Page 24 of The Hookup
By 11 o'clock on Friday night, they had already spent two hours in the rooftop bar. She had seen no sign of Luke anywhere. Disappointed, she let her hair down and went straight onto the dance floor, leaving Geoffrey at the table with a few of their colleagues.
She spent the night between bouts of sipping cocktails at their table and trying to make conversation despite the loud music, and dancing on one of the podiums with her colleagues. It was while she was taking a breather, and sipping her drink, that she saw Luke in the distance.
There was something about attraction, some subtle, invisible force that allowed her to pick him out from a group, even in dimmed lighting. She was able to locate him like a targeted heat seeking missile in a place heaving with people.
He was in his familiar black T-shirt and pants—his uniform, she assumed, now that she knew better—and he was talking to someone behind the bar. More than talking, he was laughing, and smiling with a pretty young waitress.
Jealousy pierced through her, and for a moment she froze, not knowing what to do, what to make of this or how to approach him. She wasn’t even sure it was still a good idea to confront him about his obvious lie. He owed her nothing, and from the way he had been with her the last time, showing no interest, she was suddenly unsure again.
But he’s in his working environment,she reasoned, knocking back another sip of her drink. It was a valid question to ask him. Not many people, in her opinion, would lie about being multi-millionaires.
Anger, fueled by his lie, gave her a devil-may-care attitude which bolstered her further. That, along with a pinch of recklessness that seemed fitting for a Friday night, made her get up in order to seek him out.
“Where are you going?” Geoffrey’s shrill voice reached her ears as she stood up. He tried to grab her hand but she pulled hers away, disliking the overfamiliarity. “I've seen someone I know,” she said, trying to shake off the cutting edge to her voice, trying to make it sound more blasé. She walked away, not even looking behind her, and her stomach did a peculiar turn as she saw Luke howl with laughter with the pretty little waitress.
“What can I get you?” the girl asked her.
Kay ignored her and looked at Luke, who stood on her side of the bar. “Hi,” she said, and watched his brow wrinkle together for a split second. She suddenly feared that he wouldn’t even be able to recall her name. The loud music didn’t help.
“You found The Vault,” he said, raising his voice so that she could hear.
“Yes.”
When he said nothing else, she wondered if he even remembered her name.
“It’s me, Kay. Savannah’s cousin.”
“I know who you are. My memory isn’t that lousy.”
“I brought more work colleagues along,” she told him.
He glanced over his shoulder. “I see that. Thanks.”
“I should be on commission,” she offered, cheekily.
“Maybe you should.”
“I applied for membership.”
“It’s the only way you get to come here.”
“Or unless a member invites you,” she reminded him.
“Or that.” He smiled. “Someone’s been reading our T’s and C’s.”
“I read every page on your website.”
“That’s eagerness for you.”
She was tempted to ask him now, about his hidden identity, but the music was loud, and it was busy. She leaned towards him. “I never expected it to be such an exclusive club.”
“It works, for our clientele.”
The whole conversation had been around nothing in particular. Nothing interesting. She was seriously beginning to wonder if he might be gay because she couldn’t detect a single interested vibe coming from the guy.
And yet, looking at him, slowly set her pulse and heart beat racing. The music was loud in the background, and she had to listen carefully to catch everything he was saying, so she touched his arm, and shouted into his ear, not wanting to have that conversation here, or shout her way through the conversation.
“I need to ask you something. Mind if we move over there?” she asked, pointing to what looked like a hallway leading off from one side of the bar.
