This Man (Page 133)

Fuck off! ‘It’s fine, Matt. Don’t worry about it.’

‘Cool.’

I inwardly vomit when James walks over to join us, looking at me with the contempt I feel for him. He can go and take a leap! I smile sweetly, repositioning myself on the stool with caution. This dress is ridiculous, and while I felt perfectly comfortable up until Matt found me, I now feel over exposed and vulnerable under the scrutinising glares of my ex and his friend.

‘James.’ I nod in acknowledgment to his presence.

‘Ava.’ he retorts. His cold tone doesn’t escape my notice. He must have told Matt about his encounter with me and a tall, blonde, aggressive type, so why is Matt being so pleasant?

‘Can I buy you a drink for old times’ sake?’ Matt offers.

‘No, honestly, I’m good.’ I hold up my half full glass of wine. For old times’ sake? What? Like a celebration of how much of a knob he was? Please!

I don’t see her, but I know she’s near. The sudden ice that emanates from Matt’s body is potent. James is no better. He and Kate didn’t exactly see eye to eye either.

‘What the f**k are you doing here?’ she shouts as she approaches.

My shoulders tense. ‘Kate, we’re fine.’ I placate my fiery, red headed friend.

‘I was just leaving.’ Matt hisses.

‘Fuck off then!’

He returns his eyes to me. ‘It was nice to see you, Ava.’

‘You too, Matt.’ I smile. What would be the point in being hostile? The bloke’s sorry – I think. Oh, whatever. He’s out of my life, and I can’t be doing with the drama. I laugh to myself. My life is one big dramatization at the moment.

Matt and James leave me in peace, until Kate lets loose. ‘What are you doing talking to that snake?’ she blurts across the table, as she lifts herself onto her stool.

‘He was just saying hello. He was being polite.’ My bored tone will probably irritate her more. She’s a firecracker!

‘I couldn’t give a shit!’

My face wrinkles. ‘You sound like Jesse.’ Lord, I don’t need a challenging best friend to match my challenging man. She huffs a little before swigging her wine. I join her, finishing off my own glass. ‘I’ll get another,’ I take some money from my clutch. ‘Watch my bag.’ I make my way to bar to order another round of drinks and wait patiently for the barman to get my order.

‘All right, love.’

I roll my eyes and turn, finding a stocky, slimy, over confident type, giving me the look.

‘Hello.’ I say courteously, turning back to the bar as the barman places our wine in front of me. ‘Thanks.’ I hand him a twenty and take a swig, all the time feeling slimy man next to me dribbling into his pint. My skin starts to crawl. I mentally plead for the bar man to hurry with my change, and even consider the merits of abandoning my money in favour of retreat.

‘Fancy a dance?’

‘No, thank you.’ I smile, grab my change from the barman and make a hasty get away. He gives me a disgruntled look, but he doesn’t push his luck.

This is my third glass of wine. I really am being a rebel. Oh well. After Jesse’s performance at home, I’m on a private defiance mission to have the last say.

A few hours later, the bar crowd is thinning out and we’re probably on our third bottle of wine. We’re giggling like a pair of teenagers, and I’m getting pretty brave with my questioning.

‘Were you really tied to the bed?’ I ask cheekily. The grin that spreads across her face tells me I wasn’t having my leg pulled. I’m not even that shocked. It must be the affect of the alcohol, or it could be all the steamy sex I’ve been getting myself lately. ‘I knew it,’ I laugh. ‘You need to tell him to put some clothes on when he’s wandering around the flat. I don’t know where to look.’

‘Are you mad?’ Her eyes bug at me. ‘What a waste of a fine physic!’ Kate looks off into the distance, obviously recalling a mental image. Yes, it is pretty fine, but it doesn’t mean I want to look at it. I’ve got my own super fine physic to look at. Speaking of which, I’m drunk and I want to see him. I might call him. But then I remember…I’m not supposed to be drinking. Pah! I take another swig of wine.

‘What does he do, anyway?’ I ask. He drives a Porsche and never seems to be at work.

She shrugs. ‘Rich orphan.’

‘Orphan?’

‘Apparently,’ she begins thoughtfully, ‘his parents died in a car accident when he was nineteen. He has no siblings, no family, nothing. He lives off his inheritance and plays very hard.’ She smirks again.

God, Sam’s an orphan? I can’t imagine losing my parents at that age. Or any age, in fact. That must have been awful. And with no family to take him in? I suddenly see the cheeky chap in a very different light. You would never know something so dreadful had happened to him; he’s always smiling and joking.

‘How old is he?’ I ask.

‘Thirty,’ she answers, almost reluctantly, like she feels guilty for knowing the age of the man she’s screwing.

I let it pass. It’s not Kate’s fault that I’m clueless. ‘What do you make of Drew?’

Her eyebrows jump up. ‘He’s a bit straight and aloof, isn’t he?’

‘Yes!’ I exclaim. I’m glad I’m not the only one who finds him this way. ‘Not Victoria’s type at all.’

‘Give it two dates, maximum,’ Kate points her glass at me, sloshing a bit on the table. ‘She’ll bore him to death with a run by run account of her latest visit to the tanning salon.’