Love at First Slice, page 21
‘I’m 100 per cent. A little tired but apart from that…’ Quinn replied.
He was looking at no one else but George and she felt the back of her neck start to prickle.
‘Good morning, Team Take! Now, you make sure you do exactly what this wonderful lady tells you to. She is a culinary queen and you could learn a lot from her. George, you be sure to let me know if there’s anything you need, anything at all, no matter how trivial it may seem,’ Michael spoke, his glossy hair bobbing up and down.
‘Team Take. That is like sooo lame,’ Marisa remarked only loud enough for Adam to hear.
‘It could have been worse; it could have been Team Baylor or Quaylor or Berraro. Or how about Team Tinn?’ Adam suggested.
Marisa let out a snigger.
‘I will Michael, thanks,’ George replied, avoiding Quinn’s gaze.
‘Right well, don’t let us keep you; we’re off to be interviewed for Channel Nine and then it’s off to the castle. Toodle pip!’ Michael spoke, waving his hand in the air like an eighteenth-century courtier.
‘Hey, Adam. Meet me about three at the castle. I might have a job for you,’ Quinn called to him.
‘A job?’ Adam queried.
‘Yeah, I’ll explain later,’ Quinn spoke.
‘Sure, I’ll be there.’
‘Oh. My. God Adam! He spoke to you!’ Marisa exclaimed, eyes bulging.
There were no variations in the questions. He had been asked the same set of questions numerous times in the last month.
‘Will you be writing the wedding music?’
‘Do you know what Taylor’s dress is like?’
‘Is Charlie Sheen on the guest list?’
And he rolled out the same answers:
‘Yes, and it will feature on my new album, out in the fall.’
‘No, she’s kept it a closely guarded secret.’
‘You’ll have to ask the wedding planner, but it could be fun if he is.’
His head was aching, his mouth was dry and the last interviewer had gone on so much about the wonderful relationship he had with his future father-in-law, by the time his fifteen minutes was up, Quinn wanted to wallpaper the room with his body parts. Thank God he had plans in place for the evening.
‘Hey,’ George greeted later.
‘Hey. Where are you right now? Not still giving orders to that team of freaks Pixie’s hired you, are you?’
She laughed out loud at Quinn’s description and took a swig from her bottle of lager. She was sat on a lounger on the terrace of the villa, soaking up the scorching sun. Food preparation had finished early, Helen had gone to the market and Adam and Marisa had taken the Jeep to see the celebrity boltholes she was so keen to visit.
‘I’m at the villa. Where are you?’
‘At the castle. We’re just about to rehearse these God-awful, long, drawn-out vows. The last timing of them was four minutes each. Four minutes! Half my songs are shorter than four minutes. Are you on your own?’
‘Yep, just me, the pool and my best friend, San Miguel,’ George said, putting the bottle to her lips again.
‘Give me fifteen and I’ll be there,’ Quinn told her.
‘Don’t! You can’t! The others could be back at any time and anyway, you should stay there, rehearse the vows,’ George said.
‘Believe me, what I should do and what I want to do are poles apart,’ Quinn said.
‘I know, but we have to be realistic.’
‘I am. Four minutes each, that’s eight minutes. Golf buggy to your villa say, four minutes. I’ve three minutes to spare.’
She laughed.
‘OK, well even if I don’t make it, you and me, we’re going out tonight,’ Quinn told her.
‘Quinn, we can’t. Where will Taylor think you are? Where will I tell Adam and the others I’m going?’ George asked.
‘Make something up! Use your imagination. We’re going to the opera. It’s all arranged,’ Quinn informed her.
‘What?!’ George exclaimed.
‘Listen, I know it probably isn’t your musical taste and I don’t really think it’s mine, but I like doing different things and, well, I want to do those things with you,’ Quinn spoke.
‘But what if we’re seen? I mean, the paparazzi are everywhere at the moment.’
‘I’ve thought of that. We go in separate cars, we meet inside. I’ve hired a box; we’ll have complete privacy,’ Quinn assured.
‘I don’t know. It’s too risky. I need this job Quinn and…’ George started.
She was getting butterflies in her stomach, but it wasn’t fear; it was a thrill just thinking about the risk.
‘What I need is you,’ Quinn told her.
There was a heavy silence and neither of them spoke. George closed her eyes, not knowing what to say.
‘I’ve got nothing to wear,’ she finally blurted out, trying desperately to break the intensity.
‘All in hand. Say you’ll come. With the bachelor party tomorrow and more rehearsals the day after, I don’t know how much time we’re going to have,’ Quinn spoke.
‘What are you going to tell Taylor and Roger?’ George wanted to know.
‘That I’m feeling hot and a little dizzy. It won’t be a lie, not once I’ve seen you in the dress.’
George smiled, her resolve weakening rapidly. She was supposed to be maintaining her professionalism, building a platform for the future of Finger Food. But when she thought about spending more time with Quinn, the business slipped down to second place. That had never happened before.
‘It’s the theatre in Murcia; I’ll send you over directions with the ticket. Gotta go, four-minute vow time,’ Quinn said, ending the call.
George put her mobile down, put her iPod earphones back in her ears and took a deep breath. A night at the opera. How was she going to explain that away to her team? Especially Marisa. In some areas, that girl was as sharp as a tack.
As if sensing she was being thought about, Marisa arrived, slamming shut the patio door behind her. She strutted out onto the terrace and began taking items of clothing out of carrier bags and putting them down on the table next to George.
‘OK, right. Where do I start? I have been to sooo many cool shops; you won’t believe what I bought!’
‘What have you done with Adam?’ George asked, taking her headphones out of her ears and sitting up.
‘He’s taken the Jeep to the castle. Said he didn’t want to be late for Quinn. He’s been humming and tapping and singing all the way round the town. We even had to go into a music shop so he could play guitar. Why didn’t he just bring one with him?’
‘You had to pay a fortune to bring excess baggage and he was worried they’d break it,’ George told her.
‘Look at these beauties! Aren’t they just like the most gorgeous things you’ve ever seen?’ Marisa asked, taking out a pair of banana-yellow sandals with skyscraper heels.
‘Are you thinking you might actually be able to walk in them?’ George queried.
‘I walked up and down in the shop.’
‘Hmm,’ George replied, unconvinced.
‘Well, look at these. Half price, aren’t they cute?’ Marisa said, holding up two flimsy-looking mini dresses.
‘They’re tops, right?’ George asked.
‘Argh! Mother! You said she would say that!’ Marisa exclaimed loudly.
George looked round sharply. Helen was sat on the veranda underneath the canopy, seemingly engrossed in a book.
‘Oh, Helen! When did you get back?’ George asked, trying to quell her panic.
How long had Helen been sitting there? How much had she heard? George couldn’t remember if she had said Quinn’s name out loud.
‘Not long ago. You were on the phone when I got here and then a package arrived for you. Then I had to hear all about Marisa’s shopping trip. Just sat down,’ Helen informed.
‘Another package? Where is it? Is it another expensive-looking box? Let me see,’ Marisa spoke, stepping back towards the villa in search of the sacred parcel.
‘It’s just something for a function I have to go to tonight,’ George said hurriedly, getting up and chasing after her.
‘A function? What sort of function? Where is it? Are we invited?’ Marisa questioned.
‘It’s just a get together for the team leaders of each entity involved in wedding preparations. Sorry, just me,’ George said, grabbing the box from the dining-room table and clutching it to her chest.
‘Well, it isn’t on the itinerary,’ Marisa said, a sulky expression on her face.
‘No, it was a last-minute thing because the briefing ended so suddenly the other day,’ George said, clutching the box tighter.
‘Well, we were all at the briefing; why can’t we all be at this?’ Marisa asked, scrutinising her.
‘I don’t make the rules, Marisa. Right, well, I’d better take this upstairs,’ George said, turning and heading as swiftly as she could towards the staircase.
‘Is that a dress? I saw dress material poking out; it’s a dress, isn’t it? Let me see!’ Marisa exclaimed as George began to ascend.
‘It’s just something they hired; we all have to dress up, God knows why! It’s probably one of Pixie’s ideas. It will be something completely zany and not me at all,’ George told her.
‘It looks designer to me. Is it designer? Let me see!’ Marisa begged, about to mount the stairs after George.
‘Marisa, will you stop badgering George! Isn’t she allowed any privacy? Not everyone wants to tell the world their business, do they?’ Helen reprimanded sternly as she entered the villa.
‘Well, I…’
‘Come and show me how you walk in those ridiculous shoes and I’ll decide whether or not to let you out in public in them. How about that?’ Helen spoke.
George closed the door of her bedroom and eagerly opened the box.
On top was a map and typed directions to the theatre, together with a ticket for the opera El amor y la pérdida and a note from Quinn.
Jeans don’t cut it at the opera – hope you like it Q x
28
The material was as soft as silk. It had a pearlescent sheen to it and reflected the light as George moved around in front of the mirror. The colour was blue when she swished one way and grey when she turned another. It was full length and classic, nothing too flash or showy, just well-cut and understated. The shoes matched the colour of the dress fabric. They were lightweight but high and not something George would usually wear, but they did look the part. Whatever part that was. Caterer to the wedding of the solar system? Mistress to the groom? Black sheep of the Fraser family?
She had smoothed down her usually spiky hair and had added some plain, silver, hoop earrings. She gazed at her reflection and then automatically, her hand rose to the chain around her neck and she began to toy with the ring on it.
There was a knock on the door.
‘Who is it?’ George called.
‘It’s only me. You decent?’ Adam’s voice called.
‘Yes, come in,’ George invited.
Adam opened the door and let out a loud whistle of approval when he saw what she was wearing.
‘Wow! You look amazing!’ he told her.
‘Thank you,’ George answered, smiling back at him.
‘Marisa says you’re going to some function to do with the wedding.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Well, they picked a fantastic outfit for you.’
‘How did things go at the castle, with the music?’ she asked him.
‘Really good. I’m playing violin for the entrance of the bride. It’s a fantastic piece Quinn wrote. It’s soft and it’s sensual and then it’s vibrant and alive. He’s an amazing songwriter,’ Adam told her, sitting down on her bed.
‘God! You’re playing music for the entrance of the bride at the wedding to end all weddings! That’s a big honour, Adam,’ George spoke.
‘I know. I asked Quinn why he wanted me to do it and he said he’d never heard anyone play the violin with quite as much passion.’
‘That’s a massive compliment.’
‘I know and he thinks I have a big career ahead of me,’ Adam added.
‘You do,’ George agreed, looking at him.
‘Yeah. It doesn’t seem to impress Marisa, though,’ he said with a sigh.
‘Oh?’ George said, sitting next to him on the bed.
‘I tried to let her know I was interested you know, by the things I said, by putting my arm around her, by opening doors for her and carrying her bags and stuff but – she just didn’t seem to notice.’
‘Listen Ad, sometimes, especially when you’ve known someone a long time, you have to be a bit more obvious about your change of feelings. I mean you two have always been friends; friends open doors and carry bags. I think you need to be more direct,’ George said.
‘What d’you mean?’
‘I mean maybe you should ask her out on a date. Take her to that celebrity restaurant she wants to go to or something. Make it clear it’s a date not just two friends having dinner together,’ George told him.
‘What if she says no?’
‘Come on, this is Marisa! Being invited out to the celebrity hangout in the area! There is no way on Earth she is going to say no,’ George said with a smile.
‘But I don’t want her to say yes because she wants to go there. I want her to say yes because she wants to go there with me,’ Adam explained, looking at her with his big, soulful, brown eyes.
‘Who wouldn’t want to go anywhere with you?’ George said, taking hold of his hand.
‘You’re biased because I’m your little brother,’ Adam said with a laugh. He took his hand from hers and stood up.
‘So how are you getting to this function then? Car picking you up?’ Adam enquired.
‘No, I’m driving,’ George informed.
‘In that dress and those shoes?’
‘I was going to put sandals on and change when I got there.’
‘Don’t be daft; I’ll drive you. Where is it?’ Adam asked.
‘There’s no need to do that,’ George said, picking up her bag and going to the door.
‘But if I drive, you can have a couple of beers or champagne. Free drinks all night, I bet,’ Adam said, following her out.
‘Honestly, I’ll be fine. I don’t really feel like drinking,’ George said, hurrying down the stairs in a bid to get away from all the questioning.
‘Hang on, what did you say? You don’t feel like drinking? Are you all right?’ Adam questioned.
‘Look, keep your voice down or Marisa is going to be in here asking questions and to be honest, she scares me when she starts asking questions,’ George hissed.
‘So what’s the deal? Why the secrecy?’ Adam wanted to know.
‘I, well, er…’ George began, racking her brain for something sensible to say.
‘You’ve got a date, haven’t you? The dress, the shoes… there’s no function; you’re going on a date!’ Adam exclaimed.
‘Will you keep your voice down! Yes, OK, I’m going on a date, but don’t you tell anyone,’ George ordered him seriously.
‘Well, who with? How long’s it been going on?’
‘Not long. It’s nothing serious,’ George said as she looked around the dining room for her jacket.
‘Well who is it? Someone you met here in Spain? That’s freaking quick work.’
She didn’t respond to the question; her heart was hammering on her ribcage. She picked up the keys to the Jeep and headed towards the door.
‘Hold it! Where are you going? Aren’t you going to let us see what was in that box? Holy shit! Look at you!’ Marisa exclaimed in awe as she came out of the living room and stood gawping at George, chewing gum sticking to her bottom lip.
‘I’ll take it I look sick,’ George responded, opening the door.
‘She’s going on a date,’ Adam blurted out.
‘What?! I thought you said it was a function. A date with who? Have you got a secret man here in Spain? Oh. My. God. It’s someone from the band, isn’t it? I know, I know, it’s Eddie the drummer. Oh God, I should have guessed. He kept making a detour for your canapé tray at the after-show parties. How long has it been going on?’ Marisa wanted to know.
‘Not long. Look I’d better go or I’m going to be late,’ George said, checking her watch again.
‘Bit dressed up for Eddie the drummer; I’ve never seen him in anything that isn’t ripped. Maybe it’s someone from management. Is it Michael? He’s always all over you telling everyone how great you are,’ Marisa carried on.
‘Marisa, Michael’s gay,’ Adam informed her.
‘Is he?’ Marisa asked, her eyes widening in surprise.
‘He’s gayer than Colin and Justin and John Barrowman all in the same room singing ABBA,’ Adam told her.
‘I’m going,’ George said, opening the door.
‘Honestly, let me drive you. I don’t mind and I promise I won’t loiter around to see who you’re meeting,’ Adam said.
‘Am I going to be able to say no and leave this villa alive?’ George asked.
‘No.’
‘OK, well, let’s go but you are not bringing me home again; I’ll get a taxi,’ George insisted.
‘Quiz her all the way there and come back with a name,’ Marisa ordered.
His hands were trembling as he did up his shirt buttons. He had to stop this shaking lark; he had a reputation to uphold. He couldn’t appear vulnerable to anyone around here. The truth was, he was both scared and excited about tonight. It was a big deal taking George to the opera, for lots of reasons. Tonight was going to be special for both of them and he didn’t want to fuck it up.
He splashed some cologne on his face and looked at himself in the mirror. He let out a sigh of discontent and picked up his watch.
Adam talked all the way into Murcia, about university, about Marisa, about Quinn, particularly about Quinn and how much he had enjoyed working on music with him. It was thirty minutes before they were pulling up just across the square from the theatre.
The temperature was still in the mid-twenties and the city was alive with people, walking up the picturesque boulevards. The theatre itself was an impressive building. Its facade was pink and grey and the unusual colour made it stand out amongst the other structures. It was both grand and statuesque.
