When Colm organised nights like this, there’d been an obligation to attend, to keep an eye on the quieter happenings, make sure no one overstepped their mark – whether that was an employee or a guest, or someone hoping to move onto our patch. I didn’t look like security, and technically I wasn’t. I was a fixer, and not in the mould of someone providing weapons. I sorted out messes, I found out intel, I smoothed things over.
Quietly.
Being back on a yacht for the first time in months felt strange. What was also fucking strange was that I kept looking to see if Jameson was there yet.
I had no place to look for a repeat. That would be stupid. She wasn’t a woman who would be content with a few fucks here and there; things would get complicated.
More complicated than they already were.
Guests arrived, champagne sipped. Bikinis and kaftans and shorts replaced the gowns and masks of last night. No one looked hungover, or worse for wear, the beauty of whatever else they’d taken, or how they’d pretended to be stoned or drunk as an excuse for whatever behaviour they’d displayed. Nothing I hadn’t seen before.
Things I’d rather not see again.
“Afternoon, bartender.” The voice was familiar, striking up a heavier beat to my chest, but not what I’d expected, because it wasn’t the person I wanted to see.
“What can I get you?”
Lara smiled. “Something non-alcoholic and calorie-free.”
“Water?”
“Can you make it look like something interesting?”
I nodded. “For a few extra calories. Why aren’t you drinking?”
She smiled innocently, which was exactly what Lala wasn’t. “I have a shoot in a couple of days.”
“Where?”
“A castle in France. In Cognac, I think, but I can’t really remember. I’ll be gone for about four nights.” She stretched. “It tells on your skin if you’ve drank too much recently. I need to put a break on things.”
“Not a bad idea.”
There was a delicate shrug.
I mixed her soda and mango puree, keeping it light. “Where’s your sister?”
“Somewhere here. Why you asking?”
“Keeping an eye out for her.” Something she should do from time to time.
“Cute. She thinks you’re hot. Maybe you could give her a summer to remember.”
I laughed, knowing for sure that Jameson hadn’t told her sister about last night. “Maybe your sister just wants to chill.”
Lala shook her head. “My sister needs some excitement. I worry that she’s going to become this studious old bookworm whose vagina has healed up and eats grass.”
“What?”
She laughed and shook her head. “It was a saying a friend of mine said when she’d gone awhile without a shag – it won’t heal up and it won’t start eating grass. Fuck knows where it came from, but it’s how I think of Jay Jay.” She focused back on me. “I’d be interested myself, but I think Jay likes you. She thinks you’re dangerous.”
I was. That was the problem.
“It’s because I’m older.”
“How old are you? I can’t work it out.”
“Thirty-one. How old are you?”
