He has correctly sourced my dig. In the film, Kevin Costner describes one of Madonna’s concerts as ‘neat’, and when he leaves her dressing room, cameras catch her repeating the word and sticking her fingers down her throat. Ever since seeing the movie, that’s been my go-to word when I’m having as much fun as I would in a dental hygienist’s chair. An in-joke that nobody gets but me. Or so I thought.
‘I have two older sisters who worshipped her,’ he says. ‘They made me watch that movie as a kid and forced me to learn the dance routines. I defy you to find another straight bloke on this planet who can vogue like me.’
‘Now that I need to see.’
‘It’s okay, though,’ Brandon continues. ‘You’re allowed not to have fun. Just between us, I’d rather be upstairs.’
‘Oh would you now?’ I reply without thinking.
He grins. ‘Set myself up there, didn’t I?’ He looks around. ‘Where’s Nicu?’
‘At home.’ I shrug. ‘Probably asleep by now.’
‘Can I pour you another one?’ But before I can answer, he reaches for the bottle and tops up my glass.
‘Where’s your wife?’ I ask.
‘Fluttering about like the social butterfly she is. When we throw a party, we barely see each other.’
‘And doesn’t that bother you? That she leaves you all alone to fend for yourself?’
‘But I’m not alone, am I? Besides, I’m a big boy.’
And when he smiles at me, I know exactly what’s on his mind, because it’s exactly the same thing I am thinking. He’s going to be showing me more than just his vogue moves before the night is through.
Chapter 54
Margot
‘Get up,’ comes Nicu’s voice. It’s the first thing he’s said to me this morning and he already sounds irritated. I assume I’ve slept in past noon again.
‘What time is it?’ I reply.
‘Nine o’clock.’
I slip my eye mask up on to my forehead and turn to face him. He’s standing under the doorway, his arms tightly folded and his forehead knitted.
‘Nine o’clock on a Sunday morning?’ I ask, a little dramatically. ‘Unless the house is on fire, why would you be so cruel?’
‘I know what you did.’
‘Last summer? It’s too early for a movie quiz.’
I roll back to face the wall.
‘I know about you and him.’
He can’t see my eyes ping wide open. There’s a sharp twinge in my belly.
‘About who?’ I ask.
‘Abouthim. About what you’ve been doing behind my back. You’re a fucking arsehole.’
He turns to leave the room and I sit up in the bed. But I’ve moved too fast, and when my brain catches up with me, dizziness strikes. I half dash, half stumble to the en-suite to be sick. Only I can’t reach the toilet in time, and I vomit on the bedroom wall and skirting boards. I manage to reach the bowl when the second and third waves hit.
Shit, shit, shit!How could he know? We were careful. We made sure to go somewhere we wouldn’t be seen.
I splash water across my face and gargle mouthwash, but that only makes me retch again. How am I going to get out of this?
