As Weekends Go (Choc Lit) (12 page)

‘So, what’s the score with Rebecca?’ asked Kenny, drawing Abi against him as the DJ slowed things down further.

Abi’s stomach flipped as his hand travelled over her left buttock. ‘In what way?’

‘As in, is she happily married?’

‘Oh, do get straight to the point, why don’t you!’

‘Just curious,’ said Kenny. ‘She seemed really nervous when we first started talking to you, that’s all.’

‘With good reason,’ said Abi, laughing. ‘Alex’s fame, for a start, plus you did almost start a riot downstairs and then soak her in beer, remember? Tonight has been rather, um … lively, wouldn’t you say?’

‘
Mmm
, and it’s not over yet,’ said Kenny, nibbling her earlobe.

‘Whoa! Let’s slow things down a bit, shall we?’

He looked scolded as she lifted his hand to her waist.

‘Going back to Rebecca,’ she said, ‘what are your friend’s intentions?’

‘Who, Alex?’

‘No. Elvis Presley,’ said Abi, grinning.

‘Well, he one hundred per cent fancies her.’ Kenny nuzzled Abi’s bare shoulder. ‘Which, in my opinion, can only spell danger.’

‘Why do you say that? He must go out with loads of women,’ said Abi, playing along.

‘’Coz she’s right up his street, that’s why,’ said Kenny, sniffing a couple of times.

‘Really?’
Hook him in slowly, Abigail.
‘I mean, I know Bex is a beaut, but you’d hardly say she and Alex were compatible, what with him being a footballer and everything. I’d sort of assumed he must have a regular girlfriend. Or
two
.’

‘Oh, he’s played the field all right, but when it comes to serious relationships he’s a one-woman man. No idea why. He could shag a different bird every night of the week if he wanted to.’

Still reeling from the word relationship, Abi squirmed at Kenny’s crassness.

‘Trouble is,’ he said, ‘Stacey, his ex-girlfriend, shafted him big time. Went to some showbiz party the night Alex found out his granddad was dying. She knew how close the pair of ’em were, how cut up Alex was, but still went out, then fucked off to Las Vegas two days later with four of her mates. Things got a bit rocky between them after that, and when Alex finished with her, she sold her story to the press, which has made him wary. To be fair, she was okay when he first met her, she just had her head turned, plus Alex was younger then. Complete opposite, personality-wise, of the lovely Rebecca over there, she was.’

‘The lovely,
married
Rebecca, which would make a difference to Alex, I guess?’

‘It would normally,’ said Kenny. ‘Except he can’t take his eyes off her.’

They changed rhythm to accommodate a classic soul smoocher.

‘How are you getting back to the hotel?’ he asked, training his ‘dare to resist me’ eyes on her.

‘Taxi, I suppose,’ said Abi, weakening. ‘Why?’

‘Alex has got his car here. He could drive you and Bex back with us, if you like?’

Abi wanted to break into a samba. ‘Fine by me. If he doesn’t mind, that is. Does he usually stay this sober?’

‘Most of the time. Now and again he has a good session but, unlike Liam, he takes his profession seriously. The days of rolling up for pre-season training a stone overweight are long gone. It’s all this sports science stuff now; individual fitness programmes. Everything monitored from diet to fluid loss to heart rates.’

‘All sounds a bit technical to me. What about his personal life? Does he get much press intrusion?’ Being an avid reader of the tabloids, Abi knew how dogged the paparazzi could be.

‘Is the Pope a Catholic?’

‘That’ll be a yes, then.’

Kenny rolled his head as though loosening his neck muscles. ‘No, it’s not too bad. Alex isn’t your average stereotypical footballer. Apart from the kiss ’n tell and a couple of juicy punch ups a fair while back, the journos have got their work cut out. Anyway, he’s captain, so he has to behave.’ His face softened. ‘I love the guy to death. He’s a diamond.’

Shocked by this outwardly uncharacteristic outpouring of affection, Abi was certain that Kenny owed Alex and, for all his front and bluster, was extremely conscious of upsetting him. Or perhaps they owed each other? Why else would a seemingly clean-living, intensely private footballer hang out with a mouthy, short-tempered cokehead?

Oh, she’d had a good idea where Kenny and that Liam had sodded off to. Nothing much got past Abi. She’d known the minute she’d seen Kenny all hyped up after his fag break, what he’d been up to. As did Alex, reading the look on his face.

Kenny held her at arm’s length. ‘What are you doing tomorrow night?’

‘Not sure, yet,’ said Abi, playing it cool. ‘After tonight, Rebecca might just want a quiet one. Why?’

‘Do you fancy coming to my cousin’s restaurant? Don’t worry, it’s in York. He took it over about a year ago. Blinding, it is. Me and Alex are going. My uncle’s up here at the moment, too, so he’ll be there with his girlfriend. Bring Bex along.’

Abi somehow doubted that would happen. Once Rebecca had sobered up, bless her, she’d probably spend the rest of the weekend racked with unnecessary guilt and remorse.

Although if Abi bloody well had anything to do with it, she wouldn’t.

She snaked her arms back around Kenny’s neck. ‘We’ll see,’ she said.

Greg knocked back the remnants of the rather bland second whisky he’d plucked from the mini bar, glanced round his hutch of a balcony and groaned. Quarter to bleeding two in the morning. He had a short breakfast meeting at seven thirty with the boss and two sales managers, followed by eighteen holes of golf, yet all he could think about was Nina.

On another night, at a lesser event and in a far superior hotel, the lingering kiss they’d shared in the stairwell before they’d parted company might have landed them in bed together. It was outrageous how, after everything that had happened between them, she still made his loins leap like a pubescent teenager.

Outrageous, but enticing.

Especially given Greg’s confidence in maintaining the upper hand. They were two different people now, and he relished the challenges ahead and, indeed, the fruits of whatever that brought, business or otherwise.

He heard a noise in the street below and peered over the iron railing. A couple were leaning up against a people carrier, snogging. The man had his hand up the front of the woman’s T-shirt whilst she grappled with the belt in his trousers.

It reminded Greg of how he and Nina had been in the early days, snatching precious moments before they’d lived together. At his flat. In the back of his old Ford Sierra. Anywhere they could get their hands on each other.

He ducked back into the confines of his airless room, fearing he’d be accused of voyeurism. He’d already had one shower, albeit to cool his ardour, but it was so muggy he needed another one.

Best check his phone first.

He picked it up off the wobbly bedside cabinet. Two voice messages. He listened to the first one. Mum, regaling him with the latest from her Jersey trip. He’d only spoken to her that afternoon, thanks to Rebecca’s reminder to call her, but Dad had taken her to some posh restaurant that night and, as usual, she felt compelled to share it with him. Oh, well, it
was
her birthday. And Greg was the blue-eyed, or rather, brown-eyed boy.

The second one must be from Rebecca, Greg reasoned. But it wasn’t. It was Nina. She must have called when he was taking his first shower.

He listened to her breathlessly saying how she hoped he didn’t mind her calling his mobile and how she’d so enjoyed their chat,
giggle, giggle
, and their shared vision of how wonderful their two companies working in tandem would be; how dynamic a partnership they’d present.

So Torrison were in the bag, eh?

Greg smiled to himself at the clearest indication yet that it was a done deal.

He pictured his boss swooning over his scrambled eggs in the breakfast room. ‘Well done, Gregory, dear boy. Well done.’

Oh, the glory!

Of course, he’d have to tell Rebecca the score, which no doubt she’d worry about. Not because she was the jealous type, but because she knew the past suffering Nina had caused him. He’d play it right down, that’s what he’d do. Casually slip it in during the conversation, or perhaps when she was knee-deep in designing chavvy hen night invitations for her sister’s two-bob party shop.

Greg deleted Nina’s message. Not even a text from Rebecca, he noted. Most unlike her. Must be enjoying herself too much.

Enough to put her off getting pregnant, hopefully …

He flung his phone on the bed before heading back into the shower.

3 a.m. in Fuengirola.

Nick had downed three double vodkas on top of what he’d already drunk, and couldn’t fathom why some woman who looked vaguely familiar to him was yacking on about some shit party in the marina she’d been to, and how she was
soooo
glad he was still in the bar when she and her friends had returned.

Cassie
. Yeah, that was her name. Or was it Carrie?

They’d shifted aside some of the now-empty tables and chairs on the terrace and were going on at Nick about them all having a little dance together.

Dance?
What with his blistered back? Were they having a laugh?

Nick staggered to his feet. Already sweating like a donkey, he supposed he could at least give it a shot.

‘Go on, my son,’ shouted Gary Swan, clapping him on his way.

Nick gave him the V sign, vaguely aware of someone’s hand on his arse as he stumbled forward. Cassie’s boobs seemed to double in size as she launched herself at him, and wrapped her legs around his waist.

‘Hold up,’ he shouted, caught off-balance and almost crashing to the ground under the weight of her. He could have done with an oxygen mask when he lurched back over to where Deano was standing.

‘Smile, you bastard,’ shouted Gary, snapping his picture.

‘Poor Nick,’ said Cassie, staining his cheek with several lipstick kisses.

‘’Ere, Cassie, have you got a minute?’ said Gary, beckoning her over to him.

Nick watched the two of them, heads together, giggling. Too pissed to care, he turned his back on them, deciding that he might as well have a quick kip on the comfy ledge he was leaning against. Who the hell would notice?

‘
Wakey, wakey!
’ Gary’s voice startled him out of his stupor.

Nick lifted his head from the ledge to see Cassie smiling down at him.

‘Hello, sexy,’ she said, ‘fancy a stroll along the beach now that you’ve had your little catnap?’

Nick wondered if he’d heard her right. ‘What was that?’

‘I thought we could go somewhere a bit more private to chat,’ said Cassie, lips fully puckered.

Fair enough, Nick thought. ‘Yeah, why not.’ He saw Deano shake his head at him.

‘Hold on, mate.’ Deano tugged Nick’s arm back. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Going for a walk,’ said Cassie, answering for him. ‘To
talk
.’

‘This is your fault,’ said Deano, jabbing a finger at Gary.

‘Oh, come off it,’ said Gary, smirking. ‘He’s not a kid. You’re just jealous because
you
haven’t pulled. It’s a stag do, in case you hadn’t noticed. He’s so pissed, he won’t remember shit-all, anyway.’

Deano drew Nick to one side. ‘This is in danger of going too far, man. Don’t risk losing Abi for that moose.’

‘It’s just a chat,’ Nick slurred. Barely able to stand, he plonked his hands on Deano’s shoulders. ‘Don’t worry, mate. I won’t do anything stupid. Trust me.’

Rebecca thought she’d regained control of her emotions until she locked eyes with Alex again. He was walking back towards the booth, having been collared by Kenny for a chat on his way back from the gents, which had at least given her and Abi a bit of a breather, even if they had spent it, heads together, gossiping.

Probably just as well everyone was gearing up to leave.

‘Ready, girls?’ yelled Kenny. ‘Alex is driving us all back.’

‘Ooh, sorry, Bex, I forgot to tell you that bit,’ said Abi, squeezing her arm.

‘It’s all right, he won’t charge you,’ said Kenny, grinning down at them both.

Rebecca heard her mother’s voice again.
‘Don’t ever get into a stranger’s car, Becky.’
Although to be fair, Alex was no more a psycho than Rebecca was a whore.

Jermaine, the friendly head doorman they’d met earlier, wandered into view. ‘Hello, girls,’ he boomed, crushing them to his huge chest in a bear hug. ‘Been looking after you tonight, have they?’ He bumped shoulders with Alex. ‘Give us your key, bruv. I’ll bring your motor round for you.’

Alex handed it to him, then motioned Rebecca away from Abi and Kenny.

‘It’s best we go out the back way, in case anyone spots us,’ he said. ‘Jermaine will park as close to the door as possible. Don’t worry. We’ll use the passageway again.’

Rebecca’s eyes widened. ‘By anyone, do you mean photographers?’

She imagined Greg’s boss over breakfast down near Brighton. ‘Isn’t that Rebecca with that soccer chappie?’ holding a Sunday tabloid at arm’s length, like a rogue sparkler.

Bit of luck, he only read the broadsheets.

Alex nodded. ‘Possibly. No doubt someone’s tipped them off,’ he said, running a hand over his hair. ‘I’m just glad Liam’s gone, or they’d have had a field day. You and Abi get in the car first, and as soon as Jermaine gives us the word, we’ll follow. The windows are tinted, so once we’re inside, it’ll be fine. I promise.’

Jeez. What was this?
The Great Escape.

‘Okay,’ she said, beckoning Abi over to brief her.

‘Don’t stress,’ said Abi, all smiles. ‘I’ll make sure if they snap us, they get your best side. Blagging it with Nick’ll be a cinch. Greg, on the other hand …’

‘Car’s here, girls,’ said Kenny, making them both jump.

‘Go with Abi,’ said Alex, laying a hand on Rebecca’s shoulder. ‘You’ll be fine.’ His phone buzzed. ‘Yeah. Cheers, Jermaine. We’ll be right there.’

He led them back down the spiral staircase. From what Rebecca could make out, he hadn’t even risked a goodbye to his hostess friend. If it was like this every time he went out, give her anonymity any day.

Jermaine stood waiting by a fire exit for them. It occurred to Rebecca how much he looked like an MI5 agent, the way he kept popping his head outside and adjusting his earpiece.

‘Black XF, straight in front of you, ladies,’ he said, giving them the all clear. ‘It’s open.’

Abi herded Rebecca into the right car. ‘Nice wheels, Bex’ she said, slamming the door behind them. ‘Top of the range.’

A brief image of the rear door opening and several thousand watt flashbulbs going off, skipped through Rebecca’s mind. ‘Can you see anyone?’

‘No one unsavoury,’ said Abi.

Kenny wrenched open Rebecca’s door. ‘Get in the front, babe!’

Rebecca didn’t argue. The sooner they got out of there, the better.

She scampered into the front passenger seat, nearly wetting herself as Alex jumped in beside her and pressed the pulsing red start button. It was like they had an invisible conductor on board; rotating air-vents, silver gear selector rising up from the console, touch-screen display bursting into life before he pulled away. As rides went, she’d have dished out the gold medal. The leather seat moulded itself around her body, and the air con felt blissful.

‘Beautiful car, Alex,’ said Abi. ‘I love Jags.’

He smiled at her in his rear-view mirror, indicating left onto an unmade road.

‘It’s all right,’ he said, seeing Rebecca pitch forward in her seat and grip the dashboard. ‘It’s quicker this way.’

‘That Jermaine bloke seems nice,’ said Abi, oblivious.

‘Yeah, he is,’ said Alex, negotiating a pothole. ‘He and Kenny are virtually related. Eh, Millsy?’

‘What was that?’ Kenny shoved his head between the front seats.

‘Jermaine,’ said Alex. ‘Him and Tanya are getting married next year, aren’t they?’

‘Who’s Tanya?’ said Rebecca, knowing full well that she was Kenny’s sister. She’d remembered Danny saying as much in the bar yesterday, but didn’t let on.

‘My younger sister,’ said Kenny, on cue. ‘They live together. Not far from me, in Leeds.’

‘Oh, right.’ Rebecca kept her eyes on the road ahead. She knew, without doubt, she could trust Alex and the certainty of this unnerved her.

Alex touched the sound system. Paul Weller came on, singing a fabulous cover version of a song she adored. Rebecca could hardly believe it.

‘I love Paul Weller,’ she said, realising that Alex might not actually be a fellow fan, and that it could instead be the radio. ‘Is this a CD? I’m not sure I recognise it.’

‘Yes. It’s a CD,’ bellowed Kenny, over her shoulder. ‘One I have to listen to every time I get in this bleedin’ car.’

Alex ignored him. ‘
Studio 150
,’ he said to Rebecca, answering her original question before driving through the gates of Hawksley Manor.

They rounded the fountain. It looked resplendent by night, bathing the entire front of the manor in tangerine coloured segments of light.

As Alex pulled into the car park, Rebecca noticed how quiet it was, the only sound audible being the crickets singing to each under the starry sky.

The four of them crunched across the gravel, up the steps and into the lobby, deserted, apart from the lone receptionist sitting reading a newspaper behind the desk. He was about sixty, with a silver-grey quiff and half-moon glasses.

‘Better looking than The Doberman,’ Abi whispered to Rebecca. ‘She must have retired to her kennel for the night.’

Alex shook the man’s hand. ‘On your own tonight?’

He gave Alex a warm smile. ‘Not for long, Mr Heath. My colleague’s just out the back eating his sandwich,’ he said, acknowledging Kenny too. He asked Alex how their evening had gone, before launching into a conversation with him about football.

Abi and Kenny, meanwhile, stood peering into an empty glass cabinet. Kenny was telling her how it usually contained watches, one of which he’d bought earlier that year.

‘Four grand!’ said Abi, when he revealed the price. ‘No wonder they lock them away at night.’

Rebecca felt embarrassed standing there, so took refuge by the bar, which was in complete darkness.

3.10 a.m. Not surprising, really.

‘Ready, my lovely?’ Abi waved their key cards under her nose. ‘Alex and Kenny are going to escort us upstairs.’

The receptionist gave both women a polite smile as they passed by the desk.

‘Have you got a mini bar in your room?’ said Kenny winking at Abi, halfway up the stairs.

‘Yes, thanks,’ she said, winking back at him. ‘I’ll let you know what it’s like.’

Alex grinned at Rebecca then hung back a bit, letting Abi and Kenny go further on.

‘Bet you’re glad to be back, aren’t you?’ he said, stopping on the first landing.

‘Well, let’s just say that I hope my next visit to a nightclub, should I be mad enough to ever venture into one again, will be slightly less eventful,’ said Rebecca, leaning against the wall for support. The alcohol had taken its toll. She felt done in. ‘Thank you, though, Alex.’

‘For what?’

‘For everything,’ she said. ‘You’re so nice to talk to.’
Shut up, Rebecca, before you say something foolish.
‘Although I do wish you’d let me give you some money. Those drinks tonight must have cost a small fortune.’

‘Don’t be silly, it was worth every penny,’ he said, lightly pressing his fingers to her lips, strengthening the spark between them. ‘You don’t have to thank me for anything.’