Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
KIT
I stirred my coffee, slopping it over the sides of the cup. Bloody Brendan.
We were supposed to be meeting for a long and possibly liquid lunch, during which he’d in turn berate his ex, Mitchell, for being a two-timing bastard and then mope about how he was the best thing to have happened to him.
I’d have needed a whole line up of drinks to put up with hearing all that but Bren was an old friend, even though I had to admit not always a very good one, who’d nonetheless had his heart broken.
I’d listen to him wallow, even if I did increasingly tune him out.
The whole Brendan-Mitchell thing had been a bad soap opera from the day they’d met.
And now I was in bloody Hampstead, bloody stood up on the other bloody side of London because bloody Brendan had sent a text to say that he and bloody Mitchell were talking things through. Lunch was off. Sorry.
“Thank you, and goodbye,” I muttered as I dumped too much sugar into my coffee.
Saturday, early afternoon, and Hampstead was buzzing.
Every other shop seemed to be either a smart restaurant, café, or bar.
Smart and expensive, like the funky Italian place I was sitting in.
Fuming from the message I’d picked up as soon as I emerged from the underground, I’d gone into the nearest coffee shop, ordered my usual flat white—and almost fainted when the amount came up on the card machine.
This was one coffee that was going to last, but at least it’d come with a biscotti.
I snorted. Stale, break-your-teeth rusk sounded so much better in Italian.
I’d go for a walk over the Heath, make the journey from New Cross to Hampstead worth at least some of the effort.
A rumble of thunder was followed by the sudden whip of rain against the window.
Jesus, could the day get any worse? I’d sit out the weather, then make my way home and spend the rest of the weekend in bed watching box sets and eating my weight in pizza and ice cream.
It wasn’t as if I had anything better to do.
I picked up my coffee and stared out at the rain-soaked gloom.
Behind me, the door rattled open.
“Hi Stephano. Is my order ready?”
My whole body tensed. The cool voice I hadn’t expected to hear again, my last encounter with its owner ending up awkward and uncomfortable. The owner of the voice with a face I hadn’t been able to get out of my head.
I peered over my shoulder and swallowed hard.
Alex Cade, but not as I’d seen him before.
A bright yellow, long-sleeved running top and a pair of black running leggings hugged his frame, showing off his lean, long, runner’s legs and taut backside.
Mud smeared his trainers, and a blue hat was pulled low over his flushed face.
The barista, Stephano, handed over a large paper carrier bag emblazoned with the café’s logo.
“I think Englishmen run to keep warm. Is too cold in this country.” Stephano laughed, his smile friendly. I narrowed my eyes. Maybe a little too friendly.
“You might be right about that. It’s freezing out there today. But I broke the twelve-mile mark.” Alex smiled, softening his features in a way I hadn’t seen before. “Best get home and scrape all this mud off me. See you, Stephano.”
Alex swung around to leave, but I wasn’t quick enough. He stopped, as rigid as a statue, his open-mouthed shock quickly vanishing behind a cool, closed-off mask.
“What are you doing here?” he barked.
“I’m on a circus skills course as I’m looking for a change of career.”
Alex’s eyes widened before the corners of his lips quirked. “Circus skills? Perhaps you should try comic, instead. Or not.”
Touché. “I was due to meet a friend—the one who got thrown out—”
“Brendan.”
It was my turn to be taken aback. “Yes, that’s right. Surprised you remembered.”
“I take notice of a lot of things many others don’t.” Alex pulled out the empty chair opposite me, sat down, and leant forward.
I clutched my cup hard, taking no heed of the heat burning into my palms. Alex was close enough for me to see the tiny splatters of mud across his face, the small, faint scar over his left eyebrow, and the golden flecks in the variegated green of his eyes.
I breathed in deep, my senses saturating.
Alex smelt of earth and rain and sweat, all of it heady, complex, and primal.
“You were going to meet your friend, but not any longer?”
“What?” I said, struggling to catch up. “Er, yes. I’ve been dumped in favour of the bastard ex.”
“Ouch.”
“Hmm.”
Alex’s gaze held mine, making it impossible to turn away.
“Look,” he said, slowly. “About the other night, at the club. I’m sorry you were uncomfortable.
But Euphoria’s a gay club. Near naked dancers in cages, what can I say, it’s the nature of the business.
We pay them very well, they make more dancing for us than they would in just about any other club around.
We also provide as much tea and biscuits as they want during their breaks.
Even chocolate ones, sometimes.” Alex smiled and I laughed. “Am I forgiven?”
I nodded but the truth was, I wasn’t the one needing to forgive. I owed him an apology.
“I went off the deep end, so it’s me who should be saying sorry.
” It wasn’t the dancers who’d pulled a trigger or rung an alarm, it had been the baying, frenzied crowd that had made my heart thump erratically and my muscles tense up.
But Alex wasn’t to know my history. “I shouldn’t have done that, I had no right.
I’m not a prude, and I’m not usually so censorious.
” Or at least I hoped I wasn’t, but I wouldn’t blame him if he thought otherwise.
Alex glanced towards the rain drenched window that was starting to steam up before turning back to me.
“I live just around the corner. Why don’t you come back with me, and have another coffee?
Maybe we can start again?” He lowered his voice.
“At the very least, you won’t be paying almost a fiver for not much more than a thimbleful. ”
“God, I almost had a fit at the price, but it was too late to back off. I should have gone to Maccie D’s.”
Alex snorted. “For god’s sake, don’t let Stephano hear you say that.”
“As long as it doesn’t come with stale rusk.”
Alex’s brow wrinkled in confusion.
“Biscotti. What a bloody sham of a biscuit that is.”
Alex grinned, his eyes full of laughter. “I can offer custard creams and Hobnobs. So, is it a deal?”
It was more than a deal, and I was already getting to my feet.
“This is incredible.” I stood at the glass wall overlooking the Heath and the rest of London beyond.
The rain still lashed at the window, but it took nothing away from the incredible view.
“Clubs must pay well if it means you end up with an outlook like this. Oh, thanks.” I took the coffee Alex held out for me, humming my delight as I sipped.
It was even better than the pricey café one, and it hadn’t cost me an arm and a leg.
My stomach rumbled; the only thing missing was the promised biscuits.
“Okay?”
I nodded and tried not to ogle. Alex had headed for the shower as soon as we’d reached his top-floor flat and was now standing next to me in old jeans faded with wear, and a light grey jumper which hugged but didn’t strangle his torso.
His dark hair, I noticed for the first time, was more auburn than brown, and threaded with the odd strand of silver.
It was still damp and was starting to curl up at the ends.
I held my mug tighter, pushing aside the urge to flatten down the errant curls.
The silence, as we stared out over the city, was stretching thin, becoming awkward, and I turned to say something, anything, before it snapped.
Alex beat me to it.
“Do you fancy something to eat, other than biscuits? I’m not much of a cook, but I make a decent cheese omelette. Unless you’ve got some kind of egg and dairy issue?”
“The only issue I’ve got is being starving hungry. Thanks, I’d love an omelette.”
As Alex clattered around in the kitchen end of the huge open-plan space, I looked around, taking in what Alex Cade called home.
Minimalist was the theme, almost but not quite to the point of being stark.
Two big, cream leather sofas and a blond wood coffee table sat in front of a white painted wall where a huge television screen was mounted.
On the other walls were large abstract paintings, the colours brilliant and bold, bringing much-needed vibrancy to the room.
In one corner was a small, plain, three-legged table which held a framed photograph. I leant forward and studied it.
A younger version of Alex stood with another man who had his arm slung around Alex’s shoulders, and I wasn’t sure if the man was pulling him in or if Alex was leaning into him.
The man’s dark hair was cut short, in contrast to Alex’s longer, floppy hair.
Where Alex looked awkward, even shy, the other man stared into the camera lens with an expression that was sure and cocky, his smile wide yet hard, a man who, I felt sure, would take on all comers and ensure he came out on top.
They stood in front of a doorway, and I immediately recognised Euphoria.
“That was taken the day we took ownership of the club.”
I jumped and swung around; I hadn’t heard Alex come up behind me.
I wanted to ask questions about the photograph.
Neither Alex nor the man, who must have been Alex’s business partner, looked much older than their very early twenties.
That there was a story behind the photograph, I was in no doubt.
I could see it in Alex’s awkwardness and in the other man’s taut smile and possessive hold.
“It’s where it all started. Euphoria was our first club.”
“That must have been a proud moment, because you and—”
“Kelvin.”
Kelvin. The hard, and frankly dangerous looking man, Alex’s business partner… and more at one time, maybe, if I was judging the photo correctly?
“You both look so young, to be starting out in business.”
“We’d already had a lot of experience.” Alex swung away. “Food’s ready. We’ll eat in the kitchen.”
“Sure, thanks.” I cast a last glance at the photo before following Alex.
He pulled out a couple of beers and opened them up without asking, plonking one down in front of me as if it were a given. I nodded my thanks. High-handed, for sure, but as I took a sip, with such good beer, I could overlook it.
Alex was right, he did make a mean omelette, and I finished it off in no time.
“I’m on holiday, or kind of,” he said suddenly. “Couple or so days, that’s all.” Alex looked beyond me, to where the rain continued to pummel against the glass wall. “Thought about going away, someplace warm and sunny, but just couldn’t be bothered in the end.”
“Any chance I get, I grab a flight and chase the sun. Ideally in Thailand.”
“Why there?”
I hesitated, because I’d said more than I’d meant to.
The answer was complicated, and bound up with so much I wanted to forget.
I scrambled for the clichés to help me climb out of the hole I felt like I’d dug for myself.
“Because it’s stunningly beautiful, the food’s to die for, the people are friendly, and it’s cheap, which is a big consideration when money’s tight.
” It was all true, but none of those reasons were the ones that really mattered.
“But there haven’t been too many chances to get away, lately, to anywhere hot and sunny. ”
“Why?”
“Because although I’ve got a good job in HR with a large company most of what I earn goes on paying my mortgage.
” The knot that had formed in the centre of my chest loosened.
I was back on safe ground. “I earn a half-decent salary, but there’s not much left at the end of each month.
Sometimes, especially if I’ve had a bad day at work, I find myself asking if it’s all worth it.
More than once I’ve thought about throwing it all in and taking off. ”
Alex’s gaze on me was as hard and unrelenting as the midday sun, and I looked away from the blinding dazzle.
“I get it. Just turn around and walk away. Leave it all behind and go. Become somebody else.”
The tone of his voice, it was as though he were talking not to me but to himself.
I turned to look at him, but he’d returned his gaze to the glass wall, his jawline stiff, his green eyes looking towards a place only he could see.
He smiled, but it was hard and humourless.
“But you don’t, do you? Instead, you just carry on. ”