Strings Attached (8 page)

She squeezed herself past the large group in her way, trying to avoid looking anywhere in Quinn’s direction.

‘Oh.
My.
Life! Did you like hear what he just played? That is
sooo
my favourite song in the world ever!’ Marisa exclaimed excitedly, buzzing about the kitchen waiting for Helen to serve up some more food.

‘How are we doing? Running low on anything?’ George enquired trying to remain focussed and forget she had been propositioned by the best looking guy in the room.

‘No we’re absolutely fine,’ Helen replied, passing out trays to Marisa.

‘George did you hear Quinn Blake singing? Isn’t he just
amazing
?’ Marisa said again.

‘Make sure you work around the room with the trays; check the crudités aren’t running low and that the business cards are still in the best position,’ George ordered, taking a deep breath and ignoring her comment about Quinn.

Yes he was an amazing performer, in more ways than one and he had invited her to an exclusive, private, meet and greet in ten minutes. Well, approximately nine minutes now.

‘Did you know Adam spoke to him last night? Very unprofessional I thought,’ Marisa piped up.

‘Marisa, you’re just jealous. Now take those trays out please, before things start getting cold. I don’t know! One nice looking chap and your head’s in the clouds isn’t it?’ Helen told her daughter.

‘Thank you, I’ll take those, just run out,’ Curly Shirley announced, whipping the tray from Marisa’s grasp and hurrying back towards the function room.

‘Mother! Will you stop her! She’s trying to get Quinn Blake! She’s like old enough to be his grandmother. Give me the sausages!’ Marisa ordered, snatching up another platter.

George waited for the young girl to disappear and then she bolted to the fridge and got out a bottle of lager. It was petty theft for the second time in two nights she knew, but she
really
needed a drink.

‘Is everything alright?’ Helen asked as George rifled through a drawer for a bottle opener.

‘Yes fine,’ George replied, rattling utensils around looking for what she needed.

If she didn’t find one she would use her teeth. It wasn’t like she had never done that before.

‘Are you looking for this?’ Helen enquired as she passed the implement over.

‘Thanks,’ George answered.

She removed the lid and took a long swig. A wave of calm ran over her as the sharp liquid coated her throat. She felt better already.

‘Something’s on your mind. I always know when something’s on your mind,’ Helen reminded her.

‘Nothing’s on my mind, I’m just tired that’s all after the 1940s Bacardi party. You’ve got to admit that was hard work,’ George said, taking another drink.

‘You’re doing too much in my opinion, taking too much work on. You’re seeking solace in lager, you’ve started listening to Metallica again, you’r
e not eating properly...
’ Helen started.

‘I am eating properly. I ate half a lamb trying to get the canapés just right,’ George insisted.

She couldn’t deny the other points. She had dusted off Metallica’s
The Black Album
the other week and she suspected Helen counted the number of bottles of lager in the catering fridge. She didn’t know what was in the other fridge though. Or what wasn’t. That was definitely a good thing.

‘You need to make time for some fun,’ Helen told her.

‘I do! Come on, parties like this are fun. I’m having fun. See! This is a smile,’ George answered, grinning a little too forcefully.

‘Hmm,’ Helen replied unconvinced.

‘OK, well, say I was thinking about having some fun and it was all a bit impromptu and maybe a bit strange but I quite, you know, liked it - what would you say?’ George questioned, looking directly at Helen.

‘You know what I think George. You need more time for you. Have you thought about going out with Simon from the bakery? He seems such a nice lad and he’s very keen on you. He was only saying the other day he thought you two should have a drink together or something. He’d be nice to have a drink with wouldn’t he? Have you thought about having a drink with him?’ Helen asked, quickly opening the oven door to check on progress.

‘No, not thought about that,’ George answered, taking another swig of her drink and a look at her watch.

What was he doing? She wasn’t like other women. What if she didn’t know the drill? He knew nothing about her. Apart from the way she made him feel and how soft the inside of her mouth was. God she was driving him crazy! He hadn’t been able to sleep last night. He’d gone running at least five miles through the town at 4.00am. No one had ever done that to him before. And he needed to know why she was getting to him. No. This was stupid. He was meant to be mingling with record company executives and influential players from the media. He wasn’t thinking straight. He took a deep breath and moved closer to the edge of the roof. He could get down and disappear back to the hotel. He looked at his watch. What if she didn’t come? That thought unsettled him more than it should.

It was twelve minutes since he’d said
‘
ten minutes
’
and she was standing by the door to the fire escape, staring at the white character man simulating running for his life from a deadly inferno. What was she doing? She should be serving canapés and directing her staff and keeping an eye on Adam. Instead she was loitering by an exit door wondering whether she should open it or not.

Why was he having an effect on her? Why did she want to see him? Why had she enjoyed his kiss so much the previous night? This was uncharacteristic. She was usually the one driving situations, but now, here she was, on the inside of the fire door, responding to someone’s order. And there was no doubt it had been an order. He couldn’t have made it clearer.

There was loud giggling and George heard the doors along the corridor open. People were coming. She needed to make a decision. Open the door? Or go back to the party?

The voices were getting louder, people were approaching. She took a deep breath and pushed open the door.

She stepped out onto the fire escape expecting Quinn to be waiting for her, like some gorgeous, brooding knight, all bolshy and irresistible. But to her dismay there was nothing but the oily black sky and the chilly air to greet her. She was on her own and suddenly she felt very stupid. What an idiot! He must think she was some sort of pathetic fan, who would let him kiss her and order her about just for the thrill of being in his presence! He’d had no intention of meeting her, it was just a game. He probably did this stuff all the time. She should have known better. She did know better.

‘Hey! You’re late!’

It was him. She heard his voice but she couldn’t see him. She looked down to the bottom of the fire escape, but there was no one there, apart from two security guards stood by the doors to
the Hexagon
’s back entrance.

‘I said you’re late. Ten minutes I said, this is almost fourteen,’ Quinn called again.

George looked around her; she still had no idea where the voice was coming from.

‘Hey! Up here!’ Quinn shouted.

George looked upwards, towards the roof of the theatre and there he was, stood on the very edge, looking down at her, a broad smile on his face.

‘What the Hell are you doing? Are you mad? You could fall!’ George exclaimed in horror.

‘Yeah, dangerous isn’t it? So, are you coming up? I have beer,’ Quinn enticed.

He picked up two bottles and chinked them together temptingly.

‘How did you get up there?’ George enquired, wishing he wasn’t stood quite so close to the edge.

‘Same way you’re going to get up here. Give me your hand,’ Quinn ordered, leaning over the edge of the roof and holding his hand out to her.

‘I’m not coming up there,’ George told him, folding her arms across her chest in a show of defiance.

She was a grown
-
up and in charge of catering an important function. She was not stupid enough to be climbing up on roofs at the age of thirty four.

‘Of course you are. You know you want to.’

‘I do not.’

‘Sure you do. Come on, live a little,’ Quinn spoke.

George looked at the hand he was holding out and then looked down at the drop below. This was insane! One slip and it was goodbye life, hello tarmac.

‘Take my hand, put one foot up onto the bar there and I’ll help you. View’s great by the way,’ he said.

George felt a rush of excitement run through her. It was dangerous, it was reckless; it was like when she was a teenager and had found all sorts of new ways to annoy her mother. She had loved rebellion and a little danger then, perhaps she had forgotten how to live for the moment.

Quickly she took off her shoes, put one down as a wedge to keep open the fire exit door and dropped the other.

She reached up, firmly took hold of Quinn’s hand and pulled herself up onto the metal fire escape. With another stretch and a scramble she arrived on top of the roof.

‘You’ve done this before,’ Quinn replied as they sat down on the tiles and he handed her a bottle of beer.

‘Not for a long time and only on a three storey,’ George answered, taking a much needed drink.

‘This is the sort of extreme length I have to go to to get away from people,’ Quinn said with a laugh.

‘And you enjoy every minute of it,’ George answered, looking at him.

‘Yes, I do,’ he replied, looking back at her.

It was those eyes again, like turquoise glass, clear yet dense. Something about the intensity of them reminded her so much of Paul.

They were sat very close together enveloped by a black blanket of night, both staring out at the town’s skyline. She didn’t really know what she was doing here, sat on a roof with the biggest rock star of the moment when she should be wowing people with her buffet. But her heart was thumping a rhythm it hadn’t performed in such a long time
and
she was finding it hard to care what she should be doing.

‘Are you cold?’ Quinn enquired suddenly breaking the silence.

‘A bit,’ George admitted aware she was shivering.

Without saying another word Quinn put his arm around her and drew her closer to him in one quick action. She was suddenly wrapped up in warmth.

She was a grown
-
up, yet she felt like a girl on some sort of awkward first date where no one knows the rules. It didn’t feel like she was sat in the arms of a major rock star, it felt like she was in another time and another place where she was young again. Young and alive.

‘If I could, I’d ask you out to dinner,’ Quinn spoke as he stroked her arm, keeping the cold at bay and sending delicious shivers down her spine.

‘If you could?’ George queried.

‘It’s complicated. I’m watch
ed, all the time, which is why...
’

‘You climb on roofs,’ George finished off for him.

‘Exactly. But I like you you know and
...
’

‘So what do we do?’ George asked him.

‘What do you wanna do?’ Quinn replied.

‘I don’t know,’ George answered almost in a whisper.

‘Yes you do,’ Quinn told her his eyes looking deep into hers.

Before she could stop herself she had reached out and touched his face with her hand. She felt the firm line of his jaw and looked into his eyes, waiting, pausing in anticipation. He just matched her gaze, not letting his eyes drop from hers for a second and as her hand fell to his chest she could feel the strength of his heartbeat.

It was then he moved, taking her face in his hands for the second time in as many days and their lips were together, his mouth hot and sensual on hers.

He lowered her down onto the roof tiles and the raw cold slate sent shivers down her back as he sat astride her. He kissed her jaw, her neck; he ran his hands through her hair and then started to unbutton her blouse.

She thought she was going to combust with the desire she felt. She had never experienced anything like the longing she felt for him now. She wanted him to touch her everywhere.

Wantonly she pulled his t-shirt over his head and admired the perfect body underneath.

And then, completely shattering the moment, a mobile began to ring.

‘Shit,’ Quinn remarked, moving off of George and hurriedly fumbling for the phone in the pocket of his jeans.

She sat up and began to refasten her shirt buttons. Suddenly she felt a bit stupid, sat on the roof of a theatre, half undressed with someone she knew had two platinum albums and liked her canapés, but that was where the knowledge ended.

‘Hey Roger! Yeah it was another great show tonight. Where am I? Well I’m at the party, there’s a good turn-out. Yeah back to the hotel afterwards, sure I know and no late night poker with the boys. Yeah, OK, tell her the same,’ Quinn spoke into the phone.