Page 27 of A Wish For Jo
Leaving Jo to bask in her glory, Aaliyah scooped up the remaining crumbs with a damp finger. A little primping was in order before she dazzled Jamie with her assets, physical or otherwise.
After checking that no rogue crumbs had nested in her cleavage, Aaliyah headed upstairs, and safe in the knowledge that Jo wouldn't be back for a while — she'd set the WIFI accordingly — snuck into Jo's room. Perched at the dressing table, she applied a lavish coating of mascara that claimed to be 'orgasmic'. Nope, not so much as a tingle. For good measure, she doused herself in Jo's favourite evening perfume — not that Jo went out much after dark. A bit pungent, but the bottle claimed aphrodisiac qualities. Poor Jamie didn't stand a chance.
Minutes later, Aaliyah strutted into the pub. She revelled in the head-turning response, even from those old enough to be … well, who knew? Birthdays didn't figure on a genie's calendar and if they did, she reckoned the fire brigade would need a lot of hoses to extinguish all the candles.
Aaliyah smirked as she clocked Jamie cleaning glasses behind the bar, but her smirk flagged a little when she saw who was sitting on a stool facing him, ample buttocks fighting for space. Bloody Kelly, or Kylie, or whatever her stupid name was. Still, Aaliyah didn't need magic powers to make sureshegrabbed Jamie's attention. Skintight leggings and a slouchy off-the-shoulder top totally trumped the overstuffed sausage-skin creation sported by her nemesis. Why did so many women dress so badly here? Not that the men did much better, Aaliyah thought, eyeing an unfortunate example with his trousers at half-mast and his belly straining against a stained T-shirt.
'Hey, nice to see you again.' Aaliyah started at the rich voice behind her. She turned, coming face to face with the very easy-on-the-eye Ed. 'No Jo today? I guess she's holding the fort at the café.'
Technically, Aaliyah should be there. She glanced at the large clock on the wall: just after midday. By her calculations, Jo would zap back from herAll Risetriumph in around an hour, which was plenty of time for Aaliyah to wind Jamie round her little finger. Ha, as if she needed that long! And anyway, Jo's adventure had lasted a nanosecond in real time. No one would notice her blink-and-you’ll-miss-it absence.
'Yeah, Jo's busy doing cakey things,' said Aaliyah, letting her top slide down another inch. Ed's expression remained unchanged. Jamie, however, ceased his glass buffing and caught Aaliyah's eye. She winked, and his pale cheeks flamed red. As did the tips of his ears, poking out under his mop of dark curls.How adorable!
Ed glanced at Jamie, who dropped his gaze as well as a pint glass. The resulting crash disturbed a slumbering mutt, who gave out a sharp yelp. Jamie's bar companion wriggled off her stool, her leopard-print number creeping up towards her waist.
'Be gentle with him,' murmured Ed, heading over to help clean up the breakage. 'He doesn't have a lot of experience with women.'
Aaliyah followed, pausing only to pat the pooch, still whimpering by its owner's feet. 'There, there. Calm your jets,' she cooed. The dog flipped onto its back and Aaliyah threw in a tummy rub for good measure.
'Any chance I could get one too?' The owner — a scrawny individual with a remarkable resemblance to his pet — leered over his whisky tumbler.
Aaliyah straightened up and blew him a kiss. 'Ah, that would be lovely, but my heart belongs to another.'And I'd rather crawl over that broken glass than touch your icky body.
Reaching the bar, she slid onto the stool vacated by Kylie/Kelly. Still warm from the heat of her generous buttocks, it brought Aaliyah face to face with Jamie.
As Ed vanished with a dustpan full of glass shards, Aaliyah pushed aside the drinks menu. 'I've got a right thirst on, so fix me a pint of your finest ale.' Remembering Jo's jibe about manners, Aaliyah added a purred 'please'.
Jamie nodded and began pouring, although a faint frown creased his youthful forehead. 'Erm, are you sure you wouldn't like a cocktail instead? Not that I'm saying girls shouldn't drink beer, but … well, Kylie and her mates always have cocktails.' Jamie blushed again, and the beer foam spilled over the top of the glass.
'Yeah, that's whatrealladies drink round here.' The scrape of another stool being pulled up signalled the return of Kylie. 'Not that a rude cow like you could be described as a lady. And you're sitting in my chair.'
A flustered Jamie carried on pouring the pint, his eyes darting between Aaliyah and Kylie like a table-tennis spectator. Unfortunately for Kylie, though, there would only be one victor in this game.
'Really?' Aaliyah made a show of examining the back of her stool. 'I don't see a plaque with your name on it. And my choice of drink is exactly that:my choice.As is my choice in men.' She accepted the pint from Jamie's shaky hand and took a satisfying gulp. 'So why don't you tootle off back to your girlie pals and let me and this fine specimen get better acquainted. What do you think, Jamie?'
Before Jamie could speak, Kylie stabbed a French-manicured nail at Aaliyah. 'You've got a bloody nerve, swanning in here like the Queen of Sheba and thinking everyone's going to fall at your feet. Well, I've got news for you. We don't take kindly to up-their-arse newcomers and their fancy ways. Wise up, or you'll wish you'd never crossed me.'
Aaliyah wiped a smidgeon of froth from her upper lip. 'Thank you so much for the advice. Speaking of wishes, I happen to be something of an expert on those. And right now, I just wish you'd disappear.'
CHAPTER29
'Right.You arenotgoing to behave like a curmudgeon with a rampant dose of indigestion.' Harvey paced the floor of his bedroom for the umpteenth time, annoyed that a jagged nail had snagged one of his best socks. Best, as in not having holes in the heels. He perched on the edge of the bed and surveyed the damage. Just a pulled thread: no need for a meltdown.
One of his mother's favourite expressions when he was young came to mind:If the wind changes, your face'll stay like that!He massaged his freshly shaven cheeks, hoping the motion would rearrange his features into something more attractive.
'Ah, you're not bad-looking when you smile. Shame your smiles are as frequent as Scotland winning at the footie these days.'
Harvey smiled and checked the time on the watch Lindsey had given him during their last Christmas together. A jokey one, featuring Mickey Mouse with his gloved hands pointing at the numbers. They'd both known it was her last. Curled up together watchingIt's A Wonderful Life, knowing they'd never pull a cracker together again — Lindsey always got the silly trinket and insisted on wearing the paper crown — or make a wish with the turkey wishbone. Harvey had won that time, securing the bigger end. He'd wished as hard as possible, Lindsey teasing him as he shushed her, wanting to believe that a stupid age-old tradition might halt the cancer's uncaring assault.
Wiping away a tear — they hovered, ever-present, sometimes marshalling themselves into platoons so that Harvey had to seek cover — he knew his grieving had to stop. No, not stop, but take a seat further back in the bus of life. He'd promised Lindsey that the show would go on, the irony of those words coming back to bite him when his career hit the skids. And by inviting Jo out tonight, he had the chance to move up a seat or two. As long as Jo didn't leg it from the pub after ten minutes, in which case he'd be slumped in the back row again with a bunch of rowdy schoolkids twanging chewing gum and laughing at fart jokes.
'You're babbling, man,' he muttered to himself. 'Get a grip and focus on having a nice time. Like bloody buses, they don't come along too often these days.'
The walk to The Jekyll and Hyde took no time at all, and a pleasantly balmy evening meant an outside table was an option. Would they eat together, or just have a drink or two? Harvey's stomach gave the growling equivalent of a thumbs up. His pathetic diet of toast and whisky needed to change. A lot needed to change for him to stand a chance of getting to know Jo better. And that was something he knew was important.
* * *
'Over here!'Jo raised her voice over the hubbub of drinkers and diners making the most of the mini heatwave. Anything over seventeen degrees Celsius constituted a heatwave in Scotland. Acres of white flesh were on show, eager to boast a tinge of sunburn or a decent tan, to show their Spanish timeshare mates they didn't have the monopoly on mahogany.
