Still Life with Strings (20 page)

The charity event is in
the Convention Centre on the quays. I’ve always thought it was a
strange-looking building, kind of like a gigantic glass cylinder tilted on an
axis. Or a gigantic glass cock tilted on an axis. Whatever architect designed
it must have been smoking some strong shit at the time.

When I arrive I’m
immediately handed a uniform consisting of a white blouse, tight black
trousers, and a black waistcoat. The guy who gives it to me quickly runs me
through the proceedings for the night, which will consist of a three-course
meal for a thousand people and a jewellery auction with pieces donated from a
well-known Irish designer to raise money for breast cancer. There’ll also be
some high-profile bands playing on stage.

Normally when I work on
these sorts of events I’m put in charge of a couple of tables, but since this
is all so high-end there’s a server for each one. Mine is close to the stage
and seats eight people. Before any of the food is served, we have to bring out
the drinks. There’s a choice of red or white wine, pink Prosecco, or champagne.

Back in my drinking
days pink Prosecco was my celebratory tipple for birthdays and such. Now it
holds absolutely no appeal.

My heart stutters when
I’m carrying the first tray to my assigned table and I clock a handsome profile
and a dark head of hair. Shane. He’s sitting with his mother and a few others.
His dad’s not there, though.

Of all the awkward
coincidences.

It suddenly makes
sense. The charity Mirin runs must be the one holding this event.

Shane doesn’t seem
happy to be here. In fact, he appears downright miserable. He looks up as I
approach and is taken aback when he sees me, but then a big warm smile shapes
his perfect lips. That smile is what gives me the courage to keep going.

He doesn’t say anything
while I place the drinks on the table, and Mirin is caught up chatting with an
older man beside her so she doesn’t notice me. Women like her rarely take note
of the people who serve them.

Shane selects a glass
of champagne and knocks back a long gulp. For whatever reason, he looks like he
needs it. I stand close to him, and his voice is low when he asks in amusement,
“Just how many jobs do you actually have?”

My mouth curves in a
barely there smile when I reply just as low, “I work events like these
occasionally.”

Subtly he reaches for
my hand out of sight of everyone else and gives it a quick squeeze. “You don’t
know how glad I am that you’re here. Someone must have taken pity on me,
because I really needed to see a friendly face.”

I give him a curious
look, not understanding what’s going on with him. It’s only as I’m stepping
away to return to the kitchen that I recognise the couple sitting at a table
one row down and everything clicks into place.

She’s even prettier in
real life, Mona Campbell, perched beside Justin, her new husband-to-be.

I can’t believe Shane’s
mother invited them, knowing how they went behind Shane’s back. I wonder if she
even told him they were going to be here, or if she just sprang it on him when
he arrived. What a thorough-going bitch.

I almost gasp when Mona
rises from her seat in her floor-length evening gown, a gown that is doing
nothing to disguise her small rounded baby bump. Ah, shit. That’s not something
Shane needed to see. Not only is his ex-fiancée moving on with his ex-best
friend, but she’s also very much pregnant with Justin’s baby.

I feel like putting
aside all my professionalism, running to him, and giving him a massive hug in
front of everyone. But I don’t do that. Perhaps I’ll be able to catch him in
private at some point. Twenty minutes later the starter is served, consisting
of seared scallops and a fancy pear sauce. When I put Shane’s plate in front of
him I allow my body to brush off his, a small token of my moral support. Then
I’m back in the kitchen, rushing around the massive, humid room helping to get
everything ready for the next course.

The one thing I don’t
like about these kinds of events is that there isn’t much camaraderie among the
staff, since not everyone knows each other and we’re all in such a frazzle to
get things done on time.

With the starter
finished, I collect the empty plates and realise just how self-absorbed Mirin
is because she still hasn’t recognised me. Shane’s on what must be his third or
fourth glass of champagne already. I put my hand to his shoulder for a second,
leaning down and murmuring, “I know why you’re miserable, but getting drunk
isn’t going to help. Don’t let the bitch get to you.” I pause and amend,
“Either of them.” Because his mother is just as much of a “see you next
Tuesday” for inviting Mona as Mona is for cheating.

I’m just about to move
on when Shane catches my hand to stop me. “I’m leaving once the meal is done.
My dad’s out of town on business so I told Mum I’d be her escort, but I can’t
take much more of this. Come home with me?”

Looking into his pained
eyes, I’m not sure what he’s asking, but his expression is so agonised that I
find myself nodding and whispering, “Okay.” I probably won’t get paid the full
amount if I leave early, but Shane needs me, and I find myself unable to refuse
him right now.

A few minutes after I
serve the dessert, a chocolate fondant that makes my mouth water just looking
at it, I make a quick run to the bathroom. After doing my business, I return to
my post just in time to see Shane standing so abruptly from his chair it falls
over behind him, making a loud clatter in the process. Then with an angry look
on his face he marches right out of the room. Not knowing what else to do, I
follow him.

When I reach him he’s
pacing back and forth in a quiet corridor. He looks up at my approach and his
expression is agonised. A moment later he lets out a long sigh.

“Are you okay?” I ask,
stepping up to him and putting a hand on his shoulder. He stops pacing and
raises his lowered head to me. His eyes are full of stark emotion.

Startled, I take his
hand and lead him to the end of the corridor, where we won’t be disturbed. Then
I pull him into a hug and whisper, “What’s wrong?”

“She’s fucking
pregnant,” he grits out, his face nestled in the crook of my neck.

“I know,” I murmur,
rubbing soothing circles into his back to comfort him.

What he says next
almost knocks me off my feet. “She aborted our baby, and now she’s having one
with him.” His words are so choked that I’m not sure I heard them at first.
Jesus, no wonder he’s so fucked up.

I put both my hands on
either side of his face so that his sad eyes meet mine. “Hey, do you want to
get out of here?”

His quick, fervent nod
is all the answer I need. Keeping a hold of his hand, I take him with me as I
go to get my things from the temporary locker I was given when I arrived.

The locker room is
empty, since all the staff are busy working the event, so I manage to slip out
of my uniform and back into my own clothes quickly. I’ll probably get an angry
phone call from the agency tomorrow for my disappearing act, but Shane needs
me.

We leave through the
back exit so as to avoid his mother and then catch a cab back to his place. His
house is quiet when we get there, and I sit him on the couch in the living room
before going to make some tea.

When life kicks you
upside the head, a hot beverage is always a much-welcome comfort.

Returning to the living
room, I place two steaming mugs on the coffee table and sit down beside Shane.

“That’s what messed my
head up the most, you know,” he says quietly. He didn’t speak a word the whole
journey here, almost like he was stuck in a trance since he told me about Mona
having an abortion in the empty corridor. “For months I could feel her drifting
away from me, so when I found her with Justin I was angry, but I wasn’t exactly
surprised. A few days later I found a crumpled receipt in her coat pocket for a
cheque made out to an abortion clinic. I confronted her, and she admitted to being
pregnant with my kid several months previously. She said she wasn’t ready for a
baby and knew I’d never agree to getting rid of it, so she kept it a secret.”
He stops and lets out a joyless laugh. “She had the gall to tell me that what I
didn’t know couldn’t hurt me.”

Bringing my hand up, I
brush his hair away from his forehead in an affectionate gesture. “People are
shit. The day you stop expecting decency from them is the day you’ll free
yourself from getting hurt.”

He shakes his head and
turns his body, shifting closer to me. His anger has long since dried up, but I
can tell seeing Mona tonight is still affecting him. “Not all people are shit.
You’re not. You’re the opposite of shit.”

I grin at him and make
a joke. “Why, thanks, Shane. That’s one of the nicest things anybody’s ever
said to me.”

A full, throaty laugh
escapes him, and my heart lifts to see him smiling. “You’re so fucking cool,
you know that?” he says, running his hand through my ponytail.

“Ah, so many
compliments tonight. Stop, or I’ll get a big head.”

“You’re like a salve to
all the crap I’ve been through. I sit and have a conversation with you, and
poof, all the pain is gone.”

“Well, I’m happy to be
able to help.”

We fall into a silence
as I lean forward and pick up my mug, taking a long, hot gulp. My other hand
has somehow found its way into Shane’s, and he’s tracing circles with his thumb
on the inside of my wrist. I place the mug back down and turn to look at him.
His hair is a little dishevelled from stressfully running his hands through it
one too many times. His beautiful gaze is shining and intense, focused in on me
like I’m the bull’s-eye on a dart board.

“I like how you’ve been
coming to play for me on the street,” I say, breaking the quiet.

His smile grows wide.
“Who says I was playing to you?”

I give him a look.
“Weren’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“It’s kind of becoming
the highlight of my day,” I blurt out honestly.

“Hearing me play is the
highlight of your day?” he asks in genuine surprise, like he thought maybe I
was just tolerating his eccentricities or something.

“I didn’t mean to admit
that,” I reply bashfully, and focus on the movement of his thumb at my wrist.
“But yeah. It’s nice. Kind of makes me feel special to have a virtuoso come and
perform just for me.”

He sucks in a breath,
his thigh moving and nudging against mine. “Explain to me why we’re just
friends again?”

“Shane…”

“No, seriously. I know
I’m not the only one who’s feeling this.”

I stare up into his
eyes, some kind of recklessness forming inside me. I want to feel every inch of
him, want to put my lips on all his gorgeous skin.

So the next thing that
comes out of my mouth is probably going to be the biggest regret of my life,
but I can’t seem to stop myself. My voice barely a whisper, I ask, “That
arrangement you suggested, is it still on the table?”

The grin that spreads across Shane’s
face makes my pores tingle. It’s almost…predatory. His thumb moves from my
wrist up and along the veins on the inside of my arm.

One eyebrow raised, he
murmurs deeply, “I thought you said you couldn’t handle it?”

With my free hand I
gesture between the two of us. “I can’t, but I can’t handle
this,
either. So why deprive ourselves when it’s going to hurt either way?”

Shane sucks on his
lower lip. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“And I don’t want to
hurt you.”

“Then we won’t hurt
each other,” he says with a determined look in his eyes as his face hovers
inches from mine.

“Okay, it’s a deal,
then,” I say backing up a bit, thrusting my hand out to him and laughing out of
nervousness. “Nobody gets hurt, and we both get to enjoy some incredible
no-strings sex.”

Shane doesn’t breathe a
word while he shakes my hand, his gaze growing dark with thoughts and need. In
the back of my mind I know what I’ve just said is the most untrue statement of
the century, but I need to fool myself into believing this is a solid plan.
Kind of like when you convince yourself to eat that slice of chocolate cake,
since you’re going to be starting a diet in the morning; in a tiny corner of
your mind you know the diet’s about as likely to happen as Brad Pitt walking
through the door and declaring his undying love.

With my hand in his,
Shane pulls me into his body so that our chests slam together and we’re both
breathing quickly. He leans forward and brushes his lips over mine, just a
whisper of a touch, and yet I feel it right in my core.

“I didn’t say we have
to start right away,” I rasp as he trails those lips from my mouth over my
cheek to the line of my jaw.

“Just a taste,” Shane
mumbles against my skin, and my entire body breaks out into goose bumps. “I
want to taste you. I’ve been thinking about it almost every day since we first
met.”

A small chuckle escapes
me as I watch him kiss his way down my neck. “You little pervert.”