As the majority of the diners are dressed in their best suits and cocktail gowns, it is no wonder Abbey and Alex are garnering so much attention. Abbey is wearing an off the shoulder, dark green top with black skinny jeans and ankle boots. Had Alex told her how posh this restaurant actually is, she would have at the very least worn a dress.
She feels out of place and incredibly self-conscious and has done since the moment they sat down. Alex on the other hand, is portraying his usual cool, calm and collected demeanour, seemingly unfazed by the ignorant stares and whispers resonating from the other patrons. In fact if Abbey didn’t know any better she would say he is enjoying it, leaning back in his chair and casually resting a full glass of wine on his leg. He is wearing his faded blue Levi’s, a black shirt and his black leather jacket, which isn’t exactly in line with the dress code. He looks like a real bad boy from the wrong side of the tracks - which is exactly what he is - and his cocky arrogance is taunting the ‘well to do’, upper class snobs around him to no end. Abbey smiles at him, shaking her head slightly, and Alex’s mouth twitches up into a sly smile. He knows.
“Here you are…” The waiter passes them both a dessert menu, hovering for a brief moment, before turning his attention to another table nearby.
“So what will it be?” Alex asks, unaffected.
“I don’t know, I’m pretty full…” The starter and main course weren’t exactly generous in portion size but they were absolutely delicious and surprisingly filling. The Michelin starred gourmet cuisine is like nothing Abbey has ever tasted and she is reluctant to miss out on a third course, but Alex is paying, which she feels guilty about.
“If you want one get one…” He smiles, taking a sip of wine.
“No expense spared?”
“None what so ever Abbey, not when it comes to you…” He laughs, “Besides… it’s funny, watching them squirm. They’re convinced we’re going to make a run for it…”
“Really? How do you know that?”
“Call it intuition… I’ve had people look down on me my whole life, you get used to it, start seeing the signs…”
“And you don’t play up to it at all, do you?” She giggles.
“Like I said… it amuses me…” He smiles back, but his expression hardens slightly and his tone becomes serious, “I remember how people used to treat my Ma after she left my old man. We lived in a rundown house, with no heating, we had no money for food, and people judged her. My Dad was an abusive drunk, but they treated her like she was the failure. She eventually got back on her feet, but when she’d needed help the most, people turned their backs. She wasn’t good enough in their eyes. It’s that sort of ignorance I enjoy raising my middle finger to from time to time…” He downs his wine and puts his glass back on the table, “I may not earn an honest living, but I have money…” He winks.
“Well, in that case I will have the cheesecake please…” Abbey smiles, trying to keep the conversation light despite the fact she is reeling from the sudden and unexpected glimpse into Alex’s past. It explains a lot about him and she wants to know more, she always wants to know more, but she hates to see him brooding and distant so decides to let it go for now as he places their order.
“So, once you’ve wined and dined me what else have you got planned?” She asks, suppressing the butterflies in her stomach.
“I was thinking we could grab a few more drinks around town then head back to the flat for…”
“For?”
“For… more dessert…” Alex grins, “Unless there’s something you’d rather do…?”
“No… that sounds perfect…” She agrees, blushing.
Alex raises his eyebrows teasingly and smirks again as he tops up their glasses with the last of the Rioja. Abbey throws her napkin at him from across the table and they laugh as the elderly couple next to them tut disapprovingly.
“Less of that Miller, we’re in a classy establishment here…”
“I thought you said you enjoyed getting a rise out of them…?”
“I suppose I did say that…”
“Well then… what’s the problem?” Abbey bats her eyelashes innocently as she runs her foot up the inside of Alex’s leg.
“You’re certainly getting a ‘rise’ out of me…” He whispers through gritted teeth, as he instinctively leans across the table, and Abbey does the same, grabbing him by the shirt collar and pulling him forward into a deep, lingering kiss.
“Disgraceful…” He murmurs against her lips, “You’ll give that old fella a heart attack if you’re not careful…!”
Abbey sits back in her chair, crosses her legs and straightens her top in an overly exaggerated lady like fashion, while smiling sweetly at the gawping couple sitting next to them. They are not the only ones who are staring and Abbey feels a rush of excitement as she takes a delicate sip of wine.
Before she can speak again, Alex begins to laugh under his breath and he shakes his head at the table in disbelief, trying and failing to hide his amusement.
“What?” Abbey asks.
“I was actually thinking about skipping drinks and heading straight back to the flat, now that you’ve got me all worked up…” Abbey’s stomach lurches, “But there may be a slight change of plan…”
“What do you mean?” She frowns, mildly disappointed.
“Two questions…”
“OK…”
“Firstly… how badly are you wanting this cheese cake, because I think we’re about to be asked to leave…”
“God, I only kissed you it’s hardly a hanging offence…!” Alex laughs loudly, downs his wine and throws his napkin on the table.
“Secondly… how much were you set on it being just the two of us tonight?” His eyes are bright with amusement and she suddenly realises that every time he laughs, his attention is drawn behind her to the street outside. She turns slowly, and there, in the window of the most exclusive, up market restaurant in the entire City are Lucy, Nathan, Liam, Tom, Darren, Sophie and Gemma.
Liam, Darren and Sophie are blowing raspberries on the glass, causing their cheeks to fill with air and widen comically while leaving streaky marks beneath their lips. Gemma is waving enthusiastically, and Lucy and Nathan are flailing about, pulling all sorts of ridiculous faces. Tom is next to them, knocking on the window, pointing, swearing and beckoning them outside.
“Friends of yours…?” The waiter asks as he appears beside them with a plate of cheese cake in each hand.
“I’m afraid so…” Alex confirms, in mock disappointment.
“They don’t get out much, not without supervision…” Abbey stammers slightly, and she tries to suppress her laughter as Alex cracks up again.
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to settle the bill and leave…”
“How much are we talking?” Alex stands menacingly and the restaurant starts to buzz with a mixture of ardent disapproval and anticipation.
“It’s £238.75 altogether…” He states, expectantly.
Alex takes his wallet out and drops £300 in twenties onto the table, much to the shock of the waiter and the numerous others who have been watching them non-discreetly all evening. Abbey finishes her wine and quickly puts her jacket on as Alex holds his hand out to her, smiling ominously at the waiter.
“Keep the change…” he states in a mildly threatening manner, before he casually drapes his arm over Abbey’s shoulders and guides her through the crowded restaurant. The others approach them outside, still laughing as they greet them, drunkenly.
“Sorry to interrupt your date, but we thought you might want to ditch the first class posers and come and have some proper fun?!” Lucy announces flamboyantly as she steps forward and hugs them both.
“What was all that about?” Tom asks.
“It’s nothing… they were just surprised we paid the bill…” Abbey shakes her head, rolling her eyes irritably.
“They giving you hassle?”
“No…” Alex frowns, “Just the usual stuck up
arseholes you find in a place like that…” He shrugs, lighting up a cigarette.
“Is that right…” Tom laughs loudly, “So they think they’re all important eh? Don’t they know who the fuck you are?! No one disses my boy…” He shouts, striding back over to the vast window as the others stare at him in shock. They watch as he bangs on the glass so hard that it shakes and the people still attempting to enjoy their expensive meals inside drop their cutlery as they look up in disgust, “You might be sitting in there with your sharp suits and your designer dresses, flashing your expensive watches with all your family heir looms hanging around your neck. But you ‘aint nobody…” He shouts dramatically, raising his arms out to the side in an over exaggerated fashion, as if he is a performer on a stage and this is his audience, “Life isn’t measured by how big your house is, by how many cars you own or the size of your fucking bank account… life is measured by moments, real fucking moments, of joy and laughter and pain and confusion. So while you’re sat there eating at your fancy restaurant just know that you’ll never be as alive as us… you’ll never know how alive you can feel, being fucked up, out of your mind, coasting through life without a plan or a clue… filling the dull, meaningless void with real love, real friends, real memories… living each day like it counts. We’re the kings and queens… we own the night… we live life with no regrets, and because our minds are open and we’re free from the mediocracy of control and repression, we will ALWAYS be far fucking richer than you…!”
The others burst into a huge, rapturous round of applause, cheering and wolf whistling as Tom takes a dramatic bow. People passing by on the street who had stopped to listen are clapping too, and he lights up a cigarette, turning slowly with his arms out stretched, relishing the moment.
There is a sudden flash of blue light at the end of the road and a siren sounds as they all turn and run in the opposite direction. As Tom catches up to them, Alex hooks his arm around his neck and gently pulls him down into an affectionate headlock.
“What the fuck are you on tonight?!” He laughs, messing his hair up before releasing his grip.
“Just high on fucking life mate…!” He replies, pushing him back playfully.
The Locke pub is absolutely packed to the rafters like it usually is on a Friday night, and Abbey fights her way to the bar with Darren as the others find a table in the beer garden. Alex is mobbed as soon as he walks through the door, shaking hands with numerous members of staff and stopping to talk to several people who Abbey recognises as regulars.
There are four hip looking Indie lads setting up their equipment on the stage at the back of the bar and the atmosphere is lively and friendly, with groups of people varying in age, laughing, drinking and enjoying the start of their weekend. The meal had been wonderful, and the alone time with Alex even more so… but this is their scene. This is where they belong. In their down to earth local with the people they love. Abbey is very much at home here and she feels safe, completely accepted as part of the crowd that everybody knows and respects. It is an exhilarating feeling; being a part of a group and having people know her name. Just like they know that she is Alex Matthews girl.
She has caught a few men giving her admiring glances before now, but they would never dream of acting on it, knowing that she is taken and knowing who by. Just like the gang of girls who frequent the pub hoping to catch the attention of Alex and the rest of the lads would never be brave enough to actually approach their table. Instead giggling, whispering and admiring from afar like a flock of infatuated groupies.
They are living the high life - and Tom is right - there is no greater feeling in the world. Kings and Queens he had called them, and it certainly feels that way sometimes. They live by their own rules. They do what they want, when they want and they have the most amazing time, with no worries or responsibilities, especially once the weekend arrives. They party it up, live life to the full and don’t have to answer to anyone. Abbey never knew it could be this way. She never knew life could be so exciting, so unpredictable and so much fun. Certain people may disapprove of them but they are usually the same people who radiate jealousy and understandably so. They are well known, well liked, well respected, close knit and from the outside, utterly untouchable. Life is good and Abbey is certain it can’t possibly get any better.
But how long can it last? Living a life of excess will surely catch up with them somehow. Being free and not conforming, having a blatant disregard towards the expected ‘norms’ of society… it must come with a price. Nobody gets to live so freely without any repercussions what so ever, and secretly, Abbey is starting to worry that the bubble will burst. As limitless and invincible as they may feel in their own private world, nothing this good can last forever. Kings and Queens are over-ruled, thrones are lost and nobody is immune to losing everything. It is all so incredibly fleeting, and unbeknownst to them they are about to discover just how easily it can all come crashing down around them. It really doesn’t matter how high they soar because they aren’t untouchable, despite what they believe. Even angels fall.
Alex is exhausted. It is 2am and after almost four hours of working the club, he is on the verge of calling it quits and heading home. Last night’s festivities had once again continued into the early hours of the morning and even after he had taken himself off to bed, he’d struggled to sleep. His insomnia seems to be getting worse these days.
The pounding music is starting to give him a headache and he can feel his eyes stinging from fatigue. He has made a good profit tonight, with plenty of revellers seeking him out for a decent score. He had received a message from one of his regulars about an hour ago and has arranged to meet him outside the club, away from the CCTV cameras and prying eyes. After this drop, he is done.
“Alright mate…” Alex turns to see his final customer approach.
“Now then, how’s it going?”
“Not bad, cheers. You got the stuff?”
“Yeah… not a problem…” Alex makes the exchange, the drugs for a nice wad of cash. Easy money.
“Cheers for coming through man. I’m on a bit of a blow out tonight, really need this…”
“Don’t mention it. Have a good one yeah?”
They keep it brief so as not to rouse suspicion, shaking hands before they go their separate ways. Alex prides himself on being careful. He is always vigilant and a constant professional. In his opinion, it doesn’t matter how good you are at what you do, if you become blasé you trip up and make careless mistakes. He will never get too friendly with his clients, and he will never, ever, under any circumstances, become cocky about not getting caught. He knows that anyone could be undercover police and although he has a deal in place with the owner of this bar, he will of course deny all knowledge if the law gets involved. It is his neck on the line and he always conducts himself in a way that protects his interests as well the interests of those around him.
“Are you Alex Matthews?” A tall, dark skinned man in his mid to late thirties appears at the end of the alleyway just as Alex slides his wallet back into the pocket of his jeans.
“Depends who’s asking…” He answers, cautiously.
“I was hoping to get a deal?”
“Were you now? And you are?”
“We have a friend in common, or you supply to a friend of mine… he gave me your name. He’s inside the club now, I can go find him if you want?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about mate, sorry. You must have the wrong guy…”
“Look I’m not police OK?” The man steps forward, blocking Alex’s path, preventing him from getting past, “I just want a gram, that’s all…”
“Get out of my way…” Alex squares up to him and he bows to the intimidation.
“Please… look I have money…”
“I don’t care…”
“Please…” The man scrambles nervously in his pockets as he edges forward, rambling incoherently the whole time. Alex backs away to keep a steady distance between them - not th
reatened, just wary – and he waits for the opportune moment to make his move. He could have floored him by now and easily fought his way past, but something about the man makes him think twice. He almost feels sorry for him, standing in a damp, secluded alleyway begging a complete stranger for drugs. It is pathetic.
“I’m only gonna ask you politely one more time… move…” Alex threatens; irritated by this unexpected inconvenience when all he wants to do is go home. Suddenly, the man stops and looks up, assessing Alex closely for a brief moment before he begins to back away, “What the fuck is your problem?” Alex asks, but the man says nothing. He simply turns and walks briskly back out onto the street and disappears around the side of the building.
Something isn’t right, his behaviour was strange… too strange. Something about the last 5 minutes is seriously off and it doesn’t add up. Alex is completely on edge as he stands, running over the confrontation in his mind at lightning speed. ‘He didn’t threaten, he didn’t attack… he didn’t go for the money or the drugs, he wasn’t in any way offensive or violent, but he was forward… overly forward… he wouldn’t stop approaching, wouldn’t stop pushing… so much so he physically forced me back…’ And then it clicks. The man only stopped once Alex had taken his final step backwards. A step which had plunged him into the shadows and distanced him far enough away from the main road not to be seen, noticed… or heard.
It takes a matter of seconds for Alex to work it out and for the thought to register in his mind, when he suddenly senses movement behind him. He turns, and almost instantly there is a loud nauseating crunch followed by a severe jolt of pain as a fist connects powerfully with his jaw. He drops to his knees and two more punches rain down on him, followed by a sharp kick to the ribs. He is winded, and as he gasps for breath, two sets of hands lift him roughly by the arms and drag him behind the club.
Even Angels Fall Page 22
