I slipped between mobs of loudmouthed, hard-drinking socialisers and carousers, veering to the long-stretched wood-topped bar. I saw virtually nothing through omnipresent cigarette and marijuana smoke. Wafting fumes out of my face, I squeezed between two unapproachable giants, both of whom wore disgruntled expressions and had tattoos on every inch of skin, including their chins, cheeks, foreheads and ears, and waved down the green-haired barman.
Ogre to my right held bottled beer with skull-ringed fingers. He pulled a long sip, his engine-red leather jacket sticking to my arm, and side-eyed me, or perhaps he's silently conversing with the bald beast to my left, who is currently examining the diamond rings on my fourth finger.
"What can I get you?" the barman shouted over the loud rock music. His head resembled nitid asparagus sticks. Metal fringed his full lips. Customised silver grills veneered his teeth. "I ain't got all night, lady."
"I, vodka?" Jesus, Alexa. Quit ogling. You are acting like a judgmental dimwit. "Yes. Vodka. Russian. Can I buy the bottle? Two glasses."
"Whatever." Whipping a black tea towel over his shoulder, he snagged bottled vodka from under the counter alongside two tumbler glasses and manually tapped the cash register. "Thirty-eight."
I slid two twenty-pound notes across the tacky bar top. "Thank you."
"You gonna finish the whole bottle?" Ogre plucked up the glass as if to request an invite. "I am good company—"
Alfie obtained the glass. "I'm her company," he said with a dark, threatening edge, and my teeth detained my upper lip to cease grinning. His eyes never leaving the cold-faced metalhead, he gathered my belongings and hand gestured for me to lead the way. "Always compromised, Ma'am."
Inharmonious music vibrated under my feet. "I am a glutton for trouble."
"I concur." Alfie peered over the sea of headbangers. "Where to escort you, Ma'am? I will blend into the background." He held out the glasses. "You won't even know that I'm here."
"Nonsense." Uncapping the bottle, I poured strong liquor into the glasses, took one for myself, and left him with the other. "You can join the fun, Alfie. My friends are awesome. You will love them." His lips pressed together in a tight line. "What's the look?"
"One, I am not allowed to lower my guard whilst protecting the boss' wife. Two, it would be careless to drink on the job. Three, Mr Warren expresses a poor opinion of Mr Williams. Four, I am loyal to Mr Warren and the syndicate, so fraternising with the friend in question is disloyally unjust."
I blinked owlishly. "Well, that's a lot of irrational pointers."
Alfie's cheeks dusted pink.
God, I love this man. He's cute for a big old brute.
"I demand that you sit with me," I said sternly, and his mouth parted. "And have fun. And drink. And socialise. Hey, I even permit you to dance." Before he could decline, I clanked our glasses. "Technically, I am your boss. Not Liam. Enjoy yourself."
He shifted from one foot to the other. "Mr Warren pays me to take care of you, Ma'am."
"Collaborative finances," I pointed out. "What's mine is his, and what's his is mine. We share money. Now, let's find my friends so that you can scare them with your neck tattoo."
"I hardly doubt I can scare anyone in a place like this." Spurning the dive bar's squalid interior, he traipsed in my footsteps, inattentively touching the cursive ink on his neck.
"What does it mean?" I indicated to his skull-piece.
His hand lowered. "Why do you assume it means anything?"
"Do people permanently ink unmeaningful art on their skin?"
"I did." He offered a humoured smile, and when he noted my undying curiousness, he sighed. "I have horrendous acne scars from pubescence. I had to cover it." He briefly locked eyes with a passing male. "I selected the first design presented by the tattooist."
"Fair enough." I see a silver button-down shirt. "I found them." Grayson prances by a round table in ostentatious glamour, fake leather pants, sparkly jewellery and newly dyed grey hair to match the shirt. "I am so excited. It's pathetic."
Alfie sipped vodka whilst skulking behind me. Jared, Shane, Harlyn and a few other unrecognisable faces packed the leather booth. Jace's nowhere to be seen, though. "Ah!" Grayson squealed, jumping up and down on the spot. "Do my eyes deceive me? I was almost sure you'd bail on us at the last minute."
"Not tonight." I smiled as his arms hauled me in for a long, tight hug. "You look great."
"You too, doll," Gray whispered in my ear, his hand getting a squeeze of my backside. "Okay, let's get the introductions over. You know these muppets." He motioned to Jace's roommates. "That's Becky and Janette. They replaced you losers down at the Coffee House."
I shook both of their hands. "It's lovely to meet you."
"That's Burger." Gray pinched the man's chubby cheek. "And this handsome fella," he chimed proudly, leaning down to plant an affectionate kiss to his shadowed jaw, "is Arthur. My boyfriend. Go ahead and tell me how awesome I am for pegging a doctor."
"Oh, my God." I moved in to shake the man's hand, but he stood to give me a friendly hug instead. "Arthur, how do you cope?"
He flashed me a neat set of pearly white teeth. "He wouldn't take no for an answer."
"Excuse me?" Gray draped his arms over our shoulders. "I don't recall that version of the story, Arthur. Do enlighten us."
Arthur looked at Grayson like a man in love, and I melted. His loving eyes softened behind black-framed bi-focal glasses. "He's right." Correcting his skewed bowtie, he nursed a half-filled tumbler. "I buy coffee every morning before work, and, well, I was smitten with the manager."
Grayson grinned like a Cheshire cat. "That would be me."
I laughed. "Just stating the obvious."
"Hell, yeah." Grayson's hand latched on to his lover's shoulder. "Who's your friend?"
Shit. I completely forgot about Alfie. "He is my...Alfie."
"Your...Alfie?" Grayson snorted and then, under his breath, told Arthur, "She's unhinged."
My chin hit the deck. "I heard that."
"You were supposed to." Gray outstretched his arm to give Alfie a gentle handclasp. "Nice to meet you, Alexa's Alfie. I hope you like cocktails because you can't stay here if you don't."
"Grayson," I scolded, and he winked. "Ignore him. He's not from our planet."
"It's fine." Alfie pulled out a rickety wooden chair opposite Shane and delved straight into friendly conversations.
I nearly claimed the chair next to Alfie when strong, tattooed arms locked around my neck and a solid chest pressed to my back. "Alexa," Jace breathed in my ear, and I slacked against him. "You look incredible."
"Jace." I spun around fast, and the vodka splurged onto my fingers. "Hey," I whispered, and forest green eyes homed in on my face. "I missed you."
Keeping me in his hold, Jace lowered his forehead to mine and kissed the tip of my nose. "Likewise." His voice was low and rough. "We got the whole gang together tonight. Don't leave early."
I held my pinkie up. "If I don't wake up tomorrow, hungover, naked and surrounded by greasy leftover kebabs, then I didn't have a good night."
His little finger curled around mine. "Sounds disgusting."
I dropped my head to his chest and laughed.
"You better drink up," Grayson suggested, and my eyebrows curved. "We're not staying here, Alexa. Cheap and cheerful to start, but there's a new club open downtown. I hear it's off the charts."
"What? I only just got here." Plus, I will not waste the vodka. "Fine. You better hide the bottle somewhere in those pants because I am not leaving it behind."
Grayson stuffed the vodka bottle down his leather trousers, giving himself an unrealistic looking bulge. "Hey, handsome." His eyebrows danced. "What do you think?"
Arthur's brows jumped. "No."
"Where did you go?" Tall, blonde and devastatingly beautiful grabbed Jace's hand. "I waited for you on the dancefloor."
I am dreaming.
Jace perceived my confusion. "Alexa, this is Charlotte." The woman eyed me from head to toe. "My girlfriend."
Flummoxed, I stuttered, "Your—what?" No, Jace did not snag himself a girlfriend and forget to tell me. "You never mentioned a girlfriend. And since when?" My shock came across as impolite, so I slapped on a fake smile. "Sorry, I am just stunned. Jace never mentioned you before."
"No?" Her nose wrinkled. "He has never mentioned you before, either."
I suddenly felt uncomfortable. "I'm Alexa. Jace's best friend."
"I'm Charlotte," she re-introduced herself. "Jace's girlfriend."
"Are you ready to leave?" Grayson interjected, and I was grateful. "Come on, Charlotte. You can use that glorious ass of yours to get us free entry."
Charlotte flung long, glossy blonde hair over one shoulder. "I am sure we can afford entry fees."
Jace's stare piledrives into me. Yet, I couldn't look at him, or speak, or even exist in that staggering moment. I am happy for Jace. Him meeting a woman, moving on from Lucy and settling down, it's all I have ever wanted. I would be lying if the unexpectedness hadn't knocked the air from my lungs, though.
Jace scratched his jaw. "I sort of hinted at the wedding."
I do recall him mentioning a female interest before we left the hotel.
She's pretty, he'd said.
It's not serious.
I think she might be different, though.
"I am happy for you," I said genuinely, and we embraced each other for another hug. "If she breaks your heart, though."
"I know," he said gravely. "You will snap her fingers. I get it."
I tapped his back. "I'm glad we understand each other."
"It's party time, people." Jared slapped a test tube style shot on my upward facing palm. "Get these down, Alexa. Lethal."
I popped the seal and downed the vilest tasting alcohol known to mankind. "That's disgusting." I burped, and Charlotte pulled a face. "Sorry, I have no control over involuntary belching."
"Right," she said tightly, tugging on Jace's tight fitted T-shirt. "Let's go, babe."
***
Partygoers jam-packed Eclectic. Unpredictable strobe lights, which effectively put everyone in slow motion, blinded me every ten minutes. As a result, I am sweatier than someone who has hyperhidrosis, and my once straight hair semblances a wild bird's nest atop my head. Spilt alcohol sticks to my shoes, and somehow luminous beads took ownership of my neck.
I relieved my bladder for the umpteenth time tonight, wiped, pulled the flush and swung open the cubicle door. Turning on the cold tap, I washed my hands in the basin. In the mirror's reflection, I espied Harlyn perched on the marble counter. Her black shirt threatens to expose her lady bits, and the white lace bralette needs a tug upwards to prevent nipple exhibition. Waist-length pink hair concealed her expression. When I towel-dried my hands, the noise had her eyes jerking up. "Hey," I said, and she smiled sullenly. "Is everything okay?"
"Yeah." She set her phone on the counter. "I needed five minutes to cool down."
Admiring Harlyn's leather ankle booties, I pulled myself onto the counter and settled beside her. Normally, this woman's unfriendly, moodier than what's deemed acceptable and sharp-tongued to anyone within her breathing space. Tonight, though, she's abnormally quiet and crestfallen. Whilst everyone's on the dancefloor, dancing like beatless idiots, she's sat alone at the table. When everyone ploughs through rounds of shots, she nurses unconsumed beer.
"You don't have to sit with me." Her lugubrious tone of voice pulled me out of my trance. "Go and have fun. I'll be out in a minute." Dropping off the counter, she stumbled sideways, caught her footing and entered the cubicle.
Her phone vibrated.
I peered out of the corner of my eye.
"Are you okay in there?" I slanted the phone to check the screen. "Do I need to hold your hair?"
Vomiting down the pan, she moaned, "I am never sick."
Jace: Where are you?
"Ugh, I hate being sick," she grumbled. I placed the screen downward, so she's not suspicious. "Alexa, how do I stop it?"
"You'll feel better once it's gone." Worried she might pass out, I moved to her door and tested the unlocked handle. "Do you want me to come in?"
"No," she whimpered, followed by another violent projectile. "Gross." Flushing the toilet, she fell into the wooden partition, rattling the hinges, and re-emerged. "Do I look okay?"
"You look like shit." Gripping her elbow, I coaxed her to the sink, turned on the cold tap and helped to clean the mess on her chin. "Would you like me to take you home?"
Her head shook.
"Okay, well, I think you should stick to water." I uprooted chewing gum from my purse and stuffed three sticks in her mouth. "Here." Spraying perfume on her to mask the stench of vomit, I combed my fingers through the ends of her hair and effaced smudged mascara from under her eyes. "Look, It's none of my business. But you seem very distracted tonight. Whatever—or whoever—has upset you, I'd give it the middle finger. Nothing is worth sitting in the bathroom by yourself. Besides, I am here to keep the sickness to a minimum." Repacking my purse, I set a hand on my hip. "Stick with me, Harlyn. I make a mean wing person."
Harlyn studied me for a moment. "How do you do it?"
My tongue pushed into my cheek. "Do what?"
"Pretend life doesn't hurt."
Her question felt knowingly deep. It's safe to assume Jace has divulged on occasion. "It's not always easy to pretend. Sometimes, I cry as much as the best of them."
"Yeah, but you went through so much," she prattled on. "You'd never think it. I mean, look at you." Her eyes were wide in awe. "You married Warren. You wear clothes that I'd sell my vagina to own, and you have an air about you that's just...Everyone loves you. Jace really loves you..."
Harlyn's befuddled blathering dwindled. Her melancholic mood fell to the floor as she picked fuchsia polish off her oval-shaped nails. "Come on." I handed her the almost forgotten phone, opened the restroom door and stayed close to her side. "We should dance."
"Oh, no," she protested, and my hand captured her fingers. "Alexa, I can't dance." Thunderous club music set the tempo. "No—"
"Yes," I insisted, dragging her through sweat-slicked hordes.
"Raindrops" by Sash! encouraged the cavernous room to come to life. Holding onto my clutch bag for dear life, I faced a distraught Harlyn and allowed the music to steer movements. The DJ amplified the velocity, and people, pumped with alcohol and some kind of drug, bounced wildly, knocking into us.
I laughed at the insanity, jumping on the bandwagon. Harlyn watched in horror, and then a look of "who the fuck cares?" crossed her face. Dancing in her limited space, she swayed her hips in sync with sporadic flashing lights, and damn, I don't understand her self-consciousness because she puts my shoulder shuffling to shame. Her hands elevated lustrous pink hair up, and for a bizarre second, I was a lesbian. A sheen of sweat dusted her décolletage, and I wasn't her only secret admirer. Tom Hardy's lookalike stands by the concrete column stalked studiously. He broke into a slow-paced prowl, marking her every move. Skirting his knuckles down her spine, his head dipping over her shoulder, he mouthed something in her ear. Harlyn blushed, craning her neck to respond.
"Alexa!" Grayson landed by my side. "Milk me, Momma."
"What? Grayson—" He slid an arm behind my back and sharply lowered my head mere inches from the floor. "You are insane!"
"You. Taste." His tongue swept my cheek. "Salty."
Our bodies moved to the beat. I breached the brink of enjoyment. As I loosen the muscles, I monitored Harlyn. I forced her to dance, to forget about...something I am afraid to address, so I am not leaving her solo.
"Who's the dude?" Gray asked, resting his chin on my shoulder.
"I'm not sure..." The guy's hand grappled Harlyn's buttocks, and she tapped his chest, politely ebbing backwards. He's relentless. His sleazy hands pawed her thighs, her arms and, in for another inappropriate fondle, her ass. "Let me speak to her."
Freed from Grayson's hold, I shimmied to Harlyn, who's now pointing a finger in the guy's face, and tried to mediate.
"Who the fuck asked you?" he shouted, and the hairs on my neck stood. "Get back over there, bitch—"
"Do not speak to my friend like that," Harlyn spat, her hands curling into fists. "You need to find someone willing, dick face."
"Ignore him." I will not allow some rude asshole to ruin our night. "Shall we rest the feet? Buy more vodka. For me. Not you."
"Who the fuck put fifty pence in you?" He shoved me in the shoulder, and unrestrainable ire deafened the music. "You need to get your mutt on a leash—"
I brought my hand back and walloped the disrespect from his mouth. "Fuck you."
His head snapped to the side. I witnessed the demonic presence blacken his narrowed glare. Lips twisting into a snarl, he charged forward in vehemence, and I knew, without peering over my shoulder, Jace had entered the chat. Inked fingers dug into my shoulder. He threw me behind him, his back shielding me from the asshole, and threw the first punch.
All Hell breaks loose. People dispersed, falling over each other to avoid being trampled over, which caused a distressing stampede.
I was more concerned for my friend.
Alfie, thoroughly dishevelled, almost slipped as he ran towards me.
Tom, I shall name him, skated across the ground, hauling Jace down with him. Both men fought for the upper hand, fist for fist, and when the guy outstretched his arm, his fingers stretching to grab the discarded beer bottle on the floor, I unfettered my cemented legs.
With furious strides, I walked into the brawl, lifted my foot and stamped my stiletto into the back of his hand. Shrieking like a dying cat, Tom endeavours to withdraw his arm, which worsened his ruptured skin, and implored Jace to release him.
I am seething.
Wriggling my foot to maximise the pain, I wedged the heel, and tears burst from his eyes. I shook my foot, and his bloodied skin unadhered. Red-faced in anger, Jace staggered to his feet, booted the guy in the ribs and spat in his face. "Jace," I called, and his fierce expression immobilised me. "We need to leave."
Jace's eyes were unfocused until something behind me caught his attention. Harlyn's between Jared and Shane. Tears of guilt splotched her cheeks. Jace's girlfriend stands by the main door to leave, where he needs to be, but he's en-route to see his roommate.
I stepped out in front of him. "What the Hell is wrong with you?"
His look was sharp. "What?"
Feeling the intensity of Charlotte's watchfulness, I pushed off my tiptoes and asked, "How long have you been fucking Harlyn?" He winced. "Jace, seriously? I thought you hated the woman. In fact, correct me if I am wrong. You said, 'her as a roommate is bad enough.'"
"I got myself into an entanglement, alright?" He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "I wanted to talk to you about it, but I barely see you these days."
Tom, the snitch, talked to the burly bouncers. Not wanting further trouble, I laid my hand on Jace's lower back, signalling for the other's to follow, and led him outdoors.
Grayson's resolute on keeping the party in action. I agreed. I am sober, a tad shaken up, but the night's still young.
We walked in pairs down the street.
Grayson hinted at Club 11.
"No," I said unwaveringly. "I am not partying there..." Everyone looked gutted. "I don't care. If I go to Club 11. the Suits will be on my tail within five minutes. Right, Alfie?"
Alfie nodded. "Correct, Ma'am."
"But it's the best club in London," Grayson groused. "Please, Alexa. You can get us the VIP treatment."
"Alexa's entitled to some downtime, guys." Jace had my back. "We are not stumped for cash, so quit the dramatics. I hear Ace's Bar has a neat set-up."
"Yes." Charlotte's hands clapped. "I love Ace's. Complimentary champagne. Here we come."
Harlyn's eyes rolled.
I bit my tongue to quash laughter.
"Anyhow, Club 11's dieted. Holy shit." Charlotte's eyes rounded in glee. "Did you guys hear what happened to Warren?" she asked conversationally, and everyone muffled into silence. Jace shook his head, an order to hold her tongue, but she missed the memo. "Apparently, he got into it with a rival gang. Lost his hand under a tyre."
I snorted. "No, Liam's at home. And they weren't a rival gang. They're an Italian Mafia."
"Mafia," she deadpanned. "I see we have a journalist among us."
"No, I'm his wife," I educated, and if Harlyn didn't love me before, she does now. "Alexa Warren."
"Oh-oh." Charlotte's mouth formed a circle. "I, yeah, I should have recognised you..." She pinched the back of Jace's arm, and he grimaced. "I apologise. You must think I am so rude."
"It's fine." I gave her a flippant hand wave. "Ace's Bar?"
"Yes." Eager to flee gossip, Charlotte gripped Jace's hand and interlaced their fingers. "The first round is on me—"
"Causing trouble without me?"
My heart skipped a beat.
I recognised that voice.
Short hair sitting on her shoulders, Chloe, modelled in too many layers yet still managed to look beautiful, strolled towards us. Pear-shaped diamond earrings dangled from her lobes, sandals refined her elegant walk and her smile, it sprung tears to my eyes. "Alexa." Everyone seemed to disappear. I only saw her. "Love the dress."
I knuckled a loan tear from my cheek. "I love the hair."
Chloe slid blonde strands behind her ears. "Love the shoes."
Foolish laughter fell from my lips. "You came out."
"I did." Her eyes were glassy. "Oh, come here, Hon."
And then, as if time hadn't passed, as if differences of opinions hadn't caused a rift between us, we held onto each other. Chloe felt familiar. Chloe is home. I didn't want to be anywhere else.
"Ugh," she complained, sniffling into the groove of my neck. "Why am I crying?"
I wiped my cheeks. "You big softie."
Giggling through snivels, Chloe stepped back and looked at the night sky to blink back the waterworks. "So, what's on the agenda?"
"My favourite girls back together." Grayson kissed her cheek. "You look great, Goldie Locks."
"Can we wrap this up?" Rubbing her shivering arms, Charlotte stared narrowly at me. "I'm freezing."
Jace might like the woman.
I, however, do not.
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Thoughts on the chapter? I have part two to finish, but it was too long to add to this scene, so expect an update tomorrow. 😘
—Alexa?
—Jace?
—Grayson?
—Alfie?
—Chloe?
—Harlyn?
—Charlotte?
Please vote if you enjoyed. ⭐️