“I hear you, buddy.”
“Sir will meet you in the car park. You brought your car, didn’t you?”
“I did.”
“Good, because Sir had to come in Mummy’s car, and I doubt she’s going to let me take it, especially when I tell her I’m leaving.”
Rick laughed and strode off to find his host. He was on his way back towards the car park when Annabelle appeared, stepping out from behind a blooming gardenia bush like a barracuda from behind a mound of coral.
She pouted a little, obviously mindful that a small pout was cute but a full-on pout was just nasty. “Going already, Richard?”
“Rick.”
“Rick.” Gliding forward, she laid perfectly manicured fingers on his coat sleeve. “Must you?”
“All work and no play make Rick a dull boy,” he replied lightly. “But work needs to be attended anyway.”
Work, hmmm?” She brushed a speck of non-existent lint from his arm. Obviously she liked the sound of that.
Oh yes, The Barracuda would love to hear that her prospective prey was working hard. No work, no money, no good lifestyle. Couldn’t have that, nu-uh.
“I’ll let you go, then.” She moved a little closer, and the scent of her expensive perfume was thick and heavy and nearly burned a hole in his nostrils. “How about we meet for lunch next week?”
How about we don’t? “That’d be nice, Annabelle, but I’m afraid I need to devote myself to my new position and settle in before that pleasantry can be considered.” His insincere smile was all charm. “May I suggest another week?”
She pounced on that statement like a ravenous dog on a bone. “The week following? Absolutely. Wed the twenty-sixth, say eight pm at Mason’s?”
Damn it. His smile was all teeth. “Until then.”
She smiled warmly, squeezed his arm lightly, and walked passed him back to the party.
As Rick approached the car, Tim looked up from where he was leaning against the door. “Let me guess. Annabelle?”
“Teeth like a barracuda.” Rick pressed the key control and the locks on the car clicked up smoothly. “Got those teeth into me and now I damned well have a dinner date with her.”
Tim guffawed as he folded his long, lean length into the car.
“Unless something was to happen to get me out of the dinner date.” Starting the car, Rick drove along the circular drive and down towards the big, wrought iron gates that stood open at the end of the long drive.
“Yep,” Tim said. “We need a drink.”
“Or two.”
“Why bother with that? Let’s get them rolling in.”
Hearing a sombre note in his friend’s voice, Rick glanced at him. “You all right? Is something wrong?”
“Not at all. Drive on, James, Sir wants his drinks and a nice time with a like-minded friend.”
“Mummy issues?”
“When is it not?” Tim shook his head. “Let’s not talk about it.”
“Fair enough.”
They spoke about the pros and cons of human patients versus animal patients while driving the distance through the traffic, and then Rick pulled into the motel car park. From there they walked across the road to the bar on the other side, claimed a couple of bar stools and settled down to enjoy themselves.
It was late by the time they left the bar.
~*~
Chewing her bottom lip, Cherry peeked out the curtains to the dark car park beyond. No car lights, no slamming doors. No man. No Damien.
Dropping the curtain back in place, she reached for the glass of orange juice then changed her mind. If she drank, she’d want to pee, and peeing with a strange man waiting for her wasn’t a good thing. Not that she had a man here waiting for her.
She looked at her watch. Eleven pm on Saturday twelfth at the Indigo Motel. Right date, right time and right place. And so far she was here alone. No Damien. Weren’t escorts supposed to be punctual? Then again, Saturday night, he could be caught in traffic. Would he have his own car or come by taxi?
Oh God, what if the taxi driver was someone she knew? Cherry almost panicked until she remembered she had only the light on in the bathroom. The glow coming through the partially opened door cast the room in shadows. No one who saw her silhouette in the doorway would know it was her.
Calming down, she took a small sip of the orange juice and studied herself once more in the mirror. The dimness of the room meant Damien would be able to see her, but not too clearly. She didn’t want him to see her body with the overly-generous curves and dimples, too closely, and she most certainly didn’t want him to see her face too much. God forbid he came in as a patient one day!
Nope, they were doing this in the dimness. She’d decided that for safety reasons. Safety reasons being she wasn’t going to risk coming face-to-face with him in the hospital ward and have him saying cheerfully, “Hey Ms Jones! How’s your non-virginal vagina doing these days? Need another boink soon?”