Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Beck
All I’d wanted to do was focus on my work, but since leaving Scotland, it was as if my brain had been dunked in a black fog which I just couldn’t find my way out of. It had only been days but it felt like weeks—months.
I drummed my fingers on the black, glossy table, skirting the edge of my pint glass.
“Is that water?” Dexter asked as he arrived, wincing as if I were nursing a pint of battery acid.
“With a wedge of lime. Got a problem with that?” Alcohol was the last thing I needed. I wanted my head to be less fuzzy not more.
He slipped his jacket onto the back of his chair and nodded at the barman. “Where did you develop your mood? A car crash?”
“Fuck off, nothing’s wrong with my mood,” I snapped.
“Right,” he said, leaning back and thanking the barman as they slid a glass of whiskey in front of him.
“You’re a tit for paying for this place.
” I never understood why people paid memberships to get into what was essentially a bar and restaurant.
I glanced around Dexter’s club—the ceiling was a reflection of the table we were sitting around, and gold streaks shot out from the circle of dark glass like the sun trying to escape an eclipse.
It looked like the kind of thing Stella would point out to me.
“There are a thousand bars like this in London.” That wasn’t quite true.
This place was nice, but I expected Dexter to be more frugal.
“Okaaay,” he replied. “Are you going to tell me why you look like your dog just died?”
“Nothing wrong with me. I’ve just been waiting for you lot to arrive.
” I hadn’t been able to focus in the office, which wasn’t like me, so I’d taken myself off to the gym, then come straight here.
I’d been hoping the exercise would clear my head, but nothing was working.
All I could think about was Stella. Where was she?
What was she doing? What was she thinking about? Who was she with?
“And you’re not flirting with the waitresses, which means you either lost a shitload of money or you didn’t get your own way on something important. Which is it?” he asked.
Jesus, did this guy think he was my therapist? “Neither, Madame Zelda. Stop trying to read my mind or fortune or whatever.”
“So, how was Scotland?”
What was with the twenty questions? “You want me to fill in a questionnaire for you about my life?” I asked.
Dexter burst out laughing. “I take it you have your period.”
“Don’t be a sexist fucker,” I said. I might go. Dexter was irritating me tonight. Everything was irritating me tonight.
“Oh sorry, I forgot you were the bastion of political correctness.”
“Not being a dick isn’t being politically correct—it’s not being a dick.”
Dexter raised his eyebrows. “Fair enough. So, you don’t have your period because you’re not a woman, not that being a woman is a bad thing and having a period must be great, but seriously, mate, what the fuck is the matter with you?”
I slumped back in my chair. “Just got some stuff on my mind, that’s all.”
Over at the hostess’s table, Tristan was chatting up a member of staff. “That guy needs to get laid,” Dexter said.
“Clearly,” I replied as Tristan approached our table.
“Christy,” he said by way of explanation. “Hot, right?”
“Doesn’t mean you have to bang her,” Dexter said, as if he were telling a four-year-old not to go near the fire.
“Doesn’t mean that I shouldn’t shag her either.”
Tristan was going through a phase. It was just a phase that had lasted about five years.
“Is it just the three of us tonight?” he said.
“Gabriel might join us later but he’s working late,” Dexter said.
“How was Scotland?” Tristan asked. “Did you get the building?”
I exhaled. It should feel like more of a victory than it did. Perhaps it would be different when the documents were finally signed. “Price is agreed. Survey done. Just waiting for the contracts to catch up.”
“Wow, that’s great news . . . isn’t it?” Tristan said.
“So what?” I barked. Without Stella, the Dawnay building didn’t seem so important.
“His dog died,” Dexter said, trying to explain why my expression didn’t match up to the news that the deal I’d been waiting so long for and working so hard toward was finally about to happen.
“My dog is fine.” I shook my head. What was I talking about? “I don’t have a fucking dog. No one died. No one’s sick. I’m just . . . pre-occupied.”
I didn’t miss the look Tristan shot Dexter, one that said I was teetering on the brink of mental failure. Which I might just be.
“With what?” Tristan asked.
“Just stuff. Work and things. And then Dexter was being a dick and irritating me.”
“Apparently, I’m sexist,” Dexter said.
“That goes without saying,” Tristan said. “But it’s not news.” He took a sip of the drink that had just been put in front of him. Clearly flirting with the hostess hadn’t been just about getting her number. “Scotland worked out. Work’s good. No one’s dog died. How’s Stella?”
Fuck him. I hated Tristan at times. He was a nosey parker. How was he still a member of our circle? “Fine.”
Dexter and Tristan both sucked in a breath at the same time.
“What?” I asked.
“This bad mood is Stella related.” Dexter said.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” If I could just stop thinking about her everything could get back to normal.
“Yup, it’s definitely Stella related. Did she say no to your very weak game?” Tristan asked.
“My game isn’t weak. And of course, she didn’t say no.” I groaned inwardly. I’d just given them an in.
“Ahhh,” they both chorused.
“I thought by that hangdog expression it was women trouble,” Tristan said. “Not that I’ve ever seen it on you. This is interesting.”
I didn’t have women trouble. Stella and I weren’t dating. We weren’t even talking.
“You slept with her,” Dexter said. “Then what happened?”
“Nothing. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“But there’s an it that you don’t want to talk about,” Tristan said. He was really getting on my nerves.
“Shut up,” I said.
“You two need to stop it before a fight breaks out,” Dexter said. “But seriously, what happened with Stella? I’ve never seen you like this. You’re defensive and bad-tempered. We’re not laughing at you—we’re laughing with you.”
“I’m laughing at him,” Tristan said. “But you can have Christy’s number if it will help.”
I needed to leave, or Tristan and I were going to end up at the end of each other’s fists. I might be in a bad mood, but he was unnaturally chirpy.
“Shut up, Tristan,” Dexter said.
“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I just ordered a new car and I’m feeling pretty pleased with myself. I’ll shut up.” He waved his hand over his face and resumed a normal expression. “I was being a dick. Tell us what happened?”
“Nothing’s up. I just . . .” I just wasn’t sure what had gone wrong.
“I suggested she and I celebrate getting the Dawnay building, and she didn’t seem that keen.
Said it was best to keep it professional.
That’s all.” I didn’t get it. We’d had a completely great week.
Amazing. Why wouldn’t she want to celebrate?
But whatever. I was over it. Not that there was anything to get over.
“You like her, Beck,” Dexter said. “I’m not sure what they’re putting in the air up there in Scotland, but whatever it is has you brooding over a woman.”
“I am not brooding.” I was just irritated.
“You wouldn’t normally care what anyone thought of you, but Stella’s opinion obviously matters,” Dexter said. “If it makes you feel any better, I thought she was great. Gave as good as she got. And she was hot, wasn’t she, Tristan?”
“I’d bang her,” Tristan replied.
“Hey,” I warned. I didn’t like the idea of Tristan thinking of Stella like that.
“That’s not saying a lot coming from Tristan—it would mean more if he wouldn’t bang her,” Dexter said.
“Well, the point is moot,” I replied. “Even if I did like her, which I’m not saying I do, we haven’t spoken since we got back.”
Tristan rolled his eyes. “Persistence pays off. Look at me and Christy. I’ve been trying to get her number for three months. You just gotta work at it.”
“I don’t work at getting women,” I replied. I didn’t work at having people like me. Not for anyone. And especially not Stella. She was too used to just going along with what other people wanted. She needed to figure out what made her happy.
“Sometimes it’s worth it,” Dexter said. “You don’t want to regret anything. And from your mood, it seems like Stella is important.”
“I liked her. That’s all.” I thought she’d liked me too. But, I guess that’s how it went. It just needled. I’d thought we were on the same page.
“That’s all?” Tristan asked. “I’ve never heard you say you like a woman. I rarely hear you mention a woman.”
Tristan was exaggerating. As usual.
“I just don’t get it. We were having a great time. I read the situation all wrong.”
“From what you told me on the phone from Scotland, her very serious boyfriend married her best friend. The girl’s going to assume that everyone’s trying to screw her over for a while. That kind of stuff messes you up.”
I took in a deep breath and tried to process what Dexter had said.
I wouldn’t describe Stella as messed up, but he had a point.
It can’t have been easy for her to watch Matt and Karen play the happy couple, even if Matt seemed like a bit of a cock.
“Yeah well, I get that.” She must have been concerned that I couldn’t be trusted.
“But I’m not wasting my energy on a woman who was happy to walk away. ”
“She’ll come around. Stella’s a sensible girl,” Dexter said.
“Funny, too,” Tristan said. “If you’re going to fuck things up with her, then can you let me have her number?”
Christ, Tristan was annoying me tonight. “What’s the matter with you? You can’t find your own woman, so you have to try for mine?”
He fixed me with a stare. “Your woman? Sounds serious. Sort it out. Because if it’s not me, some other guy will swoop in and this mood of yours will be permanent.”