Chapter 5 #2
Get it together, Bella, I tell myself off.
‘I mean, I’m glad to see you again,’ I blush.
‘You’ve got a little…’ Jock points to the corner of his mouth.
‘Again?’ I ask as I poke my tongue out of the side of my mouth, regather whatever has gone astray during my feeding frenzy.
Jock’s eyes follow my tongue. He shakes his head, ‘No, you’ve missed it.’
I push my tongue out further between my bright red lips and run it from one corner of my mouth, slowly across my top lip to the other corner. He shakes his head again, ‘nope,’ he says, shaking his head slowly, his eyes not leaving my mouth, ‘you’ve still missed it.’
He raises his hand to my face and, resting his forefinger under my chin, he uses his thumb to gently wipe away whatever it was that had taken up residence on my face.
My cheeks betray me further, not only do they collect food that should be in my mouth, they are now blushing as red as a Japanese macaque’s arse.
‘Thanks,’ I mumble, dipping my head to give my cheeks time to get themselves under control. ‘Drink?’ I ask as we sit simultaneously.
The waiter must be a mind reader; no sooner had I said ‘drink’ than he was at our side.
‘I’ll have a red wine please,’ Jock requests, ‘and for the lady?’
‘I’ll have another gin and tonic, please,’ I ask.
‘Actually, I’ll have one of those as well,’ Jock smiles. ‘And could you bring some more of those snacks?’ He asks, pointing to the empty tiers.
The waiter scribbles on his pad and then scurries away.
‘Sorry, I was late. Not that we’d specified a time before you did a Cinderella on me last night, but I got held up,’ Jock apologises without giving any details of what he had been held up doing.
‘I didn’t do a Cinderella on you, I just lost track of the time,’ I reply defensively. ‘What held you up? Another big day of painting that has left no paint on your hands?’ I jest.
‘Something like that.’ Jock replies elusively as the waiter places two tall glasses and another tier of salty snacks in front of us. ‘Save some for me this time,’ Jock jibes as he picks up a stuffed olive and pops it into his mouth.
He picks up another and moves it slowly towards my face.
I part my lips in anticipation.
He momentarily rests the olive on my lower lip before pushing it and the end of his finger slowly into my mouth.
I quickly catch his finger between my lips and flick my tongue over its tip before releasing it and chewing on the olive.
‘I like a girl with an appetite,’ Jock says, the double meaning hangs heavy between us.
‘Bella, hi!’ one of a group of five of Steve’s assholes calls out after they sit at the table right next to us. The young women are dressed to the nines, fitting in with the crowd in the bar.
‘Oh, hi,’ I reply. ‘This place is off the normal tourist trail. How did you find your way down here?’ I ask to be polite while not wanting to initiate a conversation.
‘I’ve been to Monaco heaps,’ a heavily made-up brunette responds. ‘It’s so much more authentic down here than at the Grand. Know what I mean?
‘I sure do,’ I smile, turning back towards Jock.
‘Introduce us to your friend,’ another of the group requests.
‘Sure. This is my, um, friend, Jock,’ I wave towards him, ‘and these beautiful women are some of Steve’s group who I have brought up to Monaco tonight. Although it seems I could have had the night off and you could have done it.’ I laugh, pointing to the brunette who joins in laughing.
‘You look familiar,’ another of the group directs to Jock. ‘Are you from California?’
‘No,’ Jock responds curtly, angling his face away from the group.
‘Went to California State? Work in Los Angeles?’
‘Nope, none of those,’ Jock replies.
‘Weird,’ she replies, ‘I’m sure I’ve seen you somewhere before.’
‘Maybe I just have one of those faces,’ Jock shuts her down. ‘Hey, it was really nice meeting you all, but Bella and I were just grabbing a quick drink before we go out for a walk. Isn’t that right Bella?’ Jock picks up his drink and drains it. ‘Enjoy the rest of your tour.’
‘Oh right,’ I look at Jock, confused. ‘I’ll see you at 11.45.’ I smile then trot after Jock who has set a cracking pace. As he pauses at the bar to pay for our drinks, I hear one of the group say, ‘I know that I know that guy from somewhere.’
‘You okay?’ I ask Jock as we leave the building into the chill of the night air.
‘I’m fine,’ he smiles. ‘I just didn’t want to share you with them,’ he nods back towards the bar.
‘Where are we walking to then?’ I ask, rubbing my upper arms to stop goose bumps forming.
Jock slides his dark denim jacket off, and places it gently over my shoulders. The black t-shirt he is wearing cuts off his arms mid-bicep. Maybe he really does do manual labour to get those guns, pecs, and stomach, I think, admiring his physique.
‘Lead the way,’ I suggest.
Jock heads towards the steps that lead up to the Grand Casino.
He keeps pace with my shorter stride and stops at the top to let me catch my breath.
Side by side, we stroll through Monaco’s crowds past the Grand Casino to Avenue d’Ostende.
As we follow the cream ornate railings Jock picks up my hand in his linking fingers.
I turn to face him, we smile, and that tingle comes back.
Jock guides me down a flight of stairs until we are at sea level and walking alongside moored yachts and launches. We stop at a small gelato stand.
‘What’s your favourite flavour?’ he asks.
‘Peach,’ I reply with certainty. ‘It reminds me of the peach cobbler my mam used to make from tinned peaches. She used to give it to my sister and me to warm us up after school when it was freezing cold and snowy outside. Peach gelato combines that feeling of Scottish cold but a flavour that takes me right back to being six or seven. That sounds silly now that I say it,’ I blush.
‘It doesn’t sound silly at all,’ Jock smiles kindly. He releases my hand to retrieve his wallet from the pocket of his expensive-looking jet-black jeans. ‘Deux pêches s’il vous pla?t,’ he asks the elderly man handing over a 10 franc note.
Gelatos in hand, we find a spot on a bench seat overlooking the marina.
‘Try not to get any on your face this time Bella,’ Jock jokes. ‘I got extra napkins just in case,’ he laughs.
‘Very funny,’ I reply. I hope he doesn’t think of me as a complete slob. I think I’d quite like him to kiss my mouth, not constantly be wiping food off of it. ‘If you could have any of these boats, which one would you pick?’ I ask.
Jock looks around for a moment taking in the array of vessels tied up.
‘See that little white yacht over there in the corner?’ He points to what is probably the least impressive vessel in the marina, a small daysailer made of timber.
The last rays of the sun glint off its varnished timber deck.
Its mainsail is stored covered with a yellow sheath on the long boom, its rigging looks well maintained.
It looks loved. The small yacht sways gently up and down as the boat wakes from other craft entering and leaving the marina, making small waves on the otherwise calm water.
‘Old man Cameron used to take me and my sister out on the Gare Loch on a daysailer,’ I smile at the memory. ‘We even tried to take it out by ourselves one day. Lucky for us, we couldn’t push it off the shore, or we probably would never have been seen again. ’
‘Bit of a deviant, aren’t you!’ Jock elbows me gently.
‘Why that one?’ I ask him.
‘Because it’s simple. Uncomplicated. It can travel, see amazing things, compete with the big boats even, but at its core, it knows it’s just a very basic boat.’ He replies.
He stares at it longingly, and I wonder if he’s still talking about the sailing vessel.
‘What about you?’ he asks. ‘Which one would you pick?’
‘See that big navy blue superyacht - the Rock Star? I’d pick that one,’ I say with conviction. ‘The life you must have if you can afford to stay on a boat like that. Can you even imagine it?’
The deck of the Rock Star is a hive of activity. Two men in sky blue polo shirts mop vigorously while another seems to be folding rope. A striking blonde woman emerges from the cabin, pauses on the deck and looks our way.
‘Is that blonde woman staring at us?’ I ask.
‘Which blonde woman?’ Jock asks as he turns towards the Rock Star.
‘Well, don’t you stare,’ I admonish him. ‘But the blonde woman on the Rock Star. Is she watching us?’
‘Don’t be daft,’ Jock laughs. He raises his hand and flicks it in a ‘shoo’ gesture towards the boat. The blonde woman immediately vanishes back into the interior. ‘Let’s finish these gelatos and get you back.’