Chapter Thirty-Nine #2
I squeeze the back of her neck. “Fuck off.”
She nods, smiles all sarcastically as I leave her room.
Delphine is hovering by the stairs when I go down. “Do you want a drink, love? Something to eat?”
“Nah, I’m gonna make a move in a minute. Thanks.” I lean in, kiss her cheek.
Mum and Dad are talking in the living room when I go in. Mum looks over at me, looks sorry.
“I’m going now,” I tell them.
Dad gives me a brief nod.
Mum comes over to me, kisses my head. “I love you, Arthur. Please make an effort—with coming around more and him,” she nods behind her at Dad. “He’s struggling.”
“We’re all struggling.”
She sighs, gives me a shaky smile and another kiss.
? ? ?
“Fuck it—just get a bottle,” Connie says, pointing at the menu.
George whacks it out of his hand. “That’s a dessert wine, you melon.”
Connie rolls his eyes, pulls a face at me when George looks away, The boys and I met up for dinner at 34.
Bit overdue, really. We haven’t spoken much recently.
Feels like it, anyway. I mean, we practically live in each other's pockets but still, everything has been going so fast lately. I haven’t been able to come up for breath.
“We’re not getting a bottle,” George declares, setting down his menu. “Arthur ain’t drinking and neither am I. Just get what you want and we’ll credit card roulette it at the end.”
“Hang on a minute,” Con pulls back. “What do you mean you’re not drinking?”
George blinks twice. “What I fucking said? I’m not drinking.”
Connie squints, laughs. “You’re having me on.”
He scrunches his face up. “Why would I be having you on?”
“No—no,” Connie shakes his head. “What do you mean you’re not drinking?”
George drags a hand down his face, points to him. “He gone fucking Mutt and Jeff or something?”
I frown. “Why aren’t you drinking, though?”
“Oh my god!” George rolls his eyes. “I’ve a fight coming up, don’t I? No drink, no fags, no sex—”
“Ah,” Connie nods. “That’s why he’s so wound up—poor fucker ain’t getting laid by the fittest girl in Britain.”
Albie sniggers beside me. “I wouldn’t go there if I were you, mate.”
George turns around slowly, cocks his head. “Do you wanna say that again?”
Connie laughs. “Would you rather me call her a munter?”
George clips him round the back of the head and then the waiter comes over and we order.
“Anyway,” George claps when the waiter walks off. “On the subject of getting laid…” he looks at me.
“Yeah?”
“Are you?”
I pick up my water glass. “What’s it got to do with you?”
“Oh, he so fucking is!” Connie chimes in and I give him a kick under the table. If he mentions Phoebe popping round every night and leaving every morning, I’ll batter him. God knows who is listening to our conversation. Another cheating scandal in the papers is the last thing my family needs.
“Don’t know by who, though,” Connie finishes carefully. “But he’s been in a right perky mood lately—anyway, you seeing anyone Albs?” Connie smiles over at him.
“Is he fuck,” George snorts.
I look to Albie for his answer but he just shrugs. “Yes and no.”
I look to Con then back to Albie. “And what does that mean?”
“It means I see people everyday.”
Connie groans. “Why do you have to be so fucking cryptic, mate? Thought we left Inspector Calls at school.”
“He’s a gentleman,” George laughs. “No kissing and telling with this one.”
“I’m not sure there’s anything to tell,” Connie rolls his eyes. “I mean, how do you do it? Get them to sign an NDA or something before they jump in bed with you?”
Albie laughs, shakes his head. “No. I just don’t go around sleeping with anything that breathes.”
I pull a face at George, we both take large sips from our drinks.
“Piss off,” Connie raises his voice. “If you really want to know, I’ve found myself a very secret, very special—”
“Primrose,” the three of us say at the same time.
“Oh, what!” He blows a raspberry, shakes his head. “See! I can’t even take a shit without everyone knowing.”
Our food comes and after we’ve eaten, George goes out to take a call. I follow him.
“One minute,” he nods at me, walks a bit further away and then wraps up the call.
“Who was that?” I ask even though I never ask because it’s never my business.
“The man I’m seeing about a dog—what do you want?” He smiles.
I shake my head, glance back at the restaurant. “Just wanted to ask if you could get me a room tonight?”
He frowns. “At the hotel or House?”
Shrug. “Anywhere private—House, preferably.”
“Why?” He smirks, nods his chin. “Who you planning on spending the night with?”
I cock my head. “The woman I’m seeing about a pussy.”
He laughs. “Fair play. I’ll sort you out.”
He goes back on the phone and I go back inside the restaurant.
“Put your card down,” Connie tells me.
I throw my Coutts card down on the bill—do a double take.
“Hang on,” I point at Connie. “That’s not fair, I didn’t order drink!”
He shrugs. “Not my fault you’re a Sober Sally now, is it?”
“That’s an eight hundred pound bill, Con!”
Connie laughs, frowns, points at Albie and then to me. “Are you shitting me? Are you seriously complaining about a bill? Are you or are you not currently the richest kid in the world?”
I roll my eyes. “Net worth and what I currently have in my bank are two different things!”
He waves his hand through the air, sips more of his—what I’m guessing is a ￡40–gin.
George comes back inside, gives me a look.
No one needs to know who I’m spending the night with—not even you—but you probably do already know.
Phoebe, obviously. And yeah, you know what?
It is sleazy, hotel rooms under different names and all that shit we swore we’d never do but the longer she stays with Digby, the longer I’ll be waiting, with a room key.
Anyway, Connie picks up the bill (tosser) and after dinner, I go with the twins while Con makes his own way home.
George managed to get me a suite at House, basically smuggles me in so no one sees me.
When I get in, I sit on the bed, think about what I’m doing for all of two seconds before I ring Phoebe and tell her where I am.