That Blue Gibson: Another Round

thirty-five

Pressing her black clutch to her ear to block out the shouts from the photographers and the restaurant's staff, she wished Dave were there. She wished it was him guiding her through the mass of people, wished it was him she was being propped up alongside to smile at the flashes with and wished he was the one sitting beside her at the private VIP table, perusing the pretentious French menu. But she looked up into Paul's kind smile and mentally kicked herself when he refilled her wine glass with a sweet, "Happy birthday, love" and flipped her phone to vibrate.

*

With every hand he shook and every greeting he suffered through, Dave felt worse and worse. It was creeping up on eight in the evening and they still weren't finished.

"Almost done, dude," Taylor promised.

"Yeah," he muttered and hung his head, unable to get over the sickening feeling that he'd ditched her on her birthday.

"Hey, look!" Pat called, running over with his phone held high, "She's on the news!"

Dave practically dove at him, tearing his phone from his hand to examine the photo on the screen. "Ah, fuck," he groaned.

"What?" Taylor asked, peeking over his shoulder. "She's having a great time!"

The article's lead photo was of her and Paul posing in front of the restaurant. She looked gorgeous in her leather jacket, long black satin slip dress with the slit far up the leg and her killer stilettos, but there was something off in her eyes. Scrolling further into the story, he found a grainy photo of her at the table with Paul, casually sipping her wine in the candlelight. She looked relaxed, reclined back in her chair with a smile on her face, but he spotted her left hand dangling limply at her side and her ring turned inward.

"I gotta go," he said suddenly, shoving the phone back at Pat.

"Dude, no," Taylor jumped in, slinging his arm around Dave's shoulders. "We have to finish up here. You'll see her soon."

*

Paul held her hand and pulled her through the crowd out front, laughing like an excited toddler the whole way.

"Where's the hip place for drinks nowadays, lads?" he asked casually to the crowd of photographers as he opened the car door for Liz.

"The Chiltern Firehouse, sir!" one man yelled. "The Jenner sisters were spotted there just an hour ago!"

"Right, then," Paul announced, "We'll see you gentlemen at the Chiltern, then!"

Liz quickly checked her phone while Paul sauntered around to the driver's side, frowning when her notifications were blank. Pushing away all the disappointment and self-pity she was feeling, she smiled when Paul started the car. "So, what's this Chiltern place?"

"Oh no, love," Paul laughed. "We have plans elsewhere. This just keeps them off our tail. I do have to make a quick stop at the studio for some paperwork, though. Are you feeling up for that?"

"Of course. I'll never turn down a trip to the Abbey," she smiled and sat back in her seat, letting the excitement of seeing Abbey Road again replace all her sadness.

The studio's gate had barely closed behind them before Paul was out and on the move, pulling her to the back loading doors with such purpose that Liz was beginning to wonder what the hell was so important about this paperwork.

"You see," he told her once they were at the service entrance, "People think I own this place when I really don't. Sure, I have stock and whatnot, but it's not like I can open the doors and wander in whenever I feel like it," he said it as he was literally unlocking the doors and letting them in, making her giggle, "I still do, but that's not the point."