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“Why?” I query, a little pissed off.
“I haven’t got time for this, E. Where the fuck are you?”
“Bog off, I’m busy. I’ve just ordered dinner.”
“Evie, tell me where you are and I’ll come get you.”
“Noooo. I’m out for dinner,” I enunciate each word. “I’m out for the night, so, sorry but…”
“I don’t have time for this shit fighting with you. You’ve two choices here. Fuck or Fight? I don’t have time for both, so pick one.” I’m speechless. The man’s ego has gone galactic.
“Well it’s not the former, as you don’t know where I am.” I’m grinning like an idiot at the ridiculousness of him. He’s been in LA way, way too long.
Then he plays the ace up his sleeve. “Any Greystone will know where you are. One well-placed call will sort that out. Especially to Jonno. Pick one, Evie.”
I consider telling him for a heartbeat and look over at the two women staring at me, one waiting avidly, the other sneering at me. I don’t want him here with these two. But I like to wind him up. And I’m feeling a bit cocky.
“Well, I know they won’t spill the beans, they daren’t. So if you can find me, you can have me. Pick me up in an hour and I’ll give you the best fucking fight of your life.”
He starts to chuckle, then says, “See you in ten minutes, Kitten.”
“Dream on, Sherlock.” I hang up on him, laughing.
I stare at the phone in trepidation. Ten minutes? What does he mean? They better not tell him where I am. They have no right, they’re normally protecting me by not giving out information freely.
“Who was that? Evie, you’ve gone really flushed, is everything ok?” Grace looks at me with concern.
“Not another famous man adding to your issues,” snorts Lauren. I swear to god, she is asking for it.
“Yeah,” I wave around, “knocking them off left, right and centre. Ten a penny round these parts.” We all laugh at that and I feel the ice break a bit. “What were you saying Grace?” I ask her, going back so she can wax lyrically about Marcus.
“I was asking for all the deets. Is he as gorg in person? What does he smell like? How ripped is he?” She starts to count the questions off on her fingers like she’s completing a checklist. She then leans forward, lowering her voice and asks, “Is he really an animal in bed? Is he as good as they say? And does he have a piercing?” She sits back, picks up her glass while simultaneously pointing down at her lap, and takes a massive gulp of her wine. Setting it back on the table, she throws her arms up in dramatic fashion and states, “Let’s take it from the top Evie. Question one: Is he…Holy fucking shit!!”
I know he’s here without looking around. How the hell did he get here so quick? And how did he know where here is? I hear the buzz of conversation in the restaurant go up about ten decibels. When I do twist my neck to peek, Vinny is coming across with him, yes’ing and no’ing. I see the starstruck faces of my friends. Holy fucking shit indeed.
Kellen stands at the side of the booth. “Room for a little one?” he asks, shoving me over as he pushes in beside me, not even waiting for an answer. “Evie,” he says, looking at me and moving forward to kiss me on both cheeks. I see the glint in his eye, but play along.
“Marcus, or should I start calling you Sherlock now, what a surprise.” I’m gobsmacked, and my brothers are dead men.
“Marcus, really? Strike one, E.” He ignores the Sherlock, turning and grinning to my friends, and amps the charm up to high voltage. “Hi, I’m Marcus.” He stands again and moves around the booth to kiss both the girls in greeting.
They are stunned, mouths hanging open, no words coming out.
Grace gets it together first. “Marcus, it's really nice to meet you. I’m Grace and this is Lauren,” she trails off after that, not sure what else to say.
“Hey, great to meet you all. Sorry to gate crash, but I needed to pick up stuff with Evie before I head back to LA. Is it ok if I join for a short while?” He’s smiling at them, and they’re nodding like plastic toy dogs in the back of a car.
“You could have rang and discussed it, Marcus. You really didn’t have to track me down,” I tell him.
“Strike two,” he smirks.” And hardly any tracking needed. A simple phone call as discussed was sufficient.”
I lift my shoulders in exasperation, at both him and my brothers. “What time are you flying back, Kellen?” I emphasise the name.
“Plane goes at 4:30 a.m. I need to be there around four.”
Lauren pipes up, asking how come he can board so close to time.
“Private jet, so yeah.”
