Chapter 26
26
Fuck it and fuck her! He’d told her more than he’d told anyone and it still wasn’t enough! Now suddenly, she had a conscience! Now she didn’t want to be with him because he was going to have a meaningless scrap of gold on his finger. Granted, the gold was the best that money could buy, but the cost didn’t matter when there was no feeling behind it. And there wasn’t; why couldn’t she see that? This wasn’t how he wanted things to go. He wanted to be with her, every second they had here. He wanted to show her Spain, play her the songs he’d written for her. There were twenty-five of those and counting. He wanted to make love to her in the sand. He wanted to tell her he loved her.
He stopped pacing the villa and looked at his reflection in the patio doors. He expected to see someone different and was disappointed. He loved her. This wasn’t just about lust. It had gone way beyond that and he couldn’t let it go.
‘Hey, George! You’ll never guess! Adam and me only came last in the dancing contest! Show her what we won, Adam!’ Marisa exclaimed as she, Adam and Helen entered the villa.
George was on her fourth bottle of beer and second packet of paprika crisps. Quinn had dropped her a decent enough distance away from the gates of La Manga Resort and she had blown a decent amount of euros on comfort food at the on-site supermarket.
‘Isn’t it great?’ Marisa said, producing a huge, bright-red sombrero.
‘I thought sombreros were native to Mexico, but according to Juan behind the bar, they all wear them in this area of Spain,’ Helen spoke with a wine-induced giggle.
‘Oh Mother, he was trying to chat you up! He would have said elephants were native to Spain if he thought it was going to get him a quick one out the back,’ Marisa replied.
‘He was married and so am I!’ Helen said, offended.
‘And your point is?’
‘You OK?’ Adam asked George.
‘Yeah. You know what, I’m going to go and get changed and get in the pool,’ she said, standing up and heading to the stairs.
‘What? Like now? There’s absolutely no sun out there and it’s like dark,’ Marisa commented.
George didn’t reply but hurried upstairs to her room. There was the gorgeous bikini, dry and lying on the bed, waiting for her. She couldn’t wear it now, not after the row she had with Quinn. He’d been so angry, he’d driven at full speed all the way back to the golf resort and hadn’t even said goodbye when she’d left him. That wasn’t how she wanted things to end.
Dressed in her plain, black swimming costume, she came back downstairs, went straight outside and jumped into the pool where she began to thrash out length after length.
‘Is she like all right?’ Marisa asked as the three of them looked out of the patio doors at George motoring up and down the pool.
‘She’s been acting weird since the briefing,’ Adam added .
‘I expect she’s just getting nervous about tomorrow, seeing the so-called catering wagon, meeting the staff. It’s a big thing for Finger Food, isn’t it? Lots of anticipation and the chance to show her creations to the world,’ Helen reminded them.
‘Yeah I know, but she’s totally nailed the menu and, with all those helpers, it’s going to be a piece of piss. I mean cake, a piece of cake,’ Marisa said quickly, noticing Helen’s eyebrows rising.
‘I’ll go and speak to her,’ Adam said, opening the door.
‘Perhaps she just needs to be on her own for a bit,’ Helen suggested.
‘If we leave her alone, she’s going to swim the equivalent of the English Channel,’ Adam replied as he ignored Helen’s advice and stepped out onto the terrace.
‘Now that swimsuit is definitely Peacocks,’ Marisa remarked with a nod, looking out of the doors.
George put her head under the water and powered down the pool. She just wanted to carry on swimming until she felt better. She was in an impossible situation and she didn’t know what to do about it. She wasn’t sure she could do anything about it.
She came up for air at the end of the pool and noticed Adam standing at the edge, looking at her.
‘You in training or something? Think you could almost get into the Olympics if you carry on doing lengths in that sort of time,’ he remarked.
George stopped and stood up to face him. She was completely out of breath and feeling the effects of swimming under the influence of four bottles of San Miguel, plus the wine she’d had in the restaurant earlier.
He handed her a towel and she accepted it.
‘What’s up?’ he asked, offering her a hand out of the water .
‘Nothing. Just fancied a swim,’ George replied, towelling off her hair as Adam sat down at the table.
‘Yeah, OK. You’ve never been a great one for lying. Who’s pissed you off?’ Adam continued.
‘No one,’ George insisted.
‘Pull the other one. I know your pissed-off expression when I see it and it’s right there, plastered all over your face.’
‘Yeah well, perhaps I don’t want to talk about it,’ George snapped back at him.
‘God! That’s what you get like when Mum’s been having a go at you. She hasn’t phoned, has she?’
‘What, to check I haven’t left you out in the sun to fry or poisoned your dinner? I think she’s actually got too much on her own plate at the moment,’ George retorted.
‘Whoa! This is bad,’ Adam responded.
George let out a sigh and wrapped the towel around her shoulders. It was a balmy evening but she was starting to feel the cold now she had stopped swimming. However, it wasn’t just the temperature; she was cold on the inside too right now.
‘Look, about earlier. I shouldn’t have said what I said about Marisa,’ George admitted.
‘I said some pretty stupid things too,’ Adam said, avoiding her gaze.
‘Yeah, well I was wrong to say what I said. She’s a lovely girl. I like her a lot and if you like her then you go for it,’ George said seriously.
‘Mum doesn’t like her; she thinks she’s common,’ Adam remarked.
‘Yeah? Well, that’s what she said about Paul,’ George spoke.
‘Paul?’ Adam queried.
‘Oh, a boyfriend I had when I was younger,’ George replied.
‘You loved him?’ Adam asked.
‘Yeah, I loved him. ’
‘What happened?’
‘He moved away,’ George spoke.
‘Didn’t you keep in touch? I mean if you loved each other then…’
‘We were young and you know, it probably wouldn’t have lasted anyway. Things like that don’t, do they?’
‘Why didn’t Mum like him?’
‘Because he was fun. Because he kept me out late and took me to parties. Because he had a motorbike. Because he made me smile – I don’t know – that and a hundred other reasons,’ George said with another sigh.
‘I wish she wasn’t so black and white all the time. I mean, I’m not sure I would want to introduce Marisa to her, you know, as my girlfriend – well, if she wants to be my girlfriend,’ Adam babbled.
‘Want my advice? Don’t bother. She won’t hold back in telling you what she thinks. Believe me, you could bring home the Virgin Mary and she would still see Katie Price,’ George spoke her mind.
‘Maybe, being ill and everything might have mellowed her. Does that sound really harsh?’ Adam asked.
‘No, I know what you mean and yeah, maybe it will mellow her,’ George agreed.
‘So are we friends again?’ Adam asked hopefully.
‘There was never any doubt about that,’ George answered.
‘You worried about tomorrow? Getting to grips with that catering wagon?’ Adam asked.
‘No, it’ll be fine and if it isn’t then so what?’ George said with a shrug.
‘Want a coffee?’ Adam offered.
‘Yeah, that would be nice. I won’t be long, just want to stay out here a bit,’ George said as Adam stood up and prepared to go indoors.
‘OK. ’
He went back inside and George swept her wet hair back and looked out over the ocean. She had only been in Spain a day and things had started out so well. How had it ended up like this? She had feelings for Quinn, strong feelings, but it was so long since she had felt anything real for anyone, she didn’t know whether she was interpreting them properly. What if he was just a passing infatuation? What if there was no substance to it? But on the other hand, what if he was the best thing that had ever happened to her? What if they could make a proper relationship out of their intensity? It could be special. Did she want to turn her back on that? And could she really let him go, married or not?
‘Hey, George! Come in here! Mum’s actually worked out how to turn on the expensive TV and there’s Quinn Blake’s latest video on. He’s not wearing much!’ Marisa called excitedly.
‘Coming straight in,’ George replied.
Great! There was absolutely no getting away from him, whether she wanted to or not. He was absolutely everywhere.
Marisa had started an impromptu karaoke party, belting out tunes from VH1 using the television remote control as a pretend microphone. Adam accompanied her on makeshift drums using two pens and the coffee table. There was only so much Lady Gaga you could take in one night and George had headed for bed just before 11.00p.m.
Not that she could sleep. It was now almost 1.00a.m. and she had tossed and turned from one side of the king-sized bed to the other at least half a dozen times. It was hot, she had yet to work out how the air conditioning operated and she could hear crickets and other bugs, rubbing bits of themselves outside.
She closed her eyes and concentrated on the softness of her pillow. Then she heard a tapping noise. Fantastic! She turned over in bed again and pulled the covers over her head.
There was more tapping and she threw the covers off and sat up, listening in the dark.
More tapping and George realised it was coming from the window. She got out of bed, threw her t-shirt over her head and cautiously approached. She opened the glass and peered out through the shutters.
‘Can I come in?’ Quinn whispered.
‘What are you doing here?’ George questioned.
‘Apologising,’ he replied.
George opened up the shutters and, in seconds, Quinn had hauled himself up onto the window sill and leapt into the room.
She didn’t say anything; she just looked at him, her heart already beating hard in her chest. He always had this effect on her. It was like someone had pumped her full of adrenalin.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said simply, swallowing nervously.
‘Me too,’ George told him.
Quinn kissed her, holding her tight to him, and George didn’t even try to resist. She couldn’t and more importantly, she didn’t want to.
‘Can you stay?’ she whispered as he put his hands under her t-shirt, his fingers tracing the line of her breasts.
‘Try and stop me,’ Quinn answered, kissing her again.
George pulled his shirt over his head and steered him towards her bed.
Maybe it was time she stopped thinking about other people and started to think about what she wanted. If she wanted Quinn, she could have him. She just needed to tell him how she felt. Was that so hard?
Quinn kissed her slowly, so slowly, she thought she would combust if he didn’t touch her again. It was like the inside of her mouth was being caressed by silk. It was sensual, it was sexy and it was making her ache with longing.
Outside, it was starting to get light and they hadn’t been to sleep. It had been agony trying to stop herself from shouting out when he made her come. She had gritted her teeth, buried her head into his chest and clung to him, trying to hold in what wanted to explode.
He stroked her hair away from her face and lightly kissed her lips.
‘I’m sorry for being an arsehole last night,’ he said, looking at her with his piercing blue eyes.
‘It’s just hard. I don’t know what to do. I’m trying to do the right thing and wanting to do the wrong thing,’ George told him.
‘I know and I was being a selfish prick,’ Quinn stated.
‘I love being with you, Quinn,’ George blurted out.
The second the words were out of her mouth, she immediately felt self-conscious for sharing her feelings with him. She could feel her cheeks blazing and she avoided his gaze.
Quinn smiled and lifted her chin with his finger, forcing her to look at him.
‘Even though I’m a selfish prick?’ Quinn asked.
‘Yeah. I must be a masochist,’ George answered.
‘A sexy masochist, though,’ Quinn said, rolling over on top of her.
‘It’s almost six; you’d better go. Helen’s an early riser,’ George told him, enjoying how he felt on top of her.
‘Me too,’ he replied with a grin.
George laughed.
‘Not going to make me breakfast? I’m a breakfast lover, by the way. Totally the best meal of the day,’ Quinn informed her.
‘I thought you musicians survived on alcohol and composition alone. ’
‘Don’t be crazy. Alcohol, composition and eggs over easy,’ Quinn said, his fingers tracing her breastbone.
George let out a laugh and then stifled it with her hand as she heard movement coming from another room of the villa. She looked at Quinn, wide-eyed with concern.
‘Maybe I should stay for breakfast and invite some of the paparazzi up here. Call a halt to this whole mad thing,’ Quinn spoke.
‘Shh, someone will hear you,’ George hissed.
‘Do you care?’
‘Yes!’
‘Why? If everyone finds out about us, the wedding’s off,’ Quinn said.
‘But that isn’t what you want. Not really.’
‘Isn’t it?’
‘If it was, you wouldn’t have got yourself into this position in the first place.’
‘Maybe I didn’t have a choice.’
‘Everyone has a choice.’
‘We’ll agree to disagree.’
‘Look, I don’t want to argue. I don’t want to waste another second arguing and I’m not the sort of girl who issues ultimatums,’ George told him.
‘OK, no arguing. So what shall we do instead? Ah, let me think… Yes, OK, got an idea,’ Quinn said, kissing her again.
‘You have to go,’ George repeated, kissing him but holding back slightly.
‘I want to see what Marisa looks like first thing in the morning before she puts her eyeliner on,’ Quinn joked.
‘Believe me, you don’t,’ George answered.
There was another sound of movement and George slipped out from underneath Quinn and found her t-shirt and pants. She began putting them on while he watched her from the bed .
‘Where will Taylor think you are?’ George enquired.
‘At the villa.’
‘Well, isn’t she there?’
‘No, she’s at another villa with Carleen and Saffron. Stupid bitches they are. I think they share the one brain and play paper, rock, scissors to decide who’s getting it for the day. Taylor thinks it’s bad luck to see each other while the wedding preparations are going on,’ Quinn said.
‘So you’re there on your own?’
‘As if Roger would let that happen. No, Michael’s there.’
‘So where does he think you are?’
‘He’s not an early riser and he was paying quite a lot of attention to Paco last night at dinner,’ Quinn told her.
‘He’s in charge of tablecloths,’ George remarked.
‘What?’
‘Nothing, it doesn’t matter.’
Suddenly, there was a knock on the bedroom door.
‘George? You awake? Mum says to tell you it’s almost seven. Got to get to the catering wagon just before nine,’ Marisa called through the door.
‘Er, yeah, I’m awake, just getting up, thanks,’ George called back.
Quinn stifled a laugh, holding a pillow against his face.
‘Oh and George – can I borrow some of your foundation? Mine seems to melt in this heat and I don’t want Belch to see me looking like a total minger,’ Marisa continued.
‘Yes, sure. I’ll bring it to you when I’m up. Not actually dressed at the moment so don’t come in,’ George exclaimed hurriedly .
‘Oh OK, see you in a minute then. Adam’s trying to make omelettes and Mum’s instructing him. Bless her, she sounds just like Delia,’ Marisa spoke with a laugh.
‘I’ll be five minutes,’ George called back.
She listened, straining her ears to make sure Marisa was no longer outside her door.
‘She’s hot for Belch,’ Quinn remarked with a smile.
‘She’s young. She doesn’t understand that musicians have a girl in every town,’ George answered, coming back to the bed and sitting down.
‘That’s what you thought about me,’ Quinn reminded her.
‘And I was right. But that’s not all; Adam likes her,’ George told him.
‘Really? He seemed quite switched on,’ Quinn said.
‘He is switched on, but you can’t help who you fall for. Besides, she’s a nice girl – a little over the top maybe – but she’s harmless. Anyway, why are we having this conversation? You need to leave. Now,’ George reminded him.
‘And here I was thinking I might get omelettes.’
‘I can’t believe it’s almost seven. There must be something wrong with my watch,’ George said, looking at it and tapping the dial.
‘Meeting your staff today then,’ Quinn remarked, still unmoving.
‘Yeah. I hope they’re capable of more than washing up,’ George told him.
‘I’m sure Taylor will have hired the best,’ Quinn commented.
‘I have very high standards,’ George said.
‘I know,’ Quinn replied, kissing her firmly.
‘You’d better go,’ George told him reluctantly .
‘Yeah I’d better go. I’m supposed to be meeting Taylor this morning along with the florists and the organist at that hideous castle,’ Quinn said with a sigh.
‘The castle you had built. The castle you’re getting married in,’ George reminded.
‘I didn’t build it! Nothing about this wedding is how I’d do things,’ Quinn told her.
‘You’d better go,’ George said again.
‘Yeah, I’d better. Meet me later?’
‘When?’
‘I’ll message you,’ Quinn said, kissing her.
‘OK.’
With that, Quinn bounded out of bed and pulled on his jeans. He threw his shirt over his head and headed towards the window.
‘See you,’ he said, smiling at her.
‘Bye,’ George answered.
He pulled back the glass, opened the metal shutters and hopped out.
‘George! Omelettes are ready!’ Marisa yelled from downstairs.