“Yes, Mr Morgan.” She smiled.
“Make it a great night, Topaz.”
Faye Devere, larger than bastard life in my fucking office. Anger twitched in my temples. She’d break and leave again, back to Italy for Prosecco on the terrace where she’d regale people with tales of her London adventure. Fantastic, darling, wonderful!
A flutter of eyelashes might bowl over those brownnosers in Venice, flouncing about at some writing retreat or whatever the fuck they go there for, but her charm would cut short shrift back here on home turf. It would cut short shrift with me. I wondered if she was sitting comfortable at my bar, kicking her stilettos up with a smile on her perfect little mouth. How nice to play the big I am without any of the real graft that goes along with it. That’s all it was to her. A stupid game.
I’ll work the bar. As if the woman had any backbone for a real shift. I should’ve done what should’ve been done years ago; put her over my fucking knee and tanned her tight little ass until she learnt some manners.
And then do it again for the hell of it.
I should’ve done it when she announced she was leaving for Italy in the first place, told her the club didn’t have time for her frivolous fucking jollies and shone a little light on her priorities. Maybe then she’d have stayed home where she belongs. Belonged.
I pulled the vintage whisky from my desk drawer, complete with tumbler, and poured myself a triple.
***
Faye
Stubborn, self-righteous prick. His presence was heavy at the best of times, always had been. He stomped through life with a big old fucking stick up his arse to match the plum in his mouth. I’d forgotten the strength of his moods. If I hadn’t, maybe I’d have called first.
The thought was ridiculous. If I’d have called ahead, all of the locks would have been changed.
To prove the point, the supply drawers behind the bar were locked up tight. Seemingly the years hadn’t mellowed him into any less of a suspicious control freak. Only the bottom drawer was open, filled with novelty dick straws and Explicit membership cards. He’d had the place rebranded in my absence. The red slash of the new logo looked good.
Andrew Morgan, Director.
No mention of me. I was slipping them back in the drawer when I noticed the frame underneath. My heart leapt in recognition, pulling it out with shaky fingers. I wiped off a sheen of dust to find my own face smiling out at me. Opening night, my arms wrapped tight around Andy’s waist, head on his shoulder as spotlights glowed overhead.
I propped it up on the bar with tears in my eyes. So much promise.
Ruined.
But it wasn’t ruined, I was here. He couldn’t push me away forever.
Topaz ferried me to the customer side of the bar as she got the place ready for shift. She didn’t ask me to move, but her body language said it all. I couldn’t stomach another showdown, so took a seat, eyeing up her work as she chalked the specials on the board. “What on earth is a Garnet Crow?”
“One of our more unique beverages. Wanna try one?”
I gave her a smile. “It would be rude not to sample.”
She assembled a brutal looking purple concoction that made my nostrils burn. Exactly what the doctor ordered.
“You like?”
I managed a nod, and she presented a milky white drink with a cherry on top. “People normally follow it up with one of these.”
“A Screaming Orgasm?”
“One of Mr Morgan’s inventions.”
I took a sip. “It’s nice. Mr Morgan’s orgasms are really something.”
I saw the hint of a blush, the lowering of her eyes. She hadn’t fucked him, but she wanted to. She really wanted to. A pang of jealousy knotted my stomach before I shoved it away. Ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous.
“Is there anything else I can get you?”
I picked up my drink. “Another of these, please. Dutch courage.”
“You don’t look like you need it. The courage, I mean.” It wasn’t an insult, her eyes were friendly enough.
“Don’t be fooled by the exterior.” I took the opportunity to dig. “Did Andy... Mr Morgan... did he say much about me? Not today... just in general...”
She shook her head. “No.” My face must have dropped before I had chance to restore the mask. “But that doesn’t mean anything...” she added. “He may have talked to other people...”
“Or maybe not.”
“He works all the time. Talks a lot, but only about business.” She slid the next Orgasm across the bar. “If you did stay around, maybe things would be a bit different.”
I met her eyes with a flare of will. “I’m going to be staying around. For good.”