Up Close and Personal (27 page)

Nicole had been subdued all evening and now, as the time approached midnight, she decided she’d had enough. ‘I think I’ll call it a night,’ she said to the others. ‘I can hardly keep my eyes open.’

‘Oh, can’t you stay a bit longer?’ Yasmin said. ‘Go on … one more drink.’

Nicole shook her head. ‘I’m picking Tilly up from my mum’s first thing; I don’t want to be hungover. In any case, if I go now, I’ll miss the rush for cabs.’ She picked up her handbag. ‘Sorry I’ve been such rubbish company. For some reason, I’m just not in the mood tonight.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ Juliet said, embracing her friend. ‘It’s been lovely to see you. Shall we walk you to the cab rank?’

‘No, I’ll be fine. You two stay and enjoy the rest of the show. I’ll text you when I get home.’

As Nicole slipped away, a drum roll sounded from the wings, heralding the final performance of the evening. All eyes turned to the stage as the red velvet curtain went up. There was a brief moment of confusion when the stage appeared to be empty, but then an over-sized gilded birdcage began a slow descent from the rafters. A gasp went up from the audience as they caught sight of the exotic bird within: a curvaceous, porcelain-skinned beauty who
was completely naked, save for a pair of purple fringed knickers, trimmed with a lavish marabou tail and two heart-shaped nipple pasties. As the audience began to applaud wildly, Yasmin leaned towards Juliet. ‘Nude ladies don’t really do it for me,’ she whispered. ‘Do you fancy going for a little wander?’

Juliet smiled. ‘Sounds good to me.’

Together, they set off on a tour of the room, drinks in hand. While the majority of guests were enjoying the stage show, others were wandering along the boulevard, ensconced in booths or just chatting at the bar. After a few minutes, Yasmin noticed two men, dressed identically in gangster-style double-breasted suits. One was mid-thirties, with dark hair, greying attractively at the temples. The other was a few years younger, but shared the same broad shoulders and patrician nose. They were standing by the French windows, drinks in hand, their eyes fixed firmly on the stage.

‘Check out those two,’ Yasmin said. ‘Pretty hot, huh?’

Juliet followed the other woman’s gaze. ‘I suppose so,’ she said unconvincingly.

‘Why don’t we go over and introduce ourselves?’

Juliet sighed. ‘Must we?’

‘Oh, come on, let’s be sociable.’

Juliet jerked her thumb towards the stage, where the artiste had now dispensed with her underwear and was writhing inside a giant martini glass. ‘Given the competition, I think we might have a job getting their attention.’

‘Rubbish,’ Yasmin replied, regarding the stripper disdainfully. ‘A two-bit tart like that is no match for us. Come on, I’ve got an idea.’

Without elaborating, she set off towards the men. As Juliet followed reluctantly in her wake, she was surprised to see Yasmin suddenly trip and stagger. As she did so, she flung her arm in the air and tipped up the glass she was carrying, sending a shower of frozen margarita over her chest.

‘Shit!’ Yasmin cried, surveying her sodden bra top. ‘I’m absolutely soaked.’ She glanced towards the two men and was pleased to see that the older one was looking towards her, his brow furrowed with concern. ‘Have you got a tissue, Juliet?’

Juliet sucked in her cheeks, desperately trying not to laugh at her friend’s theatrics. ‘Yeah, I think so.’ But then, as she flicked the clasp on her handbag, she caught Yasmin’s warning look.

‘Erm … sorry,’ she said, snapping the bag shut. ‘I seem to have run out.’

The next moment, the older man was stepping forward and offering the cream silk handkerchief from his breast pocket. ‘Is this of any use?’ he said in a rich baritone.

Yasmin smiled gratefully. ‘Oh, that’s terribly kind of you – thank you.’

She dabbed at her cleavage with the handkerchief, observing with some satisfaction how the cold liquid had caused her nipples to stiffen. Conscious that both men were now staring at her raptly, she reached into her cleavage and plucked out a shard of ice that was nestling between her breasts. After wiping her damp hand on her thigh, she offered it to the older man. ‘Allow me to introduce myself … Yasmin O’Brien.’

The man took her hand in a firm grip. ‘I’m Adam Glover.’ He looked at his companion. ‘And this is my brother, Stuart.’

Yasmin turned to the younger man. She was experienced
enough to know when a man was mentally undressing her – and right about now Stuart was removing her sequinned bra with his teeth. ‘I can see the family resemblance,’ she said, batting her eyelashes flirtatiously. She turned to her friend. ‘This is Juliet,’ she said.

Juliet smiled hesitantly, but didn’t offer her hand. ‘Nice to meet you.’

‘I was just going to the bar. Can I get you ladies a drink?’ Adam said smoothly.

‘I’ll have a vodka cranberry, thanks,’ Yasmin said.

Juliet shook her head. ‘Nothing for me. Actually’ – she nodded towards the bar – ‘I might go and say hi to Dante.’

‘Suit yourself,’ Yasmin said. ‘I’ll see you later.’

‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t,’ Juliet murmured as she melted into the crowd.

While Adam was at the bar, Yasmin and Stuart made small talk. Adam, it turned out, lived locally, but Stuart was visiting from London, where he worked as a management consultant for a big City firm. Both were single and had come to the fundraiser with a large group from Adam’s football club. When Stuart questioned Yasmin about her own background, she was deliberately vague. Anonymity, she knew from previous experience, was preferable in these sorts of situations. Before Adam had even returned, Yasmin decided to cut to the chase.

‘You know what, it’s a bit stuffy in here,’ she said, batting her hand in front of her face. ‘Do you fancy getting a breath of air?’

‘Okay,’ Stuart said, looking towards the bar. ‘But I should let my brother know where we’re going.’

Yasmin grabbed his hand, impatient to leave. ‘Don’t worry about him. We won’t be long.’

As they exited the banqueting suite and made their way down the long corridor that led to the exit, Stuart embarked on a tedious monologue about one of the high-profile clients he worked with. Yasmin couldn’t help thinking how dull he was. Still, she comforted herself, in a few minutes’ time, conversation would be the last thing on his mind. The revolving entrance door was in sight when she made a sudden right turn.

Stuart frowned as Yasmin set off down a second narrower corridor. ‘I thought you said you wanted some fresh air.’

‘I’ve changed my mind,’ she replied. ‘It’ll be chilly outside.’

‘So where
are
we going?’

‘Somewhere nice and private,’ she said over her shoulder. ‘Where we won’t be disturbed.’ At the end of the corridor, she turned left, and then left again. ‘Nearly there,’ she called out as they rounded the final corner.

‘You seem to know your way around this place very well,’ Stuart remarked.

‘Oh yes,’ Yasmin replied. ‘I’ve used the club’s facilities lots of times.’

A few moments later, she stopped outside a door. ‘Here we are,’ she said, twisting the brass handle and throwing it open. ‘After you.’

Stuart stepped across the threshold. The room lay in semi-darkness, illuminated only by the fingers of watery moonlight that filtered through the Venetian blinds. Yasmin flicked a row of switches on the wall. As the lights came on, Stuart looked around in surprise. The room was a
generous size and each of the four walls was painted a different colour. In one corner sat a paddling pool, filled with brightly coloured plastic balls. Next to it was a row of easels and a large, low table, surrounded by miniature chairs. A fairytale castle with two sugar-pink turrets had pride of place atop a vast toy chest, and on the floor beside it, a stuffed Tigger sat astride a wooden trike.

‘What
is
this place?’ Stuart asked.

Yasmin laughed softly. ‘What does it look like?’

‘Um, a crèche?’

‘Got it in one.’

Stuart scratched his head. ‘So what are we doing here?’

‘I thought we could get to know each other a little better.’ Yasmin walked up to Stuart and pressed the full length of her body against him.

He rubbed his hands together. ‘Sounds like an excellent idea.’

Yasmin reached over his shoulder and pushed the light switches. As the room was plunged into shadow once more, she started kissing him. He responded enthusiastically, grinding his crotch against her, while his hands explored her exposed midriff. They kissed for several minutes and then Stuart’s hand began working its way past the waistband of Yasmin’s sequinned knickers. Suddenly she pulled away from him.

‘What’s the matter?’ he said.

She bit her lip. ‘Nothing. I’m just a bit hot, that’s all.’

Stuart smirked. ‘I’m a bit hot too,’ he said, rubbing a hand against the bulge in his trousers. ‘Now come back here.’ He pulled her towards him and thrust his tongue into her mouth. A moment later, Yasmin pushed her hands against his chest.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, backing away from him. ‘I can’t do this.’

He shook his head, clearly annoyed. ‘Then why did you bring me here?’ he snapped.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said again, before she opened the door and escaped into the corridor.

Yasmin’s cheeks were burning with embarrassment as she made her way back towards the banqueting suite. She’d had dozens of casual encounters in the past, but for some reason this time it felt all wrong. This wasn’t what she wanted any more. Not tonight – or any night.

It was two thirty in the morning by the time the last guest had vacated the banqueting suite. When the lights went up, most of the mixologists downed tools and began making their way to the staff locker room to collect their belongings before heading home. Keen to make a good impression, Dante hung back to clean up the bar area, which looked as if it had been rocked by a small explosion. With a cloth in one hand and a bottle of glass polish in the other, he began wiping down the shelves. A few minutes later, he felt the supervisor’s hand on his shoulder.

‘Don’t worry about that, Dante. The cleaners will take care of it.’

‘Are you sure?’ he replied. ‘I don’t mind helping out.’

‘No, honestly, you get off – and thanks for all your hard work. I don’t know what we’d have done without you.’

Dante pushed his damp hair out of his eyes with the back of his hand. ‘Shall I leave my uniform in the locker room?’

The supervisor shook his head. ‘Keep it. We’ve got lots
more functions coming up at the club in the next couple of months … that’s if you’re interested in working with us again.’

Dante grinned. ‘You bet I am.’

‘Great, I’ll be in touch.’

Dante was in a good mood as he collected his bag from the locker room and headed out through the staff entrance at the rear of the building. Outside, the grounds of the golf club lay quiet and still. The towering oaks cast eerie shadows on the lawn, and high above them hundreds of stars shimmered in the inky sky. Dante was whistling softly to himself as he set off along the gravel path that led to the car park. He walked slowly, enjoying the calm after the madness of the fundraiser and the feel of the cool night air on his perspiration-soaked shirt. As the clubhouse’s grand terrace came into view, he saw a shadowy figure leaning over the ornate stone balustrade, a cigarette glowing orange between their fingers. At first he thought it must be one of the waiters, but then the figure stepped beneath one of the art deco lampposts and he realized it was Orla.

‘Hey,’ he called out when he was within hailing distance. ‘What are you doing here at this time of night?’

She turned her head, smiling when she saw it was him. ‘Just chilling,’ she said in a sleepy voice. ‘Care to join me?’ She took hold of the lamppost with one hand and leaned back like a poledancer, arching her body so her feather headdress almost touched the ground.

Feeling a prick of concern that she was out here alone, Dante went over to the flight of stone steps that led to the terrace. As he drew nearer, he caught the unmistakeable whiff of marijuana.

‘What happened to Leah and the others?’ he asked her.

‘Oh, they left ages ago.’ She walked along the terrace and sat down on the top step. ‘I told them I’d make my own way home.’

‘Where do you live?’ Dante asked as he jogged up the steps towards her.

‘Newman Street. It’s less than a mile away. I’ll walk – it won’t take long.’

‘No you won’t,’ he said firmly. ‘I’ve got the car; I’ll give you a ride.’

She fixed him with her dark eyes. ‘What about Juliet?’

‘She left ages ago. She was going to get a cab with her friends.’

Orla held up the spliff. ‘Do you mind if I finish this first?’

‘Sure, go ahead,’ Dante said, unhooking his bag from his shoulder and sitting down beside her.

She took a deep draw on the spliff, then offered it to him. ‘Want some?’

He took it from her fingers and raised it to his lips. ‘Ahh,’ he said, sighing in pleasure as the smoke hit his lungs. ‘That’s just what I needed.’

She smiled. ‘Tough night was it?’

‘Tough, yeah – but a helluva lotta fun too,’ he replied. ‘And I think they liked me – the supervisor wants me to work for them again.’

‘Wow, Dante, that’s great,’ Orla said, lifting her hand in a high five. ‘Good for you.’

‘Thanks,’ he said, feeling a glow of pride as their palms slapped together. ‘How about you? How was your evening?’

She shrugged. ‘Not bad. I think the others are a bit wary of me, though.’

‘You mean Leah and Charlie?’

‘Yeah. I suppose I shouldn’t really be surprised. I am Nathan’s sister, after all, and something tells me my big brother isn’t going to win any popularity contests at Ashwicke.’

Dante took another drag on the spliff, then handed it back to Orla. ‘Yeah, well, he’s a very strange guy, your brother.’

She shrugged her eyebrows. ‘So you don’t like him either?’

‘I didn’t say that.’

‘You didn’t need to.’ She drew her fur wrap round her shoulders. ‘In any case, you’re right – he is a bit of a weirdo. Even I can see that.’

Dante leaned back against one of the stone pillars and closed his eyes. He could feel his body relaxing as the drug took effect. ‘Juliet thinks the world of him.’