marbella they were all supposed to be hitting the following night, and Gary appeared preoccupied with his phone.

Nick slipped back into his seat and picked up a freshly deposited beer. He still had the bottleneck in his mouth when someone plonked themselves down on the arm of his chair.

He swung round to see a vast cleavage and an explosion of dodgy lowlights staring back at him.

‘Hi, Nick,’ said the owner of both, pouting sexily, ‘I’m Cassie.’ Nick could see Deano frantically mouthing something to him about her being from the table behind.

Nick figured she must be one of the trio who’d been watching his boozing fest.

‘Hello, Cassie,’ he said, deeming it only gentlemanly to be polite.

‘I hear you’re getting married,’ she said, drawing in her two sidekicks.

‘
Yeah
 … sort of.’ Nick threw Deano a bemused look as all three women crowded round him, giggling.

‘Meet my besties,’ she said. ‘We do a mind-blowing group lapdance, don’t we, girlies?’

A cold sweat crept over Nick as he saw a phone being aimed in their direction.

‘Say cheese, folks,’ called out Gary Swan, belly-laughing.

‘
Cheeeeeeeeeese!
’ cried Cassie, falling onto Nick’s lap and cupping his face to hers as the flash popped.

Another great cheer went up as Cassie’s two friends danced their way back to their table, unlike Cassie, who, despite telling Nick they’d been pulling his leg, courtesy of ‘that naughty Gary’ appeared to have genuinely developed a bit of a thing for him.

‘So, where are you from,’ she asked, pressing a hand against his chest.

‘
Er
 … Mitcham,’ said Nick, watching Gary line up his phone for another snap.

‘A south London boy,’ said Cassie, clapping her hands. ‘I’m north of the Thames. Camden. Not too far away.’

Terrific
, Nick thought, inwardly groaning.

‘I love shaven heads,’ she cooed, slowly running her hand over Nick’s, her 38DDs inches from his face. ‘And tattoos.’

‘
Yeah?
’ The smell of cocoa butter drifted up Nick’s nostrils. Same stuff Abi always sloshed on. Or was it after sun lotion? Either way, he was about to be asphyxiated. ‘How long are you here for?’

‘Until Wednesday,’ she said, gently scratching the golden eagle imprinted on his left forearm. ‘If you’re lucky, I’ll let you see my white bits.’

‘Ha!
Look at him. He’s cacking himself,’ yelled Gary.

‘We’re going down to the marina in a minute,’ Cassie went on, easing herself off Nick’s lap. ‘It’s party night. Anyone can go. Come with us if you like?’

‘Nah, you’re all right, thanks,’ said Nick, seizing his escape route.

‘Blowing you out, is he, girls?’ Gary winked at the other stags. ‘That’s not very nice of him, is it?’

Cheers, Gary, you shit-stirrer!

‘Well, if you change your mind, you know where we are,’ said Cassie, chivvying her girls along.