Page 96 of London, Can You Wait?

Hazza?Alex squinted.

“Nope, spared her. Sit. Have a drink.” Harry waved over the bartender. “You hungry?”

Tarquin shook his head and planted his jeans-clad butt beside Harry. He dropped a packet of cigarettes on the table and dove back into his blazer’s pocket, pulling out a ratty cocktail napkin. A silver ring on his thumb caught the light. “Look what I found from my leaving do.”

“Is that…from three years ago?” Harry pointed at a phone number written in smudged ink.

Tarquin raised an eyebrow. “You know it, my friend.”

“Why on Earth would you save that?”

“Oh, come on! It’s not every day you shag a WAG.”

Alex scrunched her eyebrows. “WAG?”

“Wives and girlfriends…of footballers.” Harry leaned across the table. “In this case, emphasis on wife.”

“Oh.” Her mouth pinched.

Harry nodded at the bartender, an immaculate brunette with a bouncy ponytail. “Pint, Tarq?”

“Sparkling water, please. I’m picking up my Porsche after this.”

“No booze?” Harry smirked. “You’ve been in America too long.”

Tarquin waved the napkin. “I kept this because it’s the football wives who control the purse strings.” He looked at Alex. “Her husband is England’s captain. You never know, maybe they’ll be in the market for a penthouse or something. I made a list of potential properties.”

“Tarq only played football to meet girls. Like father like son.”

“You’re just jealous because Olivia had you on a short leash. Alex, let me tell you, before Olivia got her hooks into him, dear Harry and I dropped more panties than Agent Provocateur. We bedded most of the field hockey team before we graduated from Eton.”

“Talk about overachievers.” Alex smirked. “Your parents must have been so proud.”

“Oh!” Tarquin chuckled. “Remember that time, Hazza, when I DJed that uni bash?”

Harry hid under his hand. “Don’t remind me, DJ Klimaxxx.”

Alex gasped. “DJ what?”

“Klimaxxx—with three Xs.” Tarquin snickered. “My old DJ name in uni.”

She groaned.

“Hey, I earned that name!” He scratched his chest where his v-neck t-shirt met a hint of sparse chest hair. “It was brilliant. Then Olivia came on the scene and ruined everything.”

“Says the bloke who was supposed to be my best man.”

“Happiest day of my life was when you broke it off, mate. Granted, I missed out on delivering my brilliant speech. I had some great lines that would have left Olivia’s knickers in a twist.”

“You win some, you lose some.” Harry shoved his friend.

“Anyway, I come bearing gifts. Property for your Manhattan club.” He turned to Alex. “Despite what this bellend is spinning, I’ve been working on property deals in New York for Budgie the past two and a half years. Life isn’t all drinking and fornicating as delicious as that sounds.”

He raised his eyebrows, digging for a reaction from Alex. She didn’t bite.

“So, what’s next?” Harry rested his arm on the back of the booth. “Dad’s Docklands project or the Square Mile skyscraper…”

“Both.”