Tease (25 page)

Gorgeous? Check. Smart? Check. Funny? Check. Well hung? Big smile. What a catch, thought Blue as he snatched a good look at Richie from across the table. Now Tiger had become a virtual recluse since Vegas it was a given that she had turned down her invitation to the opening of M, a new restaurant in Mayfair, saying she wasn’t in the mood for socialising. Blue had therefore decided to come with Richie instead. The glitterati were certainly on show tonight for the launch, and the restaurant was absolutely buzzing.

At a first glance M looked like any other chic, luxury restaurant, with an abundance of expensive ‘glam-baroque’ black and lilac glass fittings, velvet walls and colossal jet chandeliers, until it became clear that the proportions and perspectives of the whole interior had been very cleverly manipulated to give the diners the experience of being either very small in some parts of the room, or oversized in other parts. Blue had already got utterly confused in the gents, the inside of which were entirely decked out in beautiful etched mirror arrangements and complemented with expert lighting to give a kind of ever-decreasing
Through the Looking Glass
effect. Blue just couldn’t work
out what was door and what was wall – even the ceiling looked confusing – and in an attempt to get out he had accidentally shocked a well-known actor minding his own business on the can. Eventually Blue had made it back to his table in one piece, wondering whether it made any difference to tackle the restrooms sober.

‘Fancy a digestif?’ asked Richie, motioning for the waiter. Between them, the pair had already polished off a tray of complementary dirty Martinis, a bottle of pink champagne and several bottles of good Pomerol, and it looked as though Richie was still going strong. Blue convinced himself it was an age thing. His own hangovers got worse with every party that passed, but hey, it wasn’t every day he took his boyfriend to the opening of the hottest new restaurant in town so why the hell pass up a good Cognac?

‘Sure, if you’re having one, that’d be dandy.’ Blue beamed, starting a game of footsie under the table.

‘Two large Remy’s please,’ ordered Richie as the waiter whisked over, ‘and a large espresso for me,’ he added loudly to make himself heard above the hum of the well-oiled diners. The waiter nodded and disappeared.

‘Blimey, babe, sounds like you’re in the mood for staying up.’ Blue winked, feeling a little drunk but on the whole faring well. He was enjoying himself tonight. He couldn’t quite believe how close he and Richie had become in such a short space of time. At first he had a nagging feeling that it was almost too good to be true, until Tiger had told him to stop being so paranoid and just to enjoy it.

Blue found it cute that even though Richie was gorgeous
and
cool as hell he was still keen to learn, and because of the age thing, not to mention being a good six inches taller, Blue found himself being rather protective of his new beau. He had even offered to use some of his old magazine contacts to snag Richie a position assisting a high-profile editorial photographer, which would help Richie get his foot in the door of the notoriously fickle fashion industry. Blue had never heard of the photographer Richie was currently assisting, and he had been quite brutal in explaining that just because one has a camera, it does not entitle one to call oneself a photographer. But despite Blue’s generally catty and cynical commentary on life, he was just a simple soul who liked to look after people, and since Tiger seemed to be distancing herself even from her inner circle of late, Richie filled the gap a treat.

One thing that particularly pleased Blue was that Tiger approved of Richie. Even though she and Blue stayed out of each other’s love affairs, Blue still valued her opinion highly, and since Richie was shaping up nicely to be ‘the one’, it would be a logistical nightmare if she didn’t get on with him. Luckily Richie seemed to love Tiger too; in fact he had spent all evening asking about her.

As the last glass of wine really kicked in, Blue felt a little morose as the hubbub continued around him. Talking about Tiger all evening meant that he suddenly realised how much he had missed their closeness the last few weeks.
She had definitely withdrawn a little. Even though Tiger had always liked to be able to retreat into herself from time to time, and would often have an introspective few days, she’d definitely not been firing on all cylinders for quite a few weeks now. At first Blue had assumed she just wanted a few days’ breathing space, but she had become increasingly distant. She was starting to be a little snappy with her team, even Gravy. Lewis had been furious about last week’s incident with Johnnie, and had incorrectly assumed she had been completely drunk. Ever the professional, Tiger had fared well in front of the press in Vegas last week, yet seemed almost a ghost of herself when she wasn’t performing for the cameras. Blue was particularly bothered about her losing two dress sizes. He knew exactly where every single garment was in the dressing room at home, and he knew she had sneaked a couple of her gowns and costumes out to alter them a couple of days ago. Tiger Starr was known for her hourglass silhouette, and to lose it would be commercial suicide. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he felt like she was pushing him away when she most needed to be protected, and he didn’t like it one bit. In the past they had shared everything and he knew that they had both shared secrets with each other that they’d never tell a living soul, even a lover. In all these years he’d never known her to be like this. He wanted his soul mate back.

‘Penny for them?’ asked Richie

‘Huh?’

‘Penny for your thoughts.’

‘Oh, sorry. What were you saying?’

‘Nothing, you’ve just been deep in thought for a few minutes.’ Richie smiled, as the waiter returned with the brandies and coffee.

‘Oh. I guess it’s all this talk of Tiger. I’ve just realised that we haven’t really spoken properly – you know, as best buddies – for a while now.’ Blue took a hit of Remy.

‘Is she okay?’ asked Richie.

‘Well, that’s the thing. I shouldn’t say this, but …’ Blue looked around to see who might be listening in. He needn’t have worried, the kind of celebrities who were dining were far too interested in talking loudly about themselves to notice if a herd of wildebeest came sweeping through the room, let alone what someone might be saying on the next table. Tiger would have hated this crowd.

‘It’s okay, you know you can trust me,’ reassured Richie.

‘Well, I guess I can tell you. I’m worried about her.’

‘Why? Does she need help?’

‘That’s the thing. I don’t know. She’s not talking to anyone. I don’t think for one minute it was the bad press that upset her. She’s way too tough to let that dent her armour. But I just have this nagging feeling …’

‘Go on?’

‘She got a few letters. You know, anonymous ones. They started a few months ago.’

‘Threatening?’

‘Yes and no.’

‘How many?

‘Well, I’m not sure. I just have a suspicion she’s had a lot more than the few she’s told me about. It’s weird, at first she wasn’t bothered and laughed it all off as the work of a practical joker. I was the one who was more worried. But now … you see, the thing is … I know she has—’ Blue paused dramatically. ‘Oh God! What am I saying! It must be the alcohol!’ He drained his Remy and looked panicked.

‘Oh darling, relax! You can confide in me,’ said Richie softly, placing a hand on Blue’s arm comfortingly. Blue felt better for the gesture.

‘Waiter? Another large Remy for my boyfriend please,’ ordered Richie, smiling caringly as he squeezed Blue’s arm affectionately. ‘Now, what were you saying?’

Plumes of hot sparks and metal shot into the air against a postmodern symphony of hammering and drilling which echoed through the cavernous workshop. Tiger gingerly picked her way across the floor through the half-built constructions and industrial flotsam and jetsam. She tiptoed nimbly on her heels towards the enormous gilt rocking horse over in the corner, carefully leading the way for Pepper to follow daintily behind her. A peal of loud wolf-whistles rang out as the banging ceased.

‘Couldn’t they be more imaginative?’ tutted Pepper, patting her neat white ponytail and looking around at the paint-stained sculptors, welders and workmen who had all downed tools to take in the glorious view. ‘They should be letting off an air raid siren for you, dear,’ she sighed at Tiger who was in full bombshell mode, wearing the tightest of black Chanel dresses and showing off a smooth pale caramel
décolletage
, with the fabric nipping in tightly around her teeny waist and elegantly tapering to a trim of chan-tilly lace at the knee. Her coiffure was fluffed to full volume, softly bouncing at her shoulders and she wore matching baby-pink hand-stitched kid leather gloves. Nude seamed stockings and five-inch pale-pink ponyskin
stilettos with mink pompoms at the heels completed the knock-out ensemble.

‘Howdy,’ said the sculptor working on the rocking horse as he turned towards Tiger and pushed his goggles up onto his crop of thick, blond wavy hair.

‘Wow,’ replied Tiger and Pepper in unison, Pepper craning her neck to take in the beauty of the huge prop behind him, Tiger running her eyes up and down the sculptor.

‘You’re new here?’ asked Tiger as she immediately racked her brains to think if she had any other props that needed to be made any time soon.

‘Just started. Bob,’ he proffered, quickly taking off his protective gloves and holding out a mucky hand.

‘Tiger,’ ‘Pepper,’ replied the ladies in turn, each accepting the grease-stained handshake warmly.

‘Tiger, just look at this. This is to
die
for,’ breathed Pepper, moving immediately towards the horse, and running her hands over its planed and flocked flanks. Tiger’s eyes were locked onto Bob. He ripped his gaze away to address Pepper.

‘Oh, I was just smoothing off the last few inches of the rockers with the angle grinder. Watch your hands if you’re getting close, ma’am, I wouldn’t want you to accidentally hurt yourself on a jagged edge now,’ said Bob, rattling the weighty rockers. The horse shuddered a little in its rearing pose. ‘There’s still some wax rub on the gold leaf scrolls too, so watch your clothes.’

‘Thank you, dear, I’ll be careful,’ replied Pepper, slowly walking around the prop, patting it as she went. Tiger immediately slipped off her heels and hitched up her skirt.

‘May I?’ she asked.

‘Why sure, ma’am, it needs christening!’ laughed Bob, tucking his thumbs into his belt loops and standing back to admire Tiger mounting the horse. She swung her leg up and over and landed in the saddle with a satisfying thump. A murmur swept around the workshop. Bob threw a look over at the other prop makers who all cleared their throats and found something important to fiddle with at their workbenches.

‘Whoa, I’m struggling here,’ laughed Tiger, kicking her legs frantically, while the horse threw her back.

‘Ah, yes, the balance. That’s something we have to fine tune while you’re here. It’s just a matter of an inch to the front or back, to find where your centre of gravity is in the saddle.’ Bob pushed her forwards in the saddle gently, his big warm hands almost encircling her waist. Tiger’s back arched automatically. ‘Then if the horse lists to one side once you’re off, since it’s not symmetrical in its rearing position, we’ll just conceal some weights in the rockers so it sits dead centre when it’s at rest. It’s the final little tweak. It’ll be ready by the end of the day.’

‘Hmm, they’ve thought of everything, darling,’ said Pepper, as Bob enlisted two lucky welders to help him shift Tiger and the horse into the exact position of perfect balance. Once it was all bolted firmly into place, Tiger let
out an almighty ‘yee-hah’ and flung herself back and forth on the prop. Pepper watched the horse rocking majestically on its arc, its sparkling jet crystals on the velvety finish winking in the light. The horse had flaring nostrils and bared teeth, and its mane swished as it moved. Pepper half expected it to whinny and bray.

‘Oh, Tiger dear, it’s magnificent. You look like one of the horsemen of the apocalypse,’ she gasped. ‘You should have trumpets and pipers and banging drums when you enter the stage, darling. Prince Romano is going to love it.’

‘Oh you have to try it, Pepper, it’s so much fun up here!’ squealed Tiger like a child in a toy shop, her troubles forgotten for a moment.

‘What? You’re joking, dear, I don’t do animals or wheel-chairs, thank you.’

‘Wow, this is going to be so much fun, I can’t wait for the show,’ enthused Tiger, looking down at Bob and grinning from ear to ear.

‘Neither can I,’ he murmured under his breath. Pepper heard him. She regarded Bob with a wry look – she recognised a smitten young man when she saw one.

A smile curled across her face as she fondly remembered her days touring the States when the men used to chase after her like wolves on heat. Back then she and Coco had worked out a great way to convert the amorous attentions of their lovers into cash by way of General Motors stock which they requested from all the men they
dated. Tiger’s grandma Coco had wisely bought a huge brownstone just off Central Park next to The Pierre off the proceeds. Pepper, the more hedonistic of the two, had drunk most of her income away in New York’s Chelsea Hotel with Dylan Thomas in the early ’50s, although in a moment of sobriety she had the good sense to buy a small
pied à terre
in London’s King’s Road in the ’60s before her youth, the stocks, and the money ran out.

The King’s Road had changed somewhat since then, and in addition to the Sloaney young ponies, it now saw gold diggers, celebrities, investment bankers and smug tweed-wearing Californian wannabe’s in its streets who pushed past Pepper as though she were some wizened old dear. They were too arrogant and self absorbed to consider that Pepper could tell them stories about her life that would make their jaws drop, moreover that she could drink them under the table in five seconds flat. Pepper could certainly teach some of those phonies a thing or two about how to be a
real
lady. If ever there was a woman after Ava Gardner’s heart, it was Pepper.