‘Hey,’ Cash says, turning me around. ‘Where do you think you’re going?’
‘Look. I know everybody wants to talk to you. I don’t blame them, you’re the star. I’ll just go back to the table and wait for you there.’
He frowns. ‘Fuck off, you will. You’re with me. If I wanted to spend the night with them I would have come on my own.’
‘Cash,’ someone calls.
‘See,’ I say softly.
‘No, I don’t see,’ he says, and putting his arm around my waist turns to the person who called him. Now that it is clear I am to be part of the conversation and cannot be pushed away, some of the group reluctantly include me in their discussion.
I understand that my voice is not welcome so I don’t say much. I just listen to what everyone else has to say and I try very hard not to watch Cash avidly or not to be distracted by his thumb slowly rubbing the small of my back.
Thank God for the shows! I watch them with something akin to astonishment. No wonder they have a ban on phones and cameras. Nobody back home would believe the ‘cabaret’ shows at The Box.
Two naked pre-op transvestites suck up the contents of a bottle of champagne into their butts and then spray it on the audience. No, you didn’t get that wrong. I did say butt and not mouth. Cash laughs at my shocked expression and tells me that is what it means to transcend the concept of indecency! There are also strip shows and a rather impressive fire eating stunt.
Eventually food is ordered. Everyone has burgers and fries since it seems to be the only thing on the menu. After the show, the DJ plays plenty of dance hits and the dance floor fills up. When Cash excuses himself to go to the toilet, Robbie, one of the other band members who is very drunk, turns to me and says, ‘Hey, Yoko.’ There is something nasty in his voice. That gets the attention of the whole table.
‘What did you call me?’ I ask.
‘Are you planning to be a Yoko?’ he says again, this time louder.
I feel my face start to burn. What the hell is a Yoko? All eyes at the table are on me. Some of them are openly sneering.
‘Leave her alone, Robbie,’ Gavin says.
‘No, let her answer,’ Octavia says, her jaw tight.
I sit forward, anger storming at my gut, but I keep my voice even. No way in hell am I going to let this bunch of spoilt, entitled, green-eyed, immature shits get to me. ‘I’d answer if I knew what you were talking about.’
‘You know Yoko Ono. John Lennon’s big mistake. The bitch split the Beatles up.’
With the exception of Gavin everyone at that table is hostile to me. The women are bubbling with jealousy and the men feel threatened that I will lure their precious superstar away from them. Cash and I have hardly started our relationship, it is at the just sex stage, and yet all these people see me as some kind of jezebel.
‘I have absolutely no intention of breaking the group up,’ I say clearly.
‘Let’s hope so,’ a man in a suit says sarcastically.
Octavia says nothing. Just looks at me with hatred glowing in her eyes. The intensity of her animosity shocks me and I turn blindly to the only person who seems to offer any kind of support.
Gavin winks at me as if to say I did OK, and I mouth thank you.
Everybody is deliberately watching me and trying to make me feel unwanted and unwelcome, so I casually pick up a cold fry from my plate and slip it daintily into my mouth, as if I don’t feel the waves of loathing coming at me. I chew it slowly, it tastes and feels like a wad of cold newspapers in my mouth. Then, without warning, everyone starts talking and laughing normally, I stare at them thinking I must be going mad when I feel a warm hand on my shoulder. Ah, they saw him arriving. I look up at him with relief.
‘Want to dance?’ he asks.
I can’t even speak. I just nod and get to my feet. He leads me to one of the little raised platforms all around the club that are being used as mini dance floors. Faded is playing when Cash takes me into his arms. He doesn’t dance like anyone else. He just holds me close to his body, his hands enveloping me, and moves slowly so the only thing between us is the music swirling around us. He looks into my eyes and smiles so long and slow and I think my heart will stop. All the while I can feel his erection press into my stomach.
‘That’s what you do,’ he whispers.
‘What?’ I whisper back.
He puts his forehead to mine. ‘You make me fade away.’
My brain refuses to believe. Impossible. ‘Not the adored, famous, sex god, Cash Hunter?’ I croak.
His lips are an inch away from mine. ‘Do you always have to be this annoying?’ he asks.
‘I call out bullshit as I smell it,’ I say.