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‘How’d you melt the arse off that one?’ Scot continues, digging his own grave. ‘The ice queen, ain’t she? Least that’s what they say in the office.’
The fickle finger of fate drags down my perspiring spine as I attempt to compose myself, to stop myself from shoving Scott’s glass down his throat. Synapses fire, filling my head with deceptions and scenarios; ways to extricate Louise from this fuck up. To not cause a scene.
Whatever, I know I’m right royally fucked.
Louise places her fingers on my forearm, bringing my gaze back from boring holes in this fuck. She can probably hear my molars disintegrating under the pressure of staying calm.
‘Not here, please,’ she says softly, reading my expression and stunning me.
My face feels numb, though my temples pound. ‘Darling, I need to talk to Scott,’ I say as calmly as possible. ‘Would you mind?’ It isn’t a question I want the answer to, lifting her hand from my arm. I kiss her fingertips in a promise of calm.
Louise opens her mouth, and sensing it filling with questions, I cut her off, kissing her long and hard. I could be a mistake and fuel for the weapon Scott seems intent on swinging my way, but I can’t help it. She’s like a cool relief to a starving man. As she pulls back, her eyes are questioning.
‘I won’t be long,’ I repeat—a dismissal I hate. I pull myself away from her side feeling like the biggest, lying twat that ever lived. Her expression causes my chest to ache, but the worst of it is the realisation that I might hurt her so much more by the evening’s end.
Should’ve told her. Should’ve explained.
LOUISE
As Dan leads the drunk away, I catch him leering at me over his shoulder as he mumbles something aboutthe quiet ones always being the worst. Then, much clearer he says, ‘She been in The Lion’s Den yet?’
By then, they’re too far away for me to hear Dan’s response. And he doesn’t turn back.
My head swims, filled with half-formed ideas and notions as I wave away the waiter and his tray of champagne flutes. I need a clear head—and some explanations. But for now, I’ll make do with an escape from this room.
Outside, cars still arrive via the gravelled driveway, the front of the house lantern lit. I have no intention of talking to anyone, so head down the sandstone steps, and skirt around the front of the building using the shadows as a shield.
‘Lord! You scared the life out of me!’ Flo exclaims. I’d nearly walk into her as she makes her way in the opposite direction; obviously on her way back from a clandestine cigarette. ‘What are you doing skulking about?’
‘Same thing as you,’ I answer distractedly. Much like myself, Flo abhors these kinds of affairs.
‘But you don’t smoke.’
For the first time in my life, I wish I did. I can’t answer, my head full of other things.
‘I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages,’ Flo intones, pulling my stiff form in for a one-armed hug. ‘I almost feel bad charging you rent.’ She smiles at the absurdity of the statement:almost.
‘I’ve been busy. Spending a lot of time with Dan.’ I look over my shoulder, still trying to make sense of what could be going on. Why hasn’t he followed me out?
Flo frowns and mumbles something along the lines of, ‘I thought as much.’
‘Aren’t you going to ask how we are?’ Or about my sex life?’ It’s not like her to miss an opportunity of questioning.
‘None of my business, Lou.’ She shrugs one nonchalant shoulder, her gaze on the darkened lawns.
‘Because you know, don’t you? You know him.’ Somehow. Someway.
‘It’s the guy from the club.’ Her response is so flat, so emotionless.
‘You know him,’ I say fishing. Fishing with an empty net. ‘But what else do you know?’
Flo’s head shots up, her expression changing in an instant. ‘Sweets, whatever are you talking about?’
Something about the delivery of her words makes me uneasy. Her demeanour is almost the same as that of Belle. Standing in the doorway earlier, the woman had tried so hard to project superiority. Deflecting. Truth avoidance. Call it what you will. I know a lie when I hear one, I’d like to think.
I suddenly remember the reason I’m outside; my strange encounter with Scott, and the pieces that don’t quite fit into place. And as Flo makes some excuse to return, I grab her arm before she can pass.
‘Cut the crap, Flo. Just tell me.’ My fingers grip her elbow; I’ve no intention of letting go. ‘What am I missing?’
