Page 12 of Hard
‘Have faith. And finish your champagne.’
‘Oh, that’s not good. If I need alcohol, this plan is—’
‘The best kind of revenge. Now, tell me what attracted you to Robin.’
‘What the hell! Revenge isn’t therapy, Chas.’
‘Hear me out,’ she demands. ‘Come on. What was it about him that attracted you? What set your heart aflame?’
‘Well, he was British,’ I say with a shrug. ‘I loved his accent. Plus, he was sort of unassuming. And sweet. He made me laugh.’
‘Yes,’ she replies, sort of sniggering. ‘That skillset melt a girl’s pantieseverytime.’
‘Look, he was—’
‘Excuse me.’ From the other side of the table, our elderly tablemate speaks. If I had to guess, I’d say she’s aged somewhere in her seventies. Her back is ramrod straight, her silver-grey hair pulled into a neat chignon, and her clothing understated and elegant. She reminds me of a ballet teacher I once had as a child.
‘Whilst I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,’ she says when neither Chas nor I respond, ‘it is quite difficult not to. You, my dear,’ she says, waving a bony finger at Chastity, ‘are rather loud.’
Chas starts to laugh as I begin damage control.
‘I’m sorry if we disturbed you, but—’
‘Nothing of the kind,’ she says, waving one dismissive hand. ‘But I do believe I may have something of interest to impart, if you’ll allow.’ Chastity and I exchange glances—mine wary, hers still full of mirth. ‘I believe what you’re looking for is standing over there.’ One thin hand wrapped around her champagne flute gestures towards either the table housing the wedding party or the dance floor. It’s hard to tell. ‘If it’s virility you’re looking for, one need look no further than a man brave enough to wear a skirt.’
‘A skirt?’ Chas repeats, sounding delighted. I, meanwhile, wonder how much champagne is healthy for a septuagenarian. ‘That’s such an excellent idea!’
‘Yes,’ the old lady drawls with an air ofbeen there, done that. ‘I once thought so myself.’
‘She’s right,’ Chas begins, her words tumbling over themselves in her haste. ‘Lack of pants notwithstanding, he’s the antithesis of Robin.’
I look back blankly, not able to make sense of the words spilling from her berry-painted mouth.
‘Just look at him,’ she demands. So I do, and now that I am, it’s kind of hard to look away. ‘I’ll bet you couldn’t get skinny jeans to cover those legs. Or arse.’ True, the man looks kind of cut. ‘And look at that jawline—it has more structure than... than your life!’
‘A puddle has more structure than my life,’ I reply as though on autopilot because there’s something about the man standing at the edge of the dance floor dressed in a kilt. Something familiar, I think
‘I suggest you make haste,’ the old lady pipes up. ‘Yours aren’t the only eyes following him.’
‘Yes, get up there and flirt like crazy with him.’
‘I-I... ’ Can’t imagine anything less terrifying at this minute.
‘Drive Robin crazy just because you can.’
‘That’s... ’slightly less terrifying. And definitely more appealing.
‘And then take him upstairs,’ she says, feeding the champagne glass back into my hand. ‘And let the hot alpha man in a skirt stick his penis in you.’
Now, there is something you’ll never read on the front page of Fast Girl’s webpage.
Chapter 5
KEIR
In case anyone asks, you picked the Julia Snelling sterling silver and pearl cock ring from the gift registry.
Please tell me you’re joking...
