Secondment (A Ricky Wilson Fan Fiction)

Ménage à Trois.

I published the last chapter just before I heard about the atrocities in Manchester. I just want to say I am utterly disgusted. I regularly take my children to arenas and other concert venues. We will continue to go. We will watch. We will dance. We will sing. We will carry on. They will not stop us. And we begin again this Saturday.

Whitey did not move his hand. He maintained his view around Amy's head, his own head moving in time to the music. Ricky presumed he was ignoring him.

Amy knew full well that Ricky was stood next to them. She glanced across at him, suddenly and inexplicably feeling a little nervous at the situation she now found herself in. Amy looked away, before her eyes were drawn back to Ricky, who had now turned to look at her.

He smiled, but his eyes seemed to be telling a different story.

"Oh my God, oh my God! Can you see what he's doing?" Lizzy began flapping to Joe as she'd noticed the scene playing out in front of her. "He's got his arm round her. Whitey. Look at him. He's so close! Amy will be panicking like mad!" Lizzy spoke into Joe's ear to make sure she was heard above the music. Joe peered over towards Amy.

"Ricky is giving her a strange look," Joe told her, seeing him stood by Amy's side. Lizzy strained her neck to see. She gave Joe a knowing look, raising her eyebrows.

"What's all that about? Lizzy was shocked at what she'd just seen. "You don't think he's jealous do you?" Joe mirrored his wife's raised eyebrows. "Your mate Amy must have something special going on!" He suddenly felt a playful whack on his arm! "I don't fancy her!" he protested, grinning at Lizzy.

"I should bloody hope not!" her attention was back on Amy.

Amy felt Whitey move from one foot to the other as the first song ended. His hand left the front of her body and after putting his pint down, it met his another above her head to clap the band on stage. "They're not bad," Amy heard him say just before the drums of the next song kicked in. She nodded her agreement, not actually knowing how she would rate them; it wasn't as if she had been paying any  attention whatsoever.

Ricky was still next to them and Peanut had joined him. Amy saw Ricky lean over and say something to Peanut, who then immediately stared Amy's way. She averted her eyes quickly, staring back at the stage. By the time Whitey's hand was around her waist once again and she had  plucked up the courage to look to the side, both men were engrossed in the band, Peanut pointing to their instruments and talking to Ricky. Amy told herself not to be paranoid. Why on earth would they want to talk about her?

The band announced they were taking a short break after five or six songs. The room had become far more crowded as people had come up from downstairs to see what entertainment five pounds would get them. Ricky and Peanut's cover seemed to have been blown as people began having selfies taken with them. Whitey was pleased to have got away with not being recognised and nodding towards the bar, Amy followed him to get another drink.

"I'll get this one," she insisted, "Same as before?" Amy ordered a pint and another double for herself. She could feel the effect of what she'd had already and was quite happy to keep on that path.

"So when should I expect to see you down in London?" Amy asked, aware she had no idea of his immediate future plans.

"I have absolutely no idea I'm afraid. It's all a bit quiet London way. We've got festivals here, there and everywhere." He supped his pint. "Why? Are you wanting to see me?"

Amy's stomach did a flip. It was the first out and out question hinting at her feelings that he'd asked. She blushed. "Yes, I suppose I am," Amy said swinging, reminiscent of a toddler using their cuteness to get what they want. Whitey smiled, seemingly pleased by her reply.