Ruby was grateful but she refused to give Gareth the satisfaction of knowing that. ‘Can I finish my fag first?’ She brought the cigarette to her lips and took a long drag.
Gareth was not alone in the car; in fact Ruby noted that the other two men cramped in the back seat were both very good-looking. She grinned through the smoke; maybe this wasn’t going to be a dull summer after all.
In terms of complexion, they hailed from opposite ends of the spectrum. The man seated behind Gareth was black, his face delicately composed with high cheekbones and an angular jaw. His dark eyes were heavily lashed and his lips full. His hair was sculpted into a sharp flat top. And then next to him, with light blonde curls chopped into a messy mullet, a man with pale blue eyes and freckles sketched across his cheeks. When he smiled at Ruby, a single dimple appeared – it brought a strange symmetry to his face, balancing out the piercing glinting in his right eyebrow.
Gareth had turned off the engine. ‘By all means, take your time.’ He took out a silver cigarette box from his breast pocket and lit his own time killer.
‘These are your competitors by the way.’ He vaguely gestured behind him; the blonde man gave her a wave; the black man turned to look straight ahead. ‘Behind me is Adam. He’s a dancer, and next to him is Johan, the photographer.’
‘You can call me Jojo.’ Johan’s accent was odd, an East London lilt, mixed with … something else.
‘Sorry, mate, I absolutely cannot call a grown man Jojo. How about Jo?’ Ruby threw her butt and ground it into the pavement with the heel of her boot. She walked around the front of the car and settled in next to Gareth.
Johan leant forward in his seat and whispered: ‘Darling, with a smile like yours, you can call me whatever you want.’
Ruby felt a familiar throbbing of lust migrate down her stomach and settle between her legs. She imagined what he would feel like pressing her up against a wall, and then she felt sure that it was only a matter of time before that particular little speculation became a reality. She also felt a pang of relief;maybe her little dalliance with Cindy had been an aberration. A bit of distance had already done her some good and reminded her that she did in fact fancy men.
‘In that case I’ll call you what you are, a Tired Old Rake?’ Ruby’s tone was droll but she winked at Johan in the rear-view mirror. He laughed heartily. He seemed utterly unselfconscious, comfortable in his own skin. It was hot.
‘Settle down, kids.’ Gareth threw his butt onto the road and started the engine.
It was a short drive – although the narrow roads were anything but pedestrian-friendly, Ruby thought. They drove through a pair of tall iron gates and turned around the corner. Fairfax Manor stood before them in all its sandstone glory. Ruby didn’t think she’d ever seen anywhere this posh, let alone stayed there.
The driveway melded into a large gravel circle in front of the house. In the middle of the circle stood a fountain statue of a woman whose breasts were spurting steady streams into the shallow pool at her feet. As they drew closer, the two huge burgundy doors opened and a woman stepped out. Opal Fairfax, Ruby gathered.
She was taller than Ruby had imagined, and broader. Her hair was the same colour as the sky, right before it burst into the flame of sunset. Almost peachy. It fell just past her shoulders in thick waves. She was wearing a black boiler suit belted with a tartan sash. Her hands were splattered with paint.
The car ground to a halt, and Gareth walked around the front to open the door for Ruby. She was a little stunned. The whole scene was surreal.
‘May I present Miss Ruby Tongue.’ Gareth gave a ceremonial bow as she stepped out the car, and Ruby couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Opal smiled and strode towards them.
Before she knew it, Ruby was being pulled into a hug.
‘It’s so lovely to have you here, Ruby. Thank you for coming.’ Opal’s voice was low and slightly raspy. She’d either been chain smoking since breakfast, or crying.
‘Ermm, yeah, hi, miss, thanks for having me.’ Ruby hadn’t expected to feel nervous.
From behind, she heard a chuckle. She turned to see Johan. He held his hands up, mimicking an apology, and shot Ruby a wink.
Opal, though, had already turned her attention to the boys. She seemed to glide as she moved towards them.
‘You must be Adam.’ The beautiful black man stood stock-still as Opal raised her hand and cradled his face. They held a gaze so intense that Ruby found herself compelled to both look away and look closer.
‘You have the same brow, the same eyes as Joshua,’ Opal said softly, and then turned to Gareth. ‘Doesn’t he?’
Gareth grunted and took out another cigarette from the slim silver box.
‘Thank you, Lady Fairfax, for welcoming me into your home,’ Adam replied. Ruby thought she could detect the slightest hint of an African accent, smuggled beneath his deliberate enunciation.
‘Please call me Opal, or failing that, Miss Fairfax at least.’
Ruby just spotted Gareth’s fleeting look of bemusement before it disappeared behind a puff of smoke.
‘And that’s Johan.’ Gareth seemed to be uncomfortable withthe prolonged attention Opal was giving Adam. Ruby was intrigued.
Johan extended his hand as Opal turned her attention to him. ‘Please, call me Jojo.’
‘Of course, Jojo, lovely to meet you.’ Opal narrowed her eyes slightly for a moment, and opened her mouth as if to say something more. Apparently deciding against it she turned on her heel suddenly.
