Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Emily
Ican hear the throbbing beat of Bonkers by Dizzee Rascal pouring from The Lair nightclub along the seafront as I jump out of the taxi and pay the driver.
Sadie got a text from Peter asking for her to meet him at his office, so she’s joining us later, but she hooked me up with a taxi from her mate’s all-women-drivers company.
In this day and age that’s a genius idea, and I make sure I keep their card.
I smooth down the dress she loaned me as I walk towards Eli and Leo, who are both chatting as they wait outside.
I love this dress I'm borrowing. It’s a dark forest green, knee length, and tight but still with plenty of freedom of movement.
The top is shaped, and there’s underwire under each of my breasts; I’m only one cup size larger than Sadie, and let’s just say it works.
It’s been a while since I willingly rocked any cleavage, and I’m secretly loving it.
She did my hair in messy waves, and my make-up is a little darker than I normally wear - my lips are wine red - but, again, it works.
I feel like someone else, someone confident and more interesting, and I wonder if this will help me cut loose tonight.
Eli turns, as though he can feel me staring at him like a touch.
He looks awesome in a black shirt and dark grey jeans, and his hair is in its usual knot.
I swear his blue eyes flash and set alight for a split second when he recognises me, and it sends a tingle down my spine that makes my breath catch, but his expression settles quickly and I tell myself it was wishful thinking on my part.
I’m not sure if I’m relieved or disappointed.
I think I’m leaning more towards the latter.
Leo follows Eli’s glance and he gives me a bright smile. “Hey, Pumpkin,” he says as I approach, giving me a friendly kiss on the cheek and a cheeky whistle. “Nice dress, you look great,” he says, looking at Eli briefly and then behind me. “No Sadie?”
“Thanks - um, no, Peter texted. He wanted her to call by his office first.” Leo’s jaw clenches slightly, but his smile remains in place. “She says she’ll meet us inside later.”
“Hmm, I’ll believe that when I see it,” Leo drawls derisively.
It’s a little out of character. “Peter doesn’t like coming out, so we probably won’t see them tonight.
” He stretches his neck from side to side like a warm-up.
“Still,” he says, flipping back to his jovial self, “The three of us are going to have an epic night, regardless, right? Shall we?” he nods at the door.
“The first round’s on me, so get your sweet butt inside.
” He grins, already a little hyperactive, and raises an eyebrow, the one with the scar.
We start to make our way inside, up some steps through two large oak doors manned by bouncers, one of whom Leo low-fives. The entrance is a little crowded with other people, but nothing too uncomfortable.
“You do look great,” Eli says quietly next to me in his deep rumble. I know I’m starting to go pink, and my goofy smile is unstoppable.
“Thank you,” I murmur back, glancing at him from the corner of my eye as we walk in - damn, he looks good - and making a mental note to buy Sadie a good bottle of wine for the sterling job she did on my appearance tonight.
Once we pay the entry fee, Leo leads us through a mirrored corridor opening on to a thriving dance floor with a bar to the right hand side.
The energy in here is good; people seem happy and in the party spirit, lots of dancing and laughter and a few hollering cheers as shots are downed by a group next to the bar.
Dizzee Rascal is just finishing up and segueing into All the Single Ladies, and the lights that dance across the room are a stunning aquamarine and mauve.
Around the edge of the room on a raised platform, protected by railings lined with fairy lights, are a mishmash of unmatching seats with small tables, just large enough for trays of drinks.
“You guys grab a seat, I’ll get the drinks in. Diet Coke?” Leo asks me, and I nod, oddly touched that he’s memorised my regular order. He turns to Eli. “How about you?”
“Any beer will do,” Eli replies over the noise.
Leo nods and walks to the bar, and Eli gently taps my elbow, which feels nice.
Very nice. It’s a gentle elbow tap, and yet it goes straight to my clit.
I need to pull myself together. “Up here?” he says, indicating with his thumb towards a group of four chairs facing the dance floor.
“Sure,” I say, and we nip over quickly before the seats are claimed.
The people in this place are amazing looking, and I am reminded again how fashionable an area Foxton-on-Sea is.
The men look like they’re all in bands, with obscure fandom t-shirts and curly hair and perfect stubble; the women wear rockabilly dresses from Lindy Bop, maybe, and have neon hair, shaved undercuts, and tattoos of Betty Page on their arms, probably done by Sadie or Leo.
I love this town so much. I completely see why it’s known as ‘Camden by the sea’.
Eli picks the chair directly opposite mine. I smooth the dress over my legs nervously, casting around for something, anything, to say.
“I haven’t been clubbing in years,” I call over Beyonce.
“I don’t think you’ll find it’s changed much,” he calls back with a delicious wry grin, leaning forward to make conversation easier.
His shirt sleeves are rolled up over his forearms, and my eyes slip to his ink.
The urge to trace my fingers over the black patterns covering his skin is strong.
“Though this club is actually pretty cool. Leo knows the DJ, so…” He shrugs.
“I’ve been to worse clubs, I know that.”
“Do you come here very often?” I ask, and then gape at the corny question. His eyes sparkle and we both laugh.
“Now and again. Not for a while.” He gives me a direct look, and I think he’s trying to communicate something, but I’m too mesmerised by how unutterably handsome he is to be able to clear my mind enough to understand precisely what.
The moment is broken when Leo arrives, deftly holding our drinks. “Right,” he says decisively, “lubricate, and then it’s dancefloor time. You all down?”
Eli looks at me.
My face heats up as cold panic runs down my body, an interesting and entirely unpleasant combination.
“I...um…” I take a deep swallow of ice cold Diet Coke as I try frantically to come up with an excuse. “I...can’t dance,” I finish lamely, looking at the floor.
Unpleasant memories intrude, uninvited guests at what is supposed to be a fun night.
I remember loving to dance on nights out with friends, never caring whether or not I was good at it, until I met Gav.
I remember him hanging around on the sidelines when I took him out with my friends, never joining in, telling me to go and have fun but standing alone and obviously bored if I did so.
I remember the increasing moodiness, how quickly he became openly rude, and eventually stopping saying ‘yes’ to any invitations for nights out with my friends so they wouldn’t see it and I wouldn’t have to pretend I didn’t see their speaking looks to each other.
I remember dancing at one wedding once a few years later, out of practice, feeling a little stiff and unsure of myself.
..and Gav grabbing my wrist, pulling me to one side, and hissing in my ear that I was embarrassing him with my crap dancing and ordering me to stop.
I shiver involuntarily. He’s not here, but his presence in my mind still stifles me.
It was a mistake to come tonight, I think sadly. Why come to a nightclub if not to dance? What’s the point? They were all expecting a fun evening with somebody who’d join in, and here I am ruining it with my chicken shittery...
“I’m...sorry,” I say quietly.
“Hey, no harm, no foul,” Leo says sincerely, reaching across for a gentle hand squeeze, “you don’t have to dance if you don’t wanna.” He nods towards his cousin. “Eli will keep you company, won’t you?” He grins.
“Sure,” Eli responds easily, seeming untroubled.
“Oh, but I wouldn’t want to hold you back, or - ”
“Nah,” he assures me, “Leo’s the one with the rhythm. I’m good sitting here with you. We can point at him and laugh.” His eyes warm up with a hint of mischief. He’s the most relaxed I’ve ever seen him.
“Laugh it up, I don’t give a shit,” Leo says quite happily, downing some more of his drink before stretching his arms and sides like he’s about to start a marathon.
He looks good tonight himself, in jeans with a sleeveless shirt with loose threads on the shoulders.
His tattooed arms are as muscular as Eli’s, and his hair is loose and curling haphazardly down his smiling pirate face.
“Feast your eyes, babygirl, and enjoy watching me bringing sexy back.” He winks at me before leaping deftly over the railings with one arm and ploughing straight into the busy dance floor as Eli rolls his eyes good naturedly.
Ho. Lee. Shit.
Leo can dance.
I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s as though he is the music and the music is him.
He’s fearless, snake hipped, throwing shapes and pulling off complex moves without seeming at all wanky about it; just a hot guy having a good time.
The women on the dance floor watch him like hawks, and I can’t blame them; the guy is sexy as balls.
They almost start sniffing around him, moving closer, like wild animals in heat.
I half expect David Attenborough to start narrating the scene, going into detail about the mating rituals of the adult male Leo.
“Leo Mills!” The DJ crows into a microphone. “Ladies, your evening has begun.”