And for a second, I wish I was sitting next to Will and not Stuart, so I could hurt Jake like he’s hurting me. But then it would be a little strange if I leaned over Stuart to get to Will.
More like obvious, and childish, I’d say.
I force composure on myself.
“Where’s Denny?” Jake asks Stuart.
He’s ignoring me. It hurts.
“The bar.” Stuart points in Denny’s direction.
Seeing Denny with Simone, Jake grins and nods his head in approval.
“Hi, I’m Will,” Will says to Jake, getting to his feet. “Tru’s boyfriend. We haven’t had a chance to meet yet.” Will holds his hand out to Jake.
Jake glances down at his hand like he’s not sure what to do with it.
And for that long second everything seems to hang in the air, precariously balancing.
Then Jake takes his hand and shakes it. “Good to finally meet you. Tru’s told me a lot about you.”
Jake casts a glance in my direction. It tears right through me.
“All good I hope?”
“Of course,” Jake lightly shrugs his shoulders, taking his hand back.
I let the breath out I was holding.
“The show was amazing,” Will continues, sitting back down. “And I thought your version of Mr Brightside was bloody brilliant – better than the original.”
I nearly crack into pieces on the spot.
Jake’s eyes flicker in my direction again, and he smirks. “Thanks.”
“Jake, are we getting a drink?” Redhead pulls on his arm. Her voice is sweet, laced with a heavy French accent, and she pronounces Jake – Zzhake, rolling his name around her tongue.
It sounds as sexy as she looks. I hate her.
Why do the French always sound sexy? So much sexier than my Spanish accent, the one that turns Jake on.
Fine, he wants to play games, well I’m up for that.
“Yeah, in a minute,” Jake answers her sounding irritated.
“Aren’t you going to introduce us to your new friend, Jake?” Stuart asks.
Jake narrows a gaze at Stuart, who seems unfazed by the darts he’s shooting him down with.
I don’t think I want to know her name. It somehow makes her even more real if she has a name.
Jake glances back at redhead. “Um … yeah, this is … um.”
She rolls her eyes at him. “I’m Juliette.” She presses her small hand to her large chest.
Zzhuliette.
So not only is she beautiful, she has a beautiful name. Which, Jake either couldn’t remember or hadn’t even bothered to find out.
I don’t even know if that should make me feel better or not.
“Zzhuliette,” I hear myself saying in a really bad French accent.
Jake’s eyes flicker to mine. Zzhuilette stares at me too.
Oh God.
“It’s a really pretty name,” I somehow recover. And I don’t know if it’s the booze or a mild hysteria setting in, but I say, in bad French again, “Zzhake and Zzhuilette. Has quiet a ring to it. Don’t you agree?” I stare at Jake.
He shifts on his feet, looking at me like I’ve just grown another head.
I know Will’s staring at me too, but in this moment I don’t care.
Jake laughs, getting his cool composure back. “What have you been drinking, Tru?”
“Oh, just a few margarita’s.” I stare at him steady, shrugging, forcing the best smile I can muster up. “I’m just feeling happy. Looking on the brightside, you know. Will and Simone are here, it’s all good, I’m happy, happy, happy!”
His eyes harden, burning into mine. “So what did you think of the show, Tru?”
Is he asking my professional opinion or asking me in my current state of anger with him? Honestly, I don’t even know why he is asking. And hearing him say my name, it’s like I’m hearing it for the first time.
How can this be the same man who made love to me all through the night. Told me how much he missed me for the years we’d been apart. The man who pleaded with me to never leave him.
“Trooo?” Zzhuilette looks at me puzzled, with bitch in her eyes. “You’re name is Trooo?”
I’ve never wanted to slap someone as much as I do her now.
Take my guy – fine. Don’t dis my name. Even though I just did yours a few moments ago – kind of.
“Trudy,” I explain. “My friends call me Tru for short.” I emphasise the ‘u’.
“Ahh, I zee.” She runs her fingernails through her hair seemingly bored now.
Obviously she has the attention span of a gnat.
Ugh, I’m turning into one of those bitchy women. Good.
I pick my margarita up and take a mouthful for courage.
“And to answer your question, Jake,” I start to speak in my Spanish accent, because I know how much it affects him, and I want to be a bitch.
Jake’s eyes widen and fire, and I know I’m playing a dangerous game. I dare not even look at Will.
“In my professional opinion the show was brilliant, one of your best to date.” I smile sweetly up at him, desperately trying to hold the pieces of me together.
His flaming eyes soften, slightly. I see him shift uncomfortably in his pants.
He’s squirming.
Good.
Or maybe I’ve just turned him on and am about to send him off with his redheaded groupie.
Smart, Tru, real smart.
“Glad you think so. Plenty for the bio?” he asks.