Keir’s gaze follows the direction of my own. ‘He’s Chastity’s neighbour. He lives across the road, apparently. And she got a good deal on the catering, Paisley said.’
‘I reckon the bastard wants to give her more than mate’s rates.’ I glare in the direction of Chastity and the tall fucker next to her. Dark hair and slim built, he looks like he’d be more at home on a yacht rather than in a restaurant, and though I hate to admit it, the fucker looks almost as good in his suit as I do. Almost.
I’ve got my eye on you, mate. And if your hand touches the small of her back one more time, I might just twist the fucker off.Except I won’t. At least not tonight. Not on her birthday.
Keir opens his mouth, then closes it again. ‘Am I missing something here?’
‘I dunno. Are you?’
‘Are you and Chas serious?’ I frown because I hate that nickname with a fucking passion. It’s too common or garden for someone as special as her. ‘Oi. I asked you a question.’
‘Are we a thing? If a thing isin love, then I’m half of that thing. And half of a thing just isn’t a thing at all.’
‘That’s a load of—’
‘Things,’ I finish for him, agreeing.
‘I was gonna say bullshit. But you know how you find out?’ My head swings to his, pathetically hopeful. ‘You use your mouth. Ah, fuck! Wipe that expression off your face and don’t twist my advice. I don’t want to know where your mouth has been.’
‘Only on her lately.’ I put my empty whisky glass down on the table behind me and pick up the bottle of Camden Pils I was drinking earlier.
Keir shakes his head. ‘You want to know how she feels? Go ask her.’
‘Oh, it’s Charlie’s new friend! Hello, darling.’ Chastity’s aunt grabs me by the shoulders, placing a heavily lipsticked kiss on each of my cheeks. She’s a tall woman and, at a guess, the wrong side of seventy, but from what I can gather, she has more life in her than most twenty-year-olds. ‘Flynn, isn’t it?’
‘It—’
‘You have a look about you like a young Cary Grant,’ she says, grabbing my cheeks in one age spotted, heavily diamond adorned hand. ‘But something tells me you’re a little more like your namesake, Errol Flynn, than the divine Cary. He was Australian, too.’ Jesus, the woman has some grip. ‘I hope you’re treating my Charlie well.’ I open my mouth to answer, but I must look like a fish. ‘Well, with a side order of naughty. In like Flynn, eh?’ She lets go of my cheeks, sending me a saucy wink before immediately turning to Keir.
‘Camilla Wolf.’ She holds out her hand as though expecting it to be kissed, harrumphing as Keir shakes it instead. ‘Well, you’re no fun!’ she chastises before he can introduce himself. ‘I shall have to find one of those lovely film boys to get me a drink.’ She strides off as quick as she arrived.
‘Well, that was... fuck if I know,’ Keir finishes.
‘That, Keir my friend, was Aunt Camilla.’
