Page 28 of Thick as Thieves
I’m sitting in a hotel suite a few weeks later with my guitar in my hands, a notebook and pencil at my side. I feel a bit old school when I drag it out, with James and Bucky taking the piss, simply pulling out their phones.
Between playing a bit of music and writing some lyrics, I’m looking back through random stuff I’ve written throughout the course of the year. A little riff keeps playing in my mind, and I’m working it out on the strings when Evie comes in with the twins in a pushchair. She puts her finger to her lips and pushes them straight into the room next to hers. I carry on playing quietly.
“That sounds good, what’s it from?” she asks as she comes back into the main living area of the suite minus two babies.
“It’s not from anything, it’s new,” I tell her.
She carries on humming it and adding bits in. “I like it. Have you got more?”
I gesture to my guitar and notebook. Smiling at her. She grins as realisation hits.
“Old school writing. Wow, a notebook and a pen. The dark ages. I bet James and Bucky love that.” Her grin widens as I roll my eyes at her. “I’m showering, can you keep an ear out? Betty’s still out shopping.”
I nod and continue to play, but my brain is wholly misfiring as my blood supply has moved south into my now very hard cock. Any brain function has gone AWOL, unless it involves her naked in the shower.
She reappears fifteen minutes later—the longest fifteen minutes of my life. I couldn’t concentrate. I’ve checked on the twins twice. My notebook now resembles a classified document with the majority of the words redacted, as I’ve scrubbed out anything I’ve written. Way too incriminating. And my brain function gets worse when I see she’s wearing a tank top and shorts, her wet hair up in a towel. But I can see it dripping onto her back. The droplets running down her skin. Face devoid of make-up, although she doesn’t tend to wear lots.
“God, I felt grimy. Buenos Aires is beautiful, and the shopping good, but the air pollution… My phone keeps telling me to find a better place, my lungs are in danger.” She laughs, sitting next to me on the sofa.
I can smell her body wash—roses and summer rain. God, she smells like home.
She grabs the towel from her head and starts to vigorously dry her hair again. “What are you getting Kell for his birthday? Are we doing anything this year, dare I ask?” She pushes at me, her smile naughty as she shakes her head.
“Yes we definitely are.” I grin wickedly at her. “And I’m getting him the same thing he gets me.”
“No way, not whatever he asks for. You two are so boring.” She raises her eyebrows at me.
I smirk at her. “Yep, some traditions just work.”
“Party?” she asks with trepidation now in her voice.
“Of course yes, but we can’t decide on a venue. I’ve sorted the party plan, and got the planner. Do you remember Angie?”
She nods. “I liked her, she was nice to me.”
“Well, the rumour is she has a child with Kasey Becker.”
Evie gasps. “No way! Why? How?”
I raise my brows at her. “We told you what he’s like. Well apparently, at the New Year’s Eve party when he nearly drowned, he made enough of a recovery to get Angie pregnant. Her son Cole was born in September. She just came forward and told him. They’re getting sorted now, but she wants custody and money.”
“Oh, God. I’d better phone him and see how he is.” She looks around for her phone, her face a picture of concern for that dickhead Becker. “Who told you about it?” she asks, scrabbling about in her bag.
“John Clayton.” The DJ arrived for the tour spilling gossip left, right and centre. Kasey, it seems, has been thrust into the role of Dad, but according to John has said ‘if Marcus Russell can do it so can he.’ I rolled my eyes at that, he’s such a dick.
“Poor Angie. I bet she was beside herself. I wonder why she waited to come forward? Oh God, Kasey.” She stops herself when she sees my face. She knows we think she’s got it all wrong about Kasey fucking Becker. “Well, you lot can’t manage a condom or a relationship! I’ll phone him later.” She’s flapping her hands at me in exasperation as she sits back down on the settee. “Anyway, what about this party? Where are we having it? Are we back in the UK?” She’s trying to distract me from Kasey bashing.
“We’re on a little break, and we’re thinking about France.” Her face pales, so I quickly rush on. “But Marcus isn’t too bothered so I thought about Scotland. It’s private, and we can manage everyone and everything there.”
Her eyebrows go up. “Oh, boy. That means you need something managed. Is it another sex party, Xan?” She looks at me with worry in her eyes. Blowing out a breath and tilting her face to the ceiling, she looks a bit annoyed.
I smirk at her, shrugging. “Everyone expects it from us. We can't let our loyal following down.” I barely get the words out before I start to giggle at the horrified expression on her face.
“Do I have to go?” Her eyes are getting wider and wider.
“Certainly. Kellen will be beside himself if you’re not there. He wants to make it up to you.”
She’s growing even more uncomfortable all of a sudden, her body stiff and tense. Probably remembering the debacle of the aftermath of the last party she attended.
