‘He makes me want to choke him.’ Flowers and diamonds and mind-blowing sex, but we’re still sticking to our timeline? Really? Okay, so maybe it’s just when I overthink that I want to choke him.
Reggie’s hoot of laughter vibrates down the line. ‘Oh, I get that. I do. One of these days I’m going to make Josh wear the toilet seat as a necklace with a big D on his head.’
‘I do not need to hear about Josh’s D.’ I snort, then giggle, my friend joining in. ‘I have no complaints. And toilet seat wearing isn’t a fantasy, by the way. I’m not into the whole humiliation thing.’
‘I get it.’ I find words spilling out of my mouth. ‘I have this fantasy of helping Beckett on with his tie, we’re standing close and his hands are on my hips, his fingers almost piercing as I tighten the knot again and again until my hips are arching, and his eyes are full of panic. And I’m just loving the power.’
‘Listen to you and your bad self,’ she chuckles, still not taking me seriously. ‘That sounds like pure passion.’
‘I thought it sounded like homicide.’
‘No, you were talking about sex. And it sounds like the sex is good. Is it?’
‘The best.’The truth. ‘He makes me feel worshipped.’Another truth.
‘Oh, that is a good answer. Passion and worship. A good recipe.’
‘Or one for disaster.’ Because this will end regardless of how I feel. Regardless of how he makes me feel.
‘You know what they say; you can’t have a relationship without fights, but you can make a relationship worth the fight.’
‘That sounds suspiciously like it came from Pinterest.’
‘Are you throwing shade, girl?’
Chapter 37
OLIVIA
‘Come on, Ols. It’s not meant to be serious. It’s just for fun and a bit of publicity.’
I glance around the city bar, the velvet lined booths and wingback chairs. One cork lined wall is filled with framed black and white photos which are, on closer inspection, vintage mug shots. The rich patina of the mahogany bar, a smoky mirror behind, etched and aged. The hundred fancy bottles lined up in front of it. The cocktail menu offering liquor-laced cordials and tinctures at prices to make your eyes water.
‘This place isn’t exactly subtle, is it?’ I glance at the staff, the women behind the bar dressed like can-can dancers, the men like bootleggers in collarless shirts and suspenders, flat caps and natty little Trilby hats.
‘What?’ Miranda’s gaze follows my own, though seems to see a different space. ‘It’s cool. Sort of intimate. It doesn’t look like a knocking shop, if that’s what you mean. Besides, you chose the place. And we’ve hung out here twice since.’
I let out a long, nervous breath as I push my hand through my hair. ‘Tell me I’m panicking over nothing.’
‘You totally are. This place is the bomb. It’s got exactly the look we’re going for. It’s vibey and the punters are going to love it.’
‘Vibey,’ I repeat, looking around the place again. ‘Not more kind of refined depravity?’
‘Retro,’ she argues. ‘Someplace you’d expect to find gangsters and their molls hanging out. Pinstriped pants and jackets with wide lapels, feather boas and red painted fingernails holding thin cigarette holders.’
‘Underworld charm.’
‘It’s a bar, for goodness sakes. It’s sexy. The exact kind of place you want to be associated with. We’re selling romance here, are we not?’ I smile at her use of the majestic plural; we are amused. Very amused. But we are also very nervous. ‘Just think of how the photographs will look.’
‘You’re right, I’m just stressing.’
She’s right about the photos, too. TheEvening Newsare sending a reporter along tonight, plus a photographer, and they’ve promised us a feature in their weekend supplement. The more publicity we get, the more members we have, and the more members we have, the easier it’ll be to sell E-Volve.The aim of the game. The reason I sold my soul to Beckett and all that.
‘What do you want me to do with these?’ Heather suddenly appears next to me, a dozen small silver buckets dangling from her hands. She looks like a dairy maid off to do the milking. If dairy maids wore skinny jeans and T-shirts that declare “Brains are the new tits”.
‘Put one on each table,’ Mir directs. ‘Then put the cards inside each.’
Heather has spent the week printing out fancy prompts that are to go in the buckets, so our guests have somewhere to start. Icebreaker questions, I suppose.
