Delicious (A Rumour Mill Novel) (20 page)

           
“No...no...tonight’s
your night. I ruined it. Please don’t tell the guests to leave on my behalf.”
Grace moaned.

           
“No.
Grace, you did nothing wrong. You ruined nothing. Trevor ruined it. I’m calling
the police.” Alistair said. He soothed Grace by rubbing her shoulders.

           
“Please
don’t. You’ll make matters worse.” Grace insisted.

           
Alistair
wanted to hit Trevor like he hit Grace. He couldn’t understand why Trevor
wanted to take advantage of Grace.
Why did
Trevor go after Grace?
The question tormented him.

           
As
soon as all guests left Philippe returned with cups of milky tea and
digestives. He sat down next to Grace and Alistair. Grace told Philippe.
Philippe was outrage, startled and disgusted.

           
Philippe
and Alistair demanded Grace to call police. After further pleading from Grace,
Alistair reluctantly agreed as long as Grace never speaks or see Trevor again. Alistair
firmly stated should Trevor step foot in Delicious or come to see her at home Grace
is to dial 999 immediately.

           
For
the sake of everyone’s nerves Grace thought it best to visit with Cat and
Corrie for the weekend. She had the weekend off. Grace didn’t know how she was
going to explain the growing bruise to Cat and Corrie as they held high regard
for Trevor.
This time honesty’s the best
policy. I need to knock Trevor off of that pedestal they placed him on.

♥

Late Friday evening the intercom buzzed in
Guy’s flat. Security at reception announced Darren’s arrival. Darren’s message
left Guy worried for his brother. Guy contacted Darren. Darren suggested a
private meeting. He didn’t want to discuss matters over phone. Guy faltered and
told Darren to drop by.

           
Guy
left the flat door open whilst he went to the kitchen to pour two gin and
tonics. A few minutes later Darren appeared in the kitchen. He looked worse for
wear. There were dark circles under Darren’s eyes from lack of sleep. Guy
raised his eyebrow.

           
“Where
were you?” Darren asked. It wasn’t a greeting, but it was expected by Darren.

Darren sat on a
barstool near the kitchen island.

“I was on holiday
with Amanda. She had some time off in her schedule and thought of spending it
with me on a yacht on the Med.” Guy replied handing over a tall glass to
Darren.

“I’ve tried
calling you, repeatedly. You disconnected your mobile. Thank God you haven’t changed
your landline!” Darren said.

           
Darren
looked around the kitchen. He loved Guy’s flat. It was open plan flat with a
180 degree unblock view of Canary Wharf on the Thames. Tall curtains pulled
back from the floor to ceiling glass windows exposed the gold glittering lights
of the city.
Guy has everything I once
had, a life with no commitments, no insane bitch of a wife, mob father-in-law
and an illegitimate child with a stripper no less. Now people are talking that
I’ll be traded to a less desirable team and less pay....what’s Guy going to
think?

           
If
Darren could take everything back he would. Instead he’s stuck in a life and
debt sucking his soul. Darren hoped Guy’s sensible head led to sensible advice
that he can use.
 
He knocked back his
drink and slammed the glass down on the cool black granite. Woefully Darren
placed his head in his hands.

           
“You
look rough mate. What’s wrong? It’s the team, isn’t it?” pointedly Guy asked. The
question was straight forward and honest, considering Guy’s goal damaged Darren’s
career.

           
“That’s
just the icing on cake.” Darren murmured.

           
“Well,
what is it then?” Guy questioned as he top up their drinks. This time Darren
took a sip.

           
“Guy
I’ve got to apologise. You’re right about everything, mate.” Darren began. “I’m
in a world of trouble.”

           
Guy
shook his head.
What is it now? I wish he
wouldn’t draw this out.
Darren saw Guy growing impatient.

           
“I’m
in a lot of trouble. The week I got married I got Alana, a Cherries stripper
pregnant. She’s been raising my son.” Darren confessed.

           
Astonishment
befell Guy. Guy laughed loudly. He smiled thinking it’s a joke, but when he
took another look at Darren, he knew Darren was telling the truth. Guy took a
long drink.

           
“That’s
not the only bad news I need to tell you...”

           
Guy
pulled up a barstool.
It’s going to be a
long night.

♥

rom her kitchen window Grace watched two
small birds eating out of a birdfeeder. She took a sip of tea and nibbled on
melba toast with marmalade. It was raining. It was a typical English shade of
grey sky. The two birds were using the birdfeeder top as cover from the rain.
I wish I had someone to shelter me from the
storm,
she thought.
‘Someone like
Guy?’
a little voice inside her asked.
I’m
not going to answer that.

           
Grace
placed her mug and plate in the sink. Grace’s eyes glanced at the fridge. She
shivered. Alistair offered Grace to stay the night in his flat. She accepted. Grace
knew Trevor wouldn’t return, but she wanted to feel safe. On second thought
Grace felt she should’ve called the police. Something told her,
what good would it do? Harm his reputation?
A celebrity chef’s word against an upcoming pastry chef?

           
Grace
contacted Cat. She told Cat she wanted to visit even though it was short
notice. Cat and Corrie didn’t mind at all.

           
Grace
went into her bedroom and packed her small travel suitcase. During packing
Grace considered calling Mark. Mark’s a great manager and didn’t need
supervision. Yet Grace constantly worried about business. She decided against
it.

           
A
half an hour later Grace was done. She checked around the flat to make sure the
doors were locked and hob off. Grace went in the garage, got in her Mini Cooper
S to drive off in the opposite direction of the bakery towards the M4.

♥

Fresh from the shower and dressed in a
white Pringle shirt and dark wash jeans, Guy emerged from his bedroom. Guy was
still exhausted from the night before. The combination of jetlag and Darren’s
crisis made Guy irritable.
Crisis is an
understatement,
he thought as he came into the kitchen. Wendy his
housekeeper was cleaning the kitchen.

           
“Good
morning and welcome home, Mr. Rowling.” Wendy warmly greeted. “Would you like a
strong cup of coffee or tea?” She noticed the tired look across Guy’s face.

           
“Good
morning Wendy. It’s good to see you again. I’d love a strong cup of coffee. By
the way Darren’s sleeping in the guest bedroom. Don’t disturb him.” Guy said
plucking a banana from the fruit basket.

           
Wendy
nodded as she placed dirty dishes into the washer.

           
“I’ll
only be a moment and I’ll bring your drink in.” Wendy said.

           
Guy
sauntered off into the lounge. He grabbed the remote and turned on the telly
before plopping down onto leather couch.
 
Guy ate his banana and flicked the channels. He stopped at Sky Sports.
There on the screen was Darren’s team manager talking about the Premier loss.
Guy felt his stomach churn.

           
Last
night Darren confessed all to Guy. It knocked Guy off his feet. Darren’s
confession to having a child out of wedlock with a stripper was shocking
enough, but Darren’s other admission was bone-chilling. Darren owes William an
exorbitant amount of money. Not only did Darren owe money for a gambling debt,
but he owed William for not participating in the Premier game fixing.

           
Tears
in Darren’s eyes, he broke down. He told Guy how horrible he felt when he lost,
but the lost wasn’t on purpose. Darren was playing the game as he normally
played. Guy was just better at the game than Darren.

           
Darren
was being hounded by banks regarding mortgage payments for the Kensington town
home and Hampshire estate.
 
Tamzin spent
money to high-heaven with no consideration. And they were waiting for a renewal
contract regarding their reality show but Tamzin nor Darren hadn’t heard a peep
from show’s producers. Tamzin eased up on glamour modelling and
Rumour Mill
was losing interest in her
as she wasn’t
it
this year.

           
The
final straw for Darren was when William appeared at the home unannounced.
Darren, on the couch with a hangover, was unaware that William was in his home.
It was the lit end of a cigarette branding into Darren’s forehead that woke
him. Darren jumped off the couch, howling in pain.

           
“
What the fuck?!”
Darren howled, rubbing
his forehead.

           
William
puffed his cigarette whilst looking at Darren with a mischievous glint in his
eye.

           
“It
got your arse up, you tosser! You owe me money and I want it now.” William
growled.

           
One
of William’s goons stood beside William, punching his fist into an open palm.
It was to show Darren that William meant business. Darren told William it was
impossible to come up with that amount of money in a short amount of time. In
turn William disagreed. William told Darren that he was to work for William as
a new supplier. It meant Darren was to supply drugs to his social circle.

           
Guy
lost it.

           
“You’re
telling me you are going to be a drug dealer?!” he shouted at Darren.

           
“That’s
what he wants!” Darren cried.

           
“Really?
And you don’t have the bollocks to go to Old Bill and tell them.” Guy retorted.

           
“I
can’t Guy. I can’t.” Darren mumbled.

           
“You
know our past. You know what we’ve been through. Why are you allowing this man
to do this to us? The solution is for you to go to Old Bill, confess all and
divorce
that
tart!” Guy sternly
advised. Darren’s story and drinks made Guy feel sicken.

           
After
hours of stern advice and insisting for Darren to go to the police, Guy gave
up. Darren and Guy had too many drinks to think coherently. Guy told Darren to
spend the night. It was pointless sending Darren home.

           
Wendy
appeared alongside the couch. She placed a plate and a hot coffee mug down on
the table beside the couch.
 
Wendy picked
up Guy’s banana peel to discard it.

           
“Thank
you Wendy.” Guy said as he picked up the muffin off the plate.

           
“That’s
a vanilla poppy seed muffin. I hope you enjoy.” Wendy replied. She went to
clean the bathrooms and do laundry.

           
Guy
drank his coffee and bit into the muffin. The muffin was delicious. It was
fresh, moist, full of flavour, and the muffin had perfect texture.
I wonder if Grace can make a similar muffin like
this one. I know she could,
Guy thought as he polished it off.

           
Guy
decided to see if Wendy bought the muffin at a local bakery or if it was a new
Marks and Spencer’s item. He went off into the kitchen to find a mint blue
pastry box sitting open on the island. Guy closed the lid. There on the pretty
white label was Delicious written in hot pink cursive writing.

           
“
It’s Grace’s bakery!
” Guy shouted loud.

           
Guy
felt as though he won the English Premier and Euro-Millions jackpot all at the
same time. He jotted the address on a nearby notepad. Guy grabbed the keys to
his Range Rover. He barged into the bathroom that Wendy was cleaning.

           
“Wendy,
I’m out the door. Please tell Darren I’ll call him. Ta.” Guy said quickly.

           
Guy
ran out the door and headed to Covent Garden.

♥

Delicious was more than what Guy expected.
He was amazed at the impressive English coffee house-bakery. Guy thought Grace
might back out after
that
incident,
but he was glad to see she hadn’t. Guy walked into the bakery undetected. He
queued up on a line with several people. Guy searched baristas and employees
bringing out fresh sausage rolls and scones. He hoped to catch a glimpse of
Grace.
 
Finally it was his turn.

           
“Good
morning. What can I get you, sir?” asked a young male barista.

           
“A
tall cappuccino and a sausage roll.” Guy replied.

           
Guy
was about to ask if Grace was available to speak, but before he could utter the
words the barista was hyperventilating.

           
“
Bloody hell! It’s Guy Rowling!”
shrieked
the barista.

           
Bakery
patrons looked up from their meals. When they realised the barista was
shrieking the truth, they retrieved their camera phones and paper and pen. In
anticipation Guy rubbed his neck. Soon he was swarmed by screaming fans. They
snapped pictures as they shouted out for autographs. The barista grabbed Guy by
the shoulder. The barista pulled Guy over the counter to take a picture on his
iPhone.

Outside, people
passing by noticed the commotion. They entered the bakery out of curiosity and
soon began participating in the uproar when they realised it was Guy. Mark
emerged from the back of the store. He rushed to the phone to call the police.
It was a mad mob.

Rumour Mill
paparazzi caught wind as
their offices were only a stone’s throw away. They came in, shouting at Guy for
shots. Guy was overwhelmed. People pulling at him in various directions for
pictures and autographs. It was spiralling out of control. Guy searched
aimlessly in the crowd for Grace. She was nowhere to be found.

♥

Grace’s BlackBerry rang as she ready to
leave the petrol station. She checked to see who was calling. It was Mark. Grace
wanted to ignore it, but the temptation was strong. Rarely, if ever, Mark
called Grace on day off. It was only when he thought there was a serious
problem that Grace should know about and they were far and few between.

           
“Mark?”
Grace answered. She heard the loud background noise. It was as if people were
rioting in her store. Grace couldn’t make out what they were shouting and
chanting.

           
“Grace!
I’ve been ringing you like mad! There’s a mob! I rang the police. They’re on
their way!” Mark shouted down the phone.

           
“A
mob? I’ll be right there!” Grace cried in panic. The line went dead. Grace started
the Mini to rush to the bakery.

           
By
the time Grace reached Covent Garden it was an hour later. Saturday morning
traffic of red double-deck buses, black cabs weaving in and out along with the
addition of rain made it difficult for Grace to reach Delicious. She arrived to
find two officers standing by the bakery doors. It was cordon off.

           
“Identify
yourself please.” A bobby demanded.

           
“My
name is Grace Knowles, I’m the owner.” Grace replied handing the bobby her
driver’s licence. Once the bobby verified Grace as the owner, he opened the
door and let her in.

           
As
soon as Grace stepped foot inside, Mark came running. Mark explained that
police managed to contain the unruly crowd, but the damage was done. Mark shut
down the bakery to survey the damage.

           
“What
happened?” Grace asked disheartened.
 

Grace looked at
the damage. There were tables and chairs overturned. Broken dishes, cups, food
and garbage were strewn about the floor. Her heart sunk. Devastation befell
her. All her hard work destroyed in an instant. Mark saw the look of despair on
Grace’s face.

“He said he’ll pay
for it all.” Mark assured her.

“Who? Who will pay
for the damage done?” Grace asked bitterly. Grace extended her arms to add
emphasis to the damage surrounding them.

“He’s right behind
you.” Mark answered nodding.

As if on cue, Guy
emerged from the loo.
 
Immediately Guy
saw Grace standing with Mark.
They’re
discussing matters.
Guy’s palms began to sweat and his mouth went dry.
Nervously Guy approached as Grace turned around slowly. Her mouth opened wide,
her aquamarine eyes resemble large round saucers and her face went pale. Dazed
Grace lost all senses.
Guy Rowling did
it! GUY DID THIS!
He has the Midas
touch of a leper!

On his approach Guy’s
dark brooding cocoa eyes lit up. Each step he took her way Grace felt as though
the air was being sucked from her body. All Grace’s memories came flooding
back. Guy’s hard cock thrusting into her quivering wet pussy as she screamed
out his name. Guy whispering vulgar words in her ear with each thrilling
pounding he gave her. Skin to skin contact, the taste, the smell, the need of
release. There were other memories too...in the bath, the laughter, the talks.
Grace shook her head. She felt faint.