To say I wasn’t up for a night out, I’m now sitting on the couch with a glass of white wine, waiting for Nathan. He’s late, three minutes to be precise, and if I have to wait another three, I’m not going. I bounce my restless legs while clock watching, and there it is. He knocks with thirty seconds to spare.
I open the door and see Nathan’s eyes flash over my outfit. “Wow, check you out.” He eyes me up and down. “You look... you look great.”
“Shut up, Nathan.”
I shuffle by him and close the door, irritated by his compliment. He alters the collar of his navy blue jacket over his cream polo shirt.
“Maybe I should change.” He looks down, unimpressed with his attire.
“Come on.” I pull on his arm. “This was your idea. So don’t stall, or I’ll be going back inside.”
“Okay my lady, your carriage awaits.” He holds out his arm.
I frown. “Where we going?”
“Ah-ah.” He taps his nose. “Away from here, where you’ll be ploughed with drink and great company.” He grabs and tugs me eagerly, as I conclude Finley’s it is then.
WE’RE IN A BLACK CAB. I watch as we move by Aroma and Finley’s. Hmm, at least I won’t be subjected to Nathan’s tone-deaf vocals tonight.
Snow begins to float down from the sky and melts as it hits the windscreen. Great, the white stuff looks pretty, but being outdoors without my thermals on, is not the greatest start to the night.
“Here.” Nathan hovers his vodka flask in front of my face. “Warm-up before we start.” I take the steel flask and wipe the rim he’s just drank from. “For fuck sake Liz, you’ve had your mouth around...”
“Nathan!” I gasp. “Shut up!” I gulp down two huge mouthfuls of Smirnoff. I’m going to need it.
“Whoa, easy girl.” Nathan snatches his liquor back.
The cab pulls up to the curb and I look straight ahead. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”
I launch over Nathan’s knee and grab at his flask again. I swig down a mouthful and wheeze out, watching the spotlights dancing in the night sky, highlighting the sleet falling directly above Smiths Mill. There’s a queue of people waiting to get in, which stretches the length of the street. The six story building has been adorned with lasers and lights, and is now simply called: The Mill.
“What’s up?” he asks.
Okay Nathan, this is my problem. I know you and I used to sleep together, and you’re my best friend now. But the guy who owns that building, well, I would really like to do things with him, I never dreamt of doing with you. Of course I can tell him that, if he was like a thousand miles away and on the telephone.
“Hey, you up for this?” He scowls at me, fighting to get the flask out of my mouth.
“Hmm-hmm,” I drone as he snaps the flask away from my sweaty hand. “Sure I am.” I quickly get out of the taxi as he pays the driver.
Nathan links up to me as we hurry to the back of the queue with our heads down in the blustery snow. It’s bitter cold with zero temperature gusts that sear the skin. Nights like this are meant for staying at home with a nice cup of coco and the heating on full blast.
“This was a great idea,” I whine as Nathan giggles.
“It won’t bother you after a few beers, and your favourite tunes come on.”
I shiver as the line slowly grows smaller. I’d say ten percent of the people waiting to get inside, have been turned away. Kids with fake ID’s don’t cut it here. There are bollards and security staff, keeping us in stringent military order.
I hoist my head as the snow turns to hail, and see security cameras rotating in all directions. The music booms from inside, and some of those waiting in the queue begin to yell at the staff about the length of time it’s taking.
“Opening night, and a free bottle of wine for every customer, it’s bound to bring out the crazies.” Nathan nods his head in the direction of some yob, trying his luck with a gargantuan bouncer.
A member of security staff approaches us with his hand held over an earpiece. He stops on the other side of the thick red rope, and eyeballs Nathan up and down. Quickly, I unzip my bag so that I can show him my driving licence, which clearly and truthfully states my date of birth.
“Miss Lovell.” He lifts the rope. “And sir.” He gestures his head at Nathan. “Would you please follow me?”
Nathan scrunches his face suspiciously. “Why?”
“Sir. Miss Lovell. You’re free to go inside,” the bouncer says.
Nathan utters in my ear, “how the fuck does he know your name?”
I bat my eyelids. My brain is freaking out. I shrug my arms and try to remain cool as I silently curse myself for agreeing to this. I should have never got out of that taxi. Shit, I should have never left the flat.
“I don’t know,” I squeal, my face heating up with shame.
Nathan huffs, oblivious to my private meltdown, and bends beneath the rope. I glance up at the security camera. I’m undeniably anxious. There’s a reason we’ve being given priority. Mr Knight has seen me through that lens. He must have. Oh god.
“Liz, come on.” Nathan bobs up and down on the spot. “I’m freezing my manhood off here.”
I nervously follow as the people waiting furiously question why we are being prioritised.
We’re shown through a side door and up a deep red painted staircase. The vibration of the music is felt on each step. We climb a total of four floors, and with each one we pass, the beat reduces slightly.
Nathan pulls open the black double doors at the top and we enter a vast room full of city types, mingling. It’s dark, nightclub dark, with a cool blue lit bar and shelving full of popular and exotic liquors. In the centre of the room there’s a brushed chrome rail in the shape of a large square. I run my hand over the cold metal and see the jam-packed dance floor three floors below.
“What do you want to drink Liz?”
Nathan knows I don’t do wine in these places. Not only because it tastes like bitter vinegar, but I’ll be passing-out within two hours.
I look behind the bar. “Just get me a beer.”
He orders our drinks while I discreetly scour the area for Mr Knight. Maybe he’s not here, and us being allowed in before the others is just some gimmick for opening night.
Nathan turns to me empty handed. “Let’s go sit down. Apparently this is the executive area, and they bring it to us.”
Several suits bound through the doors, and I have to weave my steps to avoid a collision. Clearly uptown guys who have just finished work at the stock exchange or something.
We find a cosy booth with a black marble table. It’s tastefully decorated with cream and gold damask seating, and contemporary glass panels in the walls.
“Lighten up will you.” Nathan nudges me as we sit down.
He has no idea. I’m so nervous. I’m expecting Mr Knight to put in an appearance, and I have to prepare myself for it.
My eyes expand on the leggy blonde approaching our booth. Our waitress for the evening, is none other than slutty Sara from Churchill’s. She’s standing right there in her skirt and heels, holding our tray of drinks.
“Well fancy seeing you here,” Nathan says, like his night has been made.
“Your drinks.” She bends over the table. Her attitude is- here, have a good long look at my round rump, Nathan.
I’m in one of those awful awkward moments in which you become obscure. I am an irrelevant blip stuck in-between two lusting players. I’m not going to let him do this to me again. If he expects me to play gooseberry all night, he’s got another thing coming.
“Thanks Sara,” I snap. “We’ll let you know if we need anything else.”
Nathan shuffles back in his seat, drawing his eyes back into his head. He knows I’m pissed-off.
“Yes, thanks Sara.” He smiles, warily.
She takes a bottle of wine from the tray, reverting back to her role of waitress from lap dancer.
“Compliments of Mr Knight.” She places two win
e glasses next to the bottle and trots away.
I glance to the bar and there he is, Mr Knight, appealing to me in stealthy ways. He’s wearing black pressed trousers that dress his hips and thighs magnificently. His blue shirt is open at the top, and the sleeves are rolled halfway up his shapely forearms. His hair. Oh his hair. I’ve never in my whole life had an urge like it. I want to run my fingers through it, down his neck, and over his face.
This is turning into a disastrous night. I breathe in and out, turning my attention to the bottle of wine. I need something to cool me down.
“Liz... let me.” Nathan sees me getting frustrated because I can’t open the stupid bottle. He pops out the cork with ease and pours me a glass. It’s red. I don’t like red.
“Here, I’ll go ask them to change it.” Nathan stands up with the bottle.
I notice Mr Knight out of the corner of my eye, watching what I do with interest.
“No!” I take the bottle from him. “It’s free. Don’t want to be picky. Besides, I’ll give it a go. Alcohol is alcohol.”
I take a swig and sigh out. I’m instantly taken back to that first oppressive conversation with Mr Knight. This wine is from his personal stash. Vintage and very expensive. While taking another sip, I stare over my glass at his pert backside as he leans over the bar.
“Like it then?” Nathan asks.
“It’s perfect,” I say, secretly referring to my view.
“Hey, you okay? You seem a bit... I don’t know, in a different place,” he asks, touching my knee.
He really shouldn’t have his hand on there, he’s distracting me. But perhaps I need distraction. Or a gallon more of this wine.
I consume what’s left in my glass and slam it down on the table.
“I’m fine,” I squeak, pouring myself another.
I’VE DEVOURED THE WHOLE bottle to myself and it’s helping me a great deal. Nathan has now hit the vodka. He has been getting a tad rowdy, and has been trying to get me up dancing for the last hour. But this is the classy area, and no one dances here.
My head’s a little woozy; the good kind of woozy. Nathan is up there right now in front of me, dancing to the retro song, Shake it Off. The song’s dreadful, but his moves are fantastic and very entertaining.
“Liz.” Nathan’s eyes follow slutty Sara as she marches by. I scowl hard at him. “Okay!” He laughs, waving for me to join him. “I’m all yours,” he yells over the music. “Dance with me.”
Mr Knight walks by and my eyes automatically tail him. “In a bit. I’m just going to the bathroom.” I bravely make my move.
You can do this Liz. Go thank him for the wine. Just don’t be all soppy eyed about it. Sophistication is key.
I squeeze through a crowd of people blocking my way. The ladies bathroom is to my left, but Mr Knight is moving to the right. I’m at a defining crossroads and pause.
Shit Liz, just move. I’m sure you can string a thank you together.
I call after him, but he doesn’t hear over the music. In my head, I’m very ready and able. I can flirt and mentally seduce. God, I have plenty of subconscious ideas on how to talk to this man, but all of them require a good amount of alcohol to pull off.
I follow him to a booth where he chats to two half-naked women. I don’t like it. How dare they touch his hand in that whorish way. There’s still time, just turn back and walk away, Liz. But no, for some stupid unfathomable reason, maybe the wine, I’m now standing next to him. He gazes at me, his eyes thin, like I’ve just committed the crime of interruption.
He draws a breath, pursing his slick red lips. “Miss Lovell, what can I do for you?”
I don’t get it. Why’s he being all cold and business with me? He gave me his personal phone number. He invited Nathan and me up here to the executive lounge. And he gave me a bottle of wine from his personal collection, which probably cost the same as a small house. I scrunch my fingers into my palm tightly, feeling foolish. It’s me. I’ve clearly got this so very wrong.
“I wanted to thank you... for the wine.” This is terrible. He doesn’t look interested at all.
“It’s fine Miss Lovell.” He rudely turns back to the women. “Ladies, have a wonderful evening.”
So, I must have done something to insult him at the coffee shop, or just now. Maybe it’s because I didn’t call him. Perhaps he knows I’ve been cyber-stalking him. Or he just likes to mess with my head. If anything, he’s the one who has been giving out the mixed signals.
I stiffen on the spot. He looks directly at me with a confused movement blinking within his pupils.
“Miss Lovell, if you’ll excuse me.” He walks away, leaving me humiliated.
What a complete asshole he is. I’m so furious. I hate myself for feeling this way about a man who clearly has sociopathic tendencies. I seem to amuse him. Well not anymore, because I’m getting the hell out of here.
I push my way through to the bar and order a large glass of wine. Nathan tugs my arm as I pour the whole glass down my neck. This hellish day needs to be shaken off. I grab and drag Nathan, and we stagger to the doors. The lower dance floor is more suited to my needs right now.
I’M DANCING WITH NATHAN and we’ve taken over the floor like old times. He shall have all my attention for the rest of the night. So screw you Mr Knight. I wave my hands high to the loud dance beat.
“Do you know Nath... I’m havin the bestest time.”
“Liz, you’re smashed.”
“Kiss meee... sorry... oops.” I stumble and burp into my hand. “I got to go to... to the bathroom.”
I need this wall. This nice wall is like my yellow brick road and will take me to my destination, the bathroom, I think.
Nearly there Liz. You can stick your head under the cold faucet and wake yourself up.
I’m forced to stop suddenly. There’s a firm hand wrapped around my bicep. I’m not going to have anybody grabbing me tonight. I twist in a blurry rage, and oops, land right into someone’s chest. It’s blue and it smells so damn hot. I inhale and stay for a while. Oh shit! It’s blue. I jolt back a step and there he is, all two of him, weaving in and out of each other.
“Mr-Mr-Mr Knight.”
“You need to sit down before you fall down, Elizabeth. You’re making a fool of yourself.”
Did he just call you a fool Liz? I scowl at him. It is my, don’t push it, expression. A warning that I may Hulk out any second. For the first time in his presence I’m feeling extremely brave, and I don’t care who the hell he thinks he is.
I prod his firm fine chest, hard. “I is no fool. You see that man I’m with. Well he’s a real man. None of this hot then cold crap you like to pull. And if I wanted him to, he’d kiss me. Real he is!”
“That man right there.” He points toward the dance floor, cool, calm, and fucking annoyingly amused by me yet again.
I follow his hazy finger before I strike the smug look off his beautiful face. I squint and sway back and forth in fury. I told him in my sober state. We agreed tonight was for us only. I’ve been blown off for slutty Sara again. She’s there, shimmying her ass around him.
I slam my back against the wall and slide down to the floor. I’m a hopelessly messed up drunk, and I’m playing it all out for Mr Knight to see.
I peer up, expecting to see Mr Hot Stuff chuckling at me. He’s standing there, holding his blurry hand out to me. His eyes, all four of them, are offended I’d do such a thing as to insult him. But he’s still being polite about it.
My vision spirals downhill fast, as if I’m on a speeding merry-go-round. Focus Liz. You know the trick. Simply use one eye, and you should be able to see.
“You can leave me now. I really... really would like you to leave me alone.” I bang my head on my knees.
“Get up Elizabeth!”
He’s ever so bossy. I laugh, a tittering laugh at his expense. I like laughing at him. I guess it’s better than hitting him.
“What’s so funny to you? Because from where I’m standing, I’m not the o
ne who looks ridiculous here,” he grumbles as I chuckle uncontrollably. “Elizabeth!”
“Okidoki, keep your pert pants on Mr Rich. You have very nice eyes.” This ought to work Liz. He won’t be able to resist a bite of the lip. “You can kiss me if you like.” I hiccup and very nearly vomit, before resting my head on my knees again.
I hear fabric brushing down the wall. I turn to my side to see the most influential man in the city right now beside me, with his shiny Armani shoes crossed. Mr Rich is sitting outside the ladies bathroom on the floor of a nightclub, showing nothing but concern for little drunken me. He’s so close to me, hip to hip.
Liz please sober up, you need to remember everything about this.
“Sorry,” I cringe. “I’m a complete mess.”
He slopes his head to see me. I’m not blushing, or nervous. I really do love his eyes. I’m losing myself in them, realising he has power over me.
“You feel the need to self-destruct. I think everyone has the right to the odd lapse in sanity.” His observation on me intensifies. “Next time, you should steer clear of the alcohol.”
I want to kiss him, I really do. To lean across and get what I need. But in this state, he’ll probably just think me pathetic. I am very stupid tonight, and irresponsibly randy. Drunken sex is never a good idea.
“Well, I don’t cope well with stress,” I utter.
“You’re stressed, what about?” He still has no idea what he’s doing.
Yes, I’m stressed drunk because of you Mr Knight. The fact that you’ve scrambled my brain. Not to mention I’m now jobless, penniless, and desperately trying not to puke on you.
“If I have in any way hurt your feelings, I apologise Elizabeth.” Holy hell. Did he just read my mind? “When I have a desire for something, I usually get it. And desire can be a bad thing in my line of work. I need a hell of a lot of restraint around you, or I could ruin everything.”
Please do not spoil this by spewing, my thoughts scream out. Hold it in. He’s giving me something here. Did he actually just admit he desires me?
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