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“Well, I might pass on it then,” I say.
“Naw, right up your alley, Marcus. Knock yourself out.”
“Can we meet today? Or tomorrow morning? I'm free whenever.” I’m literally holding my breath. And whilst I don’t want to beg—in fact, I’m not going to—I want to meet him.
“Come alone, this afternoon at 4 p.m.,” he says, his voice changing from smirking to serious. “Don’t bring your boyfriends. Not even Xander. It’s a boutique hotel, and there’s a little coffee shop over the road. I’ll send Mick a pin.” He hangs up.
“Little shit,” says Xander. “I’ll give him boyfriends.”
“All set?” Mick asks from the front. I nod. I’m not sure I can get any words out that would make sense in a sentence. Fucking hell, I’ve only had him for a few weeks and he’s wreaked havoc already. My life was simple before. Eat, drink, party, fuck, sleep, repeat. Not a hard formula to follow. Even I was managing it. But now. James. Jesus, I could lose him. I won’t. I can’t. I need him, I need her. They are my tether to life.
My heart starts to pound and I’m sweating. Maybe it’s the alcohol seeping out of me. But I know it isn’t, not really. It’s fucking terror. He’s going to dump me, before he’s really gotten to know me. And all I can do is hope he gives me a fucking chance.
“You okay? You look a bit green.” Mick is staring at me in the mirror.
“I’m fine, Mick. Christ, what am I going to say to him? What the fuck was I thinking?”
He huffs a laugh at that. Tell him the truth, Marcus. You weren’t. You didn’t think.”
I blow out a long breath. Fucking hell he was ruthless. I felt like he was cutting me open. Every word a sharp blade cutting at me. So like Evie, so like them. Hard as fucking nails. Demanding of me, in ways I have not had to consider since I was eighteen.
We pull up outside on the curb. The place is small, trendy. Large window with partially frosted glass, lots of greenery. A curbside section is full to overflowing, people enjoying a coffee and a chat. Inside it’s more tables and chairs at the front and a few sofas and comfy seats scattered towards the back. It doglegs round to the left, and I can’t see if he’s there or not, so I drop him a message. No point in sitting out in public if I can help it. We won’t get a minute.
Me
Are you here James? I’m outside. Can’t see you.
James
At the back of the shop, in a corner on the left as you come in.
“He’s at the back of the shop. Are you going to park up and come in?” I’m picking up my shades and baseball cap, my typical disguise around town.
“Yes. I’ll get you both a coffee and fetch it over, but then stay at the front of the shop. Make sure you’re not bothered as much as possible. Give you some privacy. Good luck, Marcus.”
I look at him. Jesus, Mick thinks I need luck. What a fucking mess.
“James.” I stop in front of him. He’s got his head down and is on his phone. He looks up at me through his lashes. My breath stutters in my chest. He is so like me. No smiling though, please don’t smile, please don’t smile. He turns into her. I won’t be able to cope. He doesn’t smile. Just nods his head in acknowledgement for me to sit. I feel like a courtier having an audience with the king. I’d find it funny, if it wasn’t so serious.
He just stares at me, unblinking. No words. I’m practically starting to twitch. Fuck, I’m the one normally doing this to other people.
“Managed to leave your boyfriends at home then? Bet that was hard for you all.” I ignore the dig. The little shit. He carries on goading. “Are you on a rota with them, or is it just Gabe all the time? My money was on a rota.” All this is said in the same mild voice he used when he told me to fuck off. The hairs on the back of my neck are standing up.
“I don’t fuck my band mates. Like I said, we share women who want to do that. All consensual. All very grown up.” I know it was a dig at how young he is, and so does he. He practically sneers at me. But I’m not here to rehash what he already knows.
“Yeah, I suppose as you get older, you’d need others to help you out. What are you now, thirty six. Only a few years til you’re forty, you’ll need an army at your disposal then. Better get recruiting, Marcus, or upgrade your pills.” A fuck you grin appears on his face. I’m dazed by how much he looks like his mother when he does it.
“I’m not that fucking old that I need others to do my part. I can hold my end up just fine.” I smirk at him, sitting like a cocky areshole in my seat. Until I realise I’ve fallen straight into his trap.
“No, but you’re old enough to be my father. Or is that the point? You feel you’re too young for the job, too carefree, no responsibilities, and you’re not interested. Too much like hard word for you.”
Fuck me. I drop my head back, grabbing the back of my head with my hand. Taking my glasses off so he can see my eyes, how serious I am, I face him straight on. “I’m not too young for that job.”
“Really? Could have fooled me. Looked a lot like a well-practised set up. Tits-a-lot and Co on speed fucking dial. You think I want to see that?”
“No.” I don’t get a chance to say anything else before he goes on.
“You think I need to see your prowess in the bedroom before I can make a decision on whether you’d be any good as a Dad? Even my uncles are more discreet than you. And as for my mother? You don’t even blip the radar on her level.”
