The hum of voices from the other patrons quieted to a hush, although the group of giggly Sidhe girls found it impossible to stifle their excited laughter. I was almost surprised that there wasn’t a trumpet to herald his arrival. Honestly, for someone who was in his position for no other reason than the circumstances of his birth, the reaction he received was ridiculous.
I twisted my head slightly so that I could see the table reflected in the mirror hanging across the bar. I counted seven people in total: the three who’d entered first, two women, a cheeky-looking dimpled friend and Byron himself. They were all Sidhe and, by the insignia they were sporting, all from Clan Moncrieffe. That was good. A tight-knit group who kept to themselves would be less likely to know about me – even if I had once had the displeasure of meeting Byron himself.
Surreptitiously – and still using the reflection in the mirror – I eyed him. He had an easy smile which contradicted my memory of him. His bronze hair and golden skin remained the same but he’d definitely grown into his body. Trying to remain dispassionate, I took in the roped muscles on his arms. His clothing, while casual, was as well-designed to display his buff physique as my dress was designed to show off other, uh, attributes. Nah. He wasn’t that good-looking. Maybe he was alright if you liked your men golden and muscled and charismatic. Shite. Okay, he was as sexy as hell.
I noted a small scar underneath his eye that I didn’t remember. It must be fairly recent. Unfortunately, it worked for him, taking away his disturbing perfection and giving him more of a rakish air. Probably the same air that the stubble around his jawline was meant to provide. I leaned slightly to one side to get a better glimpse of it. And that was when I realised he was watching me right back.
I choked slightly as Byron raised up his glass in greeting. Don’t blush, Integrity. I raised my fake champagne to him and offered a distant smile. Then I caught the bartender’s attention and engaged him in a conversation about the weather. I didn’t look into the mirror again.
It didn’t take the three Sidhe girls long to make their first advance. The prettiest one waltzed up and, although I didn’t see what she did, her voice was loud enough to make it clear that her approach was welcome. In less time than it took the bartender to pour me another drink, her two friends joined in, pulling over chairs and simpering. I remained aloof. If he liked the chase, then that’s what he’d get.
I let a tiny Mona Lisa smile play around my lips. I was mysterious and interesting. And bloody uncomfortable sitting in this dress. There was a spot on my back where my bra strap was rubbing against the zip. It was very itchy and very annoying but interesting, mysterious women don’t do contortions in public to give themselves a damn good scratch. I twitched my shoulders but it wasn’t going away. That was okay though. I could saunter my way to the bathroom – drawing attention to myself along the way – and take care of it there.
Nodding my intention to the bartender, I slung my bag over my shoulder, then carefully descended from the stool. The door to the restroom was in the far corner. Perfect: I’d have no choice but to walk past Byron’s table. I flipped my hair over my shoulder again and strutted off.
The Cockney guy who’d approached me before glowered in my direction. This time I gave him a sweet smile, filled with sultry promise. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed. Then I tilted up my chin and walked past Byron, the Sidhe girls and his entourage, telling myself that this would be a really bad time to trip and fall flat on my arse.
When I eventually made it to the safety of the bathroom, I immediately found the itchy spot and moaned in satisfaction as I scratched it.
There was a muted flash of light and Bob’s booming voice floating up from my bag. ‘Don’t tell me you’re doing what I think you’re doing,’ he said.
I cursed and unzipped the bag. ‘How did you get out?’ I complained. ‘I thought you had to wait until I rubbed the blade.’
Bob thrust his hips forward. ‘Uh Integrity, you can rub my blade any time.’
Oh for Pete’s sake. I started to zip the bag closed again but he made a good show of protesting. ‘Oh come on! That’s not fair! Until you take all three wishes, I can appear whenever I want to, okay?’
That certainly didn’t sound right. ‘I thought I was your owner.’
‘You are! But if you’re going to keep ignoring what a wonderful opportunity you have with these wishes, then I’m going to keep appearing to remind you of what you’ve got.’
‘Until I give you back to the guy who owned you originally,’ I said shortly.
A crafty expression crossed Bob’s face. He held up his miniscule index finger and gave me a shit-eating grin. ‘He never cleaned the dagger. I never appeared to him.’
‘So?’ I asked sourly.
‘You don’t know much about genies, do you, Uh Integrity? I’m yours until you take the wishes. You can give me away, hide me in a drawer, drop me in the ocean if you like. I’ll still come back to you.’ He gave me jazz hands. Actual jazz hands. ‘It’s magic!’