‘Go and get changed. Or come as you are. You look great either way.’
I sigh. I have no idea why but Mason is wearing me down. His club is nice, sophisticated and I think that one drink – or maybe two – wouldn’t hurt. I know what he’s like now. There’s no way that I’m going to get suckered in again. Besides, what am I going to do? Sit indoors by myself thinking about Joe and a date that might never happen? What if he was just trying to be polite? What if he has a change of heart and decides to warn me off again? Oh, man. This is doing my head in. I’m young – sort of – single, and I can either have an early night or live dangerously. I shouldn’t sit here waiting for a man that’s too busy to see me. Right? I’m looking to you to enable this.
‘An hour,’ I say. ‘That’s all. I want to be in bed by midnight.’
‘I can arrange that too,’ he deadpans.
‘By myself,’ I stress. Not with you. Not with Valerie or similar. ‘Will I do like this?’
‘You look fabulous.’
‘Now I know that you’re lying.’
‘Get in the car,’ he says. ‘There’s a Porn Star Martini with your name on it.’
I shake my head at him. ‘Charmer.’ Yet I get in his car, nevertheless.
The Vibe Lounge is busy for a weekday, but we’re shown to a reserved sofa in the corner. For the record, I have three sparkly cocktails – two more than I had pledged would pass my lips. What can I say? I have a weakness for the coloured drink. And for Mason Soames too, it seems.
We have a great laugh. He’s fun and naughty and it’s hard not to get caught up in his enthusiasm. He chides me again for not returning his calls. He makes me feel on top of the world and, when he takes me in his arms on the dance floor, we move well together in time to the smoochy music. Damn him. When he’s like this, I like him. A lot.
When I look at my watch it’s one in the morning. I groan. ‘It’s waaaaay past my bedtime. I’m never going to get up in the morning.’
‘Come on, Cinders, I’ll take you home.’
‘I can get a cab.’
‘Won’t hear of it.’ So I take the last sip of my drink, grab my bag and we head to his car.
My eyes close as we drive through the deserted streets of Costa del Keynes and Mason turns up the stereo. Adele fills the car with hit tunes and I think I might sing along in a slightly drunken way.
When Mason pulls up outside the granny annexe again, I feel that I’d be happy to sleep in these comfy leather seats all night.
He turns to me and strokes my hair. ‘Here you are, Brown. Safely delivered before you turn into a pumpkin.’
‘It was the pumpkin that turned into Cinderella’s carriage,’ I inform him.
‘Whatever.’
‘Clearly, you’re no Prince Charming,’ I laugh.
He’s suddenly serious. ‘I could be. If that’s what it takes.’ Then he leans over and kisses me.
I think it’s the sparkly drinks, but my resistance is very low. When his hands move over my body, it takes all my effort to say, ‘I should go.’
‘Let me stay the night,’ he murmurs against my neck.
‘No, no, no.’ I shake my head and my brain hurts. ‘Seriously bad idea.’ I grasp for the door handle to make my escape before reason deserts me.
‘We’re good together. You know it.’
‘We’re not. You’re my boss. I’m your minion. You’re upstairs. I’m downstairs.’
He shakes his head at me. ‘I have no idea what that even means.’
Obvs Mason doesn’t stay in at night watching crap telly.
‘Let me stay.’ His lips move over my neck. ‘I know all the funny little noises you make now and I want to hear them again.’
I push him away and wag my finger at him. ‘You don’t know all my funny noises.’
‘I don’t?’ He looks shocked. ‘There are more?’
‘That’s something you’ll never know,’ I tell him.
Mason sighs ruefully. ‘You’re making a big mistake, Brown.’
‘I’m so not. See you at work, Mr Soames.’ I lurch out of his car, totter up the path and then clamber up the stairs to my granny annexe eyrie. Blimey. I don’t remember the stairs being this steep. Do you think the landlord has had them changed while I was out?
As I fumble with my key in the lock, I hear Mason’s car roar off into the night. I go through to the bedroom and fall onto the bed face first.
‘I had a very narrow escape,’ I mumble to cardboard cut-out Gary Barlow, turning my head to look at my guru. ‘He’s such a good kisser. But if I’d let Mason stay the night Charlie would have killed me, resurrected me and then killed me again.’
And, with that thought in my head, I greet oblivion.
Chapter Forty
I haven’t heard from either Joe or Mason. Seriously, it’s either feast or famine here. Two men in one night – not in the biblical sense of the word, obvs. Given my slight aberration in Paris, I feel the need to reiterate that. Then not a word. Since our late-nite impromptu clubbing get together Mason has stopped the ten phone calls a day and he’s only been into the pub when I’ve not been on shift. I wonder if that’s deliberate or whether he’s tied up with the Vibe Lounge. Joe didn’t turn up to scuba-diving again this week, so I had Bob. Again, not biblically. Bob said he thought Joe had to go to parents’ night at school for one of the kids or something. He might have rung me himself and explained that though. No? And the promised coffee date? Not a sausage.
Still, I don’t care. Men are more trouble than they’re worth. I don’t understand them at all and yet women are supposed to be the tricky ones. Pah.
I haven’t seen Charlie all week as our shifts haven’t coincided – which is a rare thing as we normally persuade our manager, Jay, to put us on the rota together. Though he doesn’t take much persuasion as he calls us the Dream Team and not in a sarcastic way.
However, we’re both off work today and are going on an outing together. There’s a Gary Barlow festival on at a local hotel – GaryFest. Even the rubbish name can’t put us off. Charlie has got us Platinum tickets which include a glass of prosecco, tickets to all the talks about all things Barlow and a performance by a well-known tribute act. Though I have to say I’ve never heard of him.
We’re getting ready at Charlie’s place. I have my Let it Shine! T-shirt on again. Charlie’s instructions. She takes a photo of us pouting at her phone. I comb my hair, put my lippy on and think that I should, at least, listen to the new album before we go to GaryFest.
‘I’ve just tweeted the photo to Gary to let him know where we’re going and he tweeted me back!’
‘What did he say?’
‘Cool.’ She shows me the tweet.
‘Is it really him? He has over four million followers. Surely he has a team of minions to do it for him?’
‘Gary wouldn’t do that. He follows me, you know. That’s as big a deal as it gets.’
‘Why? What do you tweet about?’
‘You shagging our boss.’
I asked for that. ‘I’d like to point out that I haven’t had so much as a phone call from Mason since our night at the club.’
Charlie screws up her eyes and stares at me. ‘What night at the club?’