Strings Attached (41 page)

‘Bonus would be nice,’ Marisa called out loudly.

‘How about lunch?’ George suggested.

‘Yeah I’m like starving. But nothing accompanied by a sauce, because I’ve been looking at sauce like all day,’ Marisa said.

‘OK then, let’s hit the clubhouse. Lunch and drinks on me,’ George announced.

‘Are you serious? You’re going to pay?’ Marisa quizzed, looking at George with suspicion.

‘That’s what I said. So come on, how about it? Before I change my mind,’ George said, taking off her apron.

‘Come on Team Marisa, let’s go!’ Marisa said, leading the charge for the door.

He wasn’t listening to a word that was being said. They could have been talking in Hebrew and he wouldn’t have noticed. He was circling his glass of wine with the thumb on his left hand. He had another headache, but he was damned if he was going to tell Roger that. There was no use thinking up excuses to stop the wedding now, it was too late. The snowball was of avalanche proportions and there was no halting it. He closed his eyes and immediately she came to mind. If he tried really hard, he could almost block out the incessant American drawl of Roger, running through the projects Brand Blake would be involved in straight after the nuptials.

‘Quinn! Are you listening to me?’ Roger barked.

He snapped his eyes open and swallowed, steadying the glass of wine as it rocked on the table.

When they arrived at the clubhouse
they were
stopped at the front door by a moustached Spaniard in the La Manga Resort’s green and yellow uniform.

‘I am afraid there is a dress code,’ he said, looking at the jeans, cargo trousers and shorts worn by the majority of the group.

‘Since when? I had ice cream sundaes in here the other day and I was wearing jeans then. You’re making it up,’ Marisa announced.

‘I am afraid we have a private function in the
Ballesteros
suite...
’ the man began again.

‘Well which is it? Either you have a dress code or you have a function we’re no
t invited to! Make your mind up!
’ Marisa exclaimed angrily.

‘We’re here for lunch,’ George informed him.

‘A la carte, table d’hôte, we’re not fussy. Table for ten,’ Marisa continued her new found confidence bubbling over.

‘I’m afraid
...
’ the employee began again.

‘No, ‘I’m afraid’ doesn’t cut it. We’re guests of Quinn Blake. Don’t make me call him,’ Marisa said warningly.

‘I apologise Madam. This way please,’ the employee said and he proceeded to lead them into the restaurant.

‘Marisa! You name
-
dropper!’ Sally shrieked excitedly.

‘Oh dear, I don’t think this was exactly what you meant to happen,’ Helen said, reddening as she saw what was about to occur.

Quinn was sitting at a table with Michael and Roger. The La Manga Resort employee was directing their group to join them.

All three men stood up as the Finger Food party of ten arrived and the employee started to pull out chairs for them to sit on.

‘What’s going on here?’ Roger demanded to know.

‘Er, it’s a mistake. We aren’t appropriately dressed and Marisa said we were your guests s
o we could get in and eat and...
’ George began, trying not to notice how hot Quinn looked in the thin white shirt he was wearing.

‘Is mistake?’ the waiter asked almost upending a chair as he pushed it back in and left Helen without a seat.

‘
Pablo,
está bien.
Ellos son mis
invitados.
M
ás vino
para la mesa
por favor
,’ Quinn spoke hurriedly.

‘What did you say to him?’ Roger wanted to know, sitting down again.

‘I said it was fine and I ordered some more wine. Hello everybody,’ Quinn greeted, smiling and retaking his seat.

‘Hello,’ everyone muttered nervously.

The catering assistants were overawed by being in the presence of someone as famous as Quinn. The girls started to giggle and nudge each other.

‘George darling, a bad night last night. All your lovely food going to waste and those naughty chaps thinking it was fun to make an idiot out of me. Thank you so much for coming to my rescue. She’s a hero I tell you, stepped right into the breach,’ Michael remarked as George sat down opposite him.

‘I’m not sure about that,’ she answered, feeling Quinn’s gaze falling on her.

‘This is insane. How can we discuss anything now?’ Roger wanted to know, throwing down his napkin.

‘I thought we’d made all the decisions we had to,’ Quinn replied not taking his eyes from George.

‘There are some matters that haven’t been finalised. The honeymoon photo shoot, the press release for the perfume, the film premiere in Cannes, the
...
’ Roger rattled off.

‘Christ Roger! Can we not have lunch without discussing a freaking strategy?’ Quinn blasted.

He picked up his wine and downed the contents.

‘Perfume? Ooo, what sort of perfume?’ Marisa queried, biting into a bread roll.

‘It has lavender in it. It smells like a mortuary, don’t buy it,’ Quinn told her.

‘QUINN! You can’t say that! You’re endorsing the product!’ Roger yelled.

‘If you don’t want to stay and eat with us, then feel free to leave,’ Quinn said, staring at him.

‘Are you trying to tell me what to do?’ Roger wanted to know.

Quinn ignored him and poured himself another glass of wine.

The table silenced as everyone waited to see what was going to happen next.

‘I’m done here. It’s a circus,’ Roger said, rising to his feet and pushing in his chair.

‘No, that’s tomorrow,’ Quinn muttered under his breath.

‘Roger, come my man. You ordered the liver and onions didn’t you? Don’t let it go to waste, I’ve heard it’s divine. Think of the succulent, velvety meat washing over your taste buds. Bliss,’ Michael said as Roger brushed past Helen on his way out from behind the table.

‘You eat it Michael. You savour every last morsel. I haven’t the stomach for it,’ Roger growled.

He turned his back on the party and strode out of the room.

‘Ooo get him. I like liver and onions. What can we have George? Just one course? Because if it’s just one course, I might just have to have ice cream,’ Marisa announced.

‘Have whatever you want, I’m paying.
Pablo, un poco de champán
,’ Quinn ordered.

‘You don’t have to do this. It’s my treat because they worked hard,’ George told him.

‘And you’re all working for me, so I insist I pay,’ Quinn spoke.

‘Is there room for one more?’

George looked up at the sound of Adam’s voice. He looked pale and exhausted, but he smiled at Marisa who stood up and threw her arms around him.

‘Sit down you idiot. Who cares who your mum is? You do not leave me in charge of peeling oranges, we agreed at the start remember! We’re both going to get citrus fingers on this job,’ Marisa said, pulling out the chair next to her and virtually forcing him down into the seat.

‘Good, everyone’s here. Let’s get your orders taken,’ Quinn said, beckoning another waiter.

Adam hadn’t spoken to her, but he had joined in with conversation at the table. Quinn had sung his praises and professed him to be his successor in the music business. George had seen Adam bristle with pleasure at that. He was enjoying knowing someone so highly regarded held him in high regard too. It was a start, sitting at the same table, but it still felt awkward. She didn’t want to catch his eye. She didn’t want to make him feel embarrassed, or talk to him and have him ignore her. But at least he wasn’t shouting at her. It was a definite improvement on the night before.

After they had eaten George went out onto the terrace. She had a headache and she needed some fresh air. She took a swig of her lager and looked out o
ver the golf course. The middle-
aged men playing in the Spanish sun made her think of her dad. She had never really understood how someone as placid as her dad had ended up marrying someone as ferocious as her mother. Perhaps he’d been forced into it. Maybe forced marriages weren’t uncommon. Perhaps there were thousands of forced marriages no one knew about. Or it could simply be that opposites did attract.

‘Hey,’ Quinn greeted, pulling up a chair next to her.

‘Hi.’

‘You OK?’

‘Headache. Think it’s the garlic fumes from the wedding breakfast I’ve been preparing.’

‘Sounds terrific,’ Quinn answered with a smile.

‘Good. We’ve worked our fingers to the bone this morning.’

‘Taylor came to see you.’

‘Yeah.’

‘And how was that for you?’

‘Embarrassing, totally as it should have been. I’m lucky she didn’t thump me back.’

‘That isn’t her style. I guess she might have swung her handbag at you, but that would have been as far as she would have gone.’

‘I’ve seen how big her bag is. It could do some serious damage,’ George replied with a smile.

Quinn smiled back at her and moved his chair until their knees were touching. It was both agony and ecstasy all at once. As usual, he was so close but still so far away.

‘I want to kiss you but everyone’s in there and
...
’ Quinn whispered to her.

‘I know.’

‘George, you do know I don’t want to marry her don’t you?’

‘Yeah, I get that. I think.’

‘And you know how I feel about you.’

‘I think so.’

‘Believe it.’

‘I do. It’s just now the wedding’s tomorrow, it all seems a bit final.’

‘It isn’t final.’

‘Marriage should be though.’

‘So, George Fraser is a believer in the sanctity of marriage is she?’ Quinn said with a laugh.

‘Why is that so hard to believe?’

‘Because I had you down as someone who would burn her bra for equal rights, not someone who would want to dress up in a white meringue and waltz down the aisle.’

‘Just because I wear a lot of jeans and drink beer, doesn’t mean I’m not a traditional girl at heart.’

‘So you’d do the whole white wedding, chicken and garlic sauce, chocolate flan thing if you were asked?’ Quinn enquired, taking off his sunglasses and surveying her.

‘Well, I’d have to check out a whole range of white jeans for the occasion obviously,’ George answered, playing with the ring around her neck.

Quinn smiled and then he took a long, drawn out breath.

‘Look, I’m going to tell you something and I don’t want you to interrupt me or say anything, OK?’ Quinn told her seriously.

‘What?’

‘Promise me. Don’t stop me. Let me get it all out there. Yeah?’

‘OK,’ George agreed.

‘OK,’ Quinn said, taking another deep breath.

He looked nervous and George wanted to reach for his hand, but Michael and the table of catering assistants were just inside, parted from them only by the glass doors. Michael was onto another bottle of fizzy apple and Marisa was tucking into her third ice cream. Adam looked happy too, sat close to Marisa, filling up her glass with water every now and then.

She looked back to Quinn and saw the tension in his face.

‘The accident I had really messed me up. I mean, really messed me up. Apart from almost dying and being in a coma for all that time, my body was wrecked. When I hit that truck, I wasn’t wearing a helmet and when they removed the bandages I looked something like Fredd
y
Krueger. I was hideous. I looked like something out of a freaking horror movie,’ Quinn informed her.

George swallowed. She reached for him but loud laughter suddenly filtered out from inside and she quickly retracted her arm.

‘Reconstructive surgery isn’t cheap and I didn’t have insurance. Back then, I thought
I
was destined to look like The Elephant Man for the rest of my life. There was stuff they could do, but it wasn’t very sophisticated and I wasn’t likely to see any real improvement for years.  But one day, I don’t know why, I just decided to stop hiding in my room and I went to the communal area where they had a piano. I played, all day that day and every day after that. My sight still wasn’t great, but I played from memory. I have no idea where the music came from, or even how I knew how to play, I just did. It was like it came naturally. Then, one day, one of the plastics doctors hears me play, and a few weeks later Roger comes into the hospital. He sits and listens to me. I have no idea who he is, but he tells me he likes my music and he’s willing to pay for state of the art, breakthrough surgery that’s never been tried before, as long as I agree to sign for his record label. It was like a miracle. I had nothing to lose and everything to gain. Here was someone who was going to fund my treatment, radical, life changing, treatment and all he wanted was for me to sign a record deal with him. I mean can you imagine that? I had this f**ked up face, this broken body and here was a guy offering me the world,’ Quinn explained.