Strings Attached (15 page)

‘I won’t stop asking until you say yes, you know the drill,’ he answered.

‘I’ve never met anyone quite like you.’

‘Is that a yes?’

Shit, was this what it was like? The whole heart skipping a beat, chest in a spasm, tingling from head to foot feeling. Was this what people felt? He had told her more than he’d told anyone, almost too much. He had wanted to tell her, the words were at his li
ps, ready to fall out, but self-
preservation had taken over. He felt wonderful and near death all at the same time. Was this what love felt like?

Thirteen

‘What the bloody Hell is this? Heavy Metal FM? Has the radio broken again? I mean, I know I moaned about Radio Two but Jesus! I can’t be listening to this all day; I won’t be able to work, like not one bit, not with that noise going on. It’s like totally criminal. Ow! Eardrums actually like splitting now,’ Marisa exclaimed the next morning in the kitchen.

‘Come on Marisa this is AC/DC, it’s classic,’ George announced, smiling at her staff as they took their coats off.

‘Oh.
My.
God. Are you getting this Mother? Something’s happened. She’s either won the lottery or she’s in love, or both. No sane person smiles that much first thing in the morning and listens to this music so loud. Get her a coffee, she’s been on the lager for sure,’ Marisa continued, staring suspiciously at George.

‘Can’t someone be a little cheerful in the morning without getting accused of drinking?!’ George said, holding up her already full coffee mug.

‘So, which is it? Lottery win or new romance?’ Marisa enquired.

‘Neither actually. Sorry to disappoint you. But you are going to love me later,’ George told her, still smiling.

‘Why? What’s happened? Don’t tell me you’ve finally got that gig at the rowing club! I knew it! I knew they would go for the meat and potato parcels!’ Marisa exclaimed excitedly.

‘It isn’t the rowing club and we have to be very nice to your mum today, and I mean extra nice. Making her lunch and supplying her with endless coffee. I might even buy Eccles cakes to really butter her up,’ George said, looking over at Helen.

‘I’m not sure I like the sound of where this is going. You want me to do some really difficult icing job don’t you? Not more than three tiers George, we agreed no higher than three didn’t we?’ Helen began, getting flustered.

‘It isn’t a cake, it
’
s tonight. Would you be able to set up for us at
the Hexagon
?’ George asked.

‘Why? Oh don’t say we’ve got another function and I’m going to miss out on a night with Quinn Blake! Oh George, please let me go to the after-show party, please, please,’ Marisa said, grabbing hold of George’s sleeve and tugging it like a child.

‘You’re not going to miss out on the party, but you and I are going to the Quinn Blake concert. I have VIP tickets,’ George announced, waving the laminated passes at her.

Marisa let out an ear
-splitting
scream and threw her arms around George, almost bowling her into the worktop.

‘Oh I’m not sure I can set up all on my own. I mean there’s so much to do! All those heavy boxes and arranging the tables. I’m sorry you’ll have to forfeit the tickets,’ Helen said in as serious a voice as she could manage.

Marisa spun around, an expression of woe on her face. Helen laughed and smiled at her daughter.

‘Just kidding! You two go and have fun,’ Helen spoke.

‘Oh.
My.
God, they’re really VIP passes! The best seats! Access all areas! Wait ‘til I tell Callie! She will be like so miffed! Where did you get these from?’ Marisa wanted to know as she bounced from one foot to another.

‘I, er, got them from Michael Lambert, Quinn Blake’s PA, the one that booked us for the catering. It’s kind of a thank you for all our work at such short notice,’ George hurriedly lied.

That excuse sounded plausible enough. The reality was the huge black man, who had accosted her in
the Hexagon
car park with the hotel key card, had knocked on the door before 9.00am that morning and handed her an expensive looking parcel.

Inside had been a pair of gorgeous designer jeans in her size and the VIP passes. There was also a note.

Pair number 26 – hope you like them

Q x

The jeans were a perfect fit and she had tried them on immediately, turning around and checking every angle out in her full
-
length mirror. The denim was the softest she had ever felt and skimmed her thighs in the most flattering of ways. She couldn’t wait to show Quinn. It was the most appropriate present anyone had ever given her.

‘This is the best day of my life! Officially!’ Marisa yelled, hugging the passes to her chest.

‘You look brighter today; did you get a bit of sleep? Have you got hold of that pomegranate juice I told you about? The one with ginseng,’ Helen asked as George got back to concocting something new for the party that night.

‘Not yet, but I slept better,’ George informed with a smile.

‘Oh.
My.
God. Mother what am I going to wear?! I have like
nothing
to wear. I mean
nothing
!’ Marisa exclaimed in horror.

‘Well it’s a rock concert isn’t it? Don’t most people just wear jeans? In my day you wore something you weren’t worried about getting sweaty and covered in beer. Have things changed? I’m sure people still sweat,’ Helen said.

‘Yeah, but not in the VIP section! I can’t imagine anyone sweating in there. No, I need to buy something new. I need to go into town,’ Marisa announced.

‘Marisa, you haven’t got time for that. We’ve got work to do. We’ve got four loaves of bread to butter yet and then someone needs to shred the chicken,’ Helen reminded her.

‘It’s OK. Let her go, you too if you like. I’m totally on top of the WI stuff and I’ve already found something ‘delectable’ to do with beef. Take her shopping, tire her out. She might have come down from Cloud Nine by the time you get back,’ George suggested to them.

‘I won’t,’ Marisa answered already putting her coat back on.

‘George are you sure? I mean the WI is catering for a hundred and they want quiches
...
’ Helen began.

‘Quiches are done; I did them before you came in this morning. Go! Go on, before I change my mind. See you after lunch,’ George ordered them.

‘George, you are like the best boss in the world ever,’ Marisa said her eyes shining with excitement.

‘I’ll remember that when you’re swearing at me, the next time we need complicated sandwich shapes.’

There was a familiar tap on the door and Marisa opened it up.

‘Hi Simon! You won’t believe it; I’m going to the Quinn Blake concert tonight with a VIP pass! Me! A VIP!’ Marisa screeched in a frenzied fashion.

‘Well, wow, that’s great,’ Simon answered in a completely unexcited voice.

‘We won’t be long. I can only stay so long in Topshop
.
The music’s too loud and the mannequins scare me,’ Helen said as she followed Marisa out of the house.

George smiled as they left and offered the same smile to Simon. Hopefully, now more time had passed, he might be ready to slot back into their professional friendship.

‘Morning,’ she greeted.

‘Morning. Brought the bread,’ Simon informed, putting the tray on the worktop.

‘Thanks. Would you like a coffee?’ George offered.

‘Well, I’ve got to get on really and
...
’

‘A quick one?’ George suggested hopefully.

‘Well, OK, a quick one,’ Simon agreed, closing the door.

George put the kettle on to boil and got the mugs ready. The atmosphere still felt awkward. She could sense he was looking at her as she spooned the coffee out. She didn’t want this complication, but maybe she only had herself to blame. She had flirted quite a lot with him.

‘So, how’s business?’ Simon asked, breaking the silence.

‘Good thanks, really good. And with you?’ George returned the question.

God this was so stilted. Usually they were already talking local bands and how many Stellas made a hangover.

‘Yeah, not bad, considering how things are in general. You know, with the recession and that,’ Simon answered, shifting his feet about.

George looked at him and let out a sigh. This wasn’t good. She didn’t talk current affairs with anyone, especially not an attractive thirty-something. Had her denying him a date really been the nail in the coffin of their relationship?

‘We never talk about the recession and business. Is this how things are going to be from now on?’ George blurted out.

‘I don’t know. I don’t know what you want,’ Simon admitted harshly.

‘I want things back the way they were. You teasing me about my fancy snacks and me telling you you’re late again and asking about the pool team,’ George said.

‘I asked you out,’ Simon said.

‘I know.’

‘And you said no,’ Simon reminded.

‘I know.’

‘And I don’t understand why. I mean it was just a drink, where’s the harm?’ Simon questioned.

Shit. He wanted a logical explanation. That was never going to happen, because there wasn’t one. She liked him, she knew he liked her, but she just didn’t like him enough. How could you tell someone that? He was a man. He wanted a date. She was single. He was good looking and fun. A refusal with no good grounds was going to put a sizeable hole in his ego.

‘Si, I don’t want to go over it again. Let’s just get things back to how they used to be,’ she suggested hopefully.

‘What if I can’t do that? I mean, I really like you George and I don’t know if I can go back to just talking about your fancy snacks,’ Simon replied his doe eyes meeting with hers.

She was ripping the heart out of Bambi. That was just what she wanted! She couldn’t deal with this. She shouldn’t have to deal with this. Why couldn’t he just take no for an answer?

She turned her back on him and began to make the coffee she was starting to wish she had never offered.

‘Just come out with me, one time. If you think it’s so awful after one date then fine, I won’t ask again,’ Simon carried on.

Was he ever going to stop asking? Suddenly there was a direct comparison with Quinn. The difference was, when he asked, she had to fight with herself to say no, not think of all the reasons why she couldn’t say yes. 

‘One date, come on. You can choose where we go.’

‘No.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I don’t want to ruin our friendship and...’

‘It wouldn’t ruin our friendship, I promise. One date, come on.’

‘No, I can’t.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because I’m seeing someone,’ George blurted out desperate to stop the conversation.

She saw his face drop and his whole persona slump like she had inflicted a fatal blow. Bambi was floored, bow legs flat out and unresponsive.

OK, so what she’d said wasn’t strictly true. She wasn’t having a proper relationship. But it was true she was kind of, loosely, seeing someone. Qui
nn Blake, pop sensation and all-
round hottie. Just thinking his name made her simmer under the apron.

‘Look, maybe you should get your bread from another supplier,’ Simon suggested as he went towards the door.

‘Oh Simon don’t do that, that’s just stupid. I’m a good customer, I always pay on time and we’re friends aren’t we?’ George exclaimed.

‘It’s not enough,’ Simon stated, looking at her with hurt in his eyes.

He opened the door, closed it sharply behind him and left the house.

George took a deep breath. She felt sorry for him. This was usually how every one of her brief relationships ended. The guy would like her a little too much. She wouldn’t like him enough and inevitably it would come to this same conclusion. It didn’t always finish with her needing to find a new bread supplier though. That was bad news.

She took the AC/DC CD out of the player and slipped in a Billy Idol album. She had new jeans, expensive new jeans, and a night of passion with one of the world’s biggest pop stars to come; it wasn’t the time for dwelling on a baker who had a crush on her.

Fourteen

On her impromptu shopping spree Marisa had bought six tops and two pairs of trousers. Wet look leggings and hipster jeans. She had changed three times in
the Hexagon
toilets and had finally opted fo
r the leggings and a long tunic-
style top with black and red stripes. She teamed that with the highest pair of platforms George had ever seen and huge silver hooped earrings. Her make-up left a bit to be desired though. George wasn’t entirely sure how she was going to avoid looking like a panda by the end of the night with the amount of eye liner she had under her eyes. Still,
Marisa
was young and hadn’t she worn similar when she had snuck out of her bedroom window and shinned down the drainpipe to meet Paul?