Page 81 of Mercury Rising
The moment seemed to stretch forever.
“Relax,” Cath said. “I think it’s brilliant.”
Mercury let out a huge sigh of relief. “How did you twig?”
“I saw you creeping down his path like the Child Snatcher fromChitty Chitty Bang Bangwhen I walked through. As a criminal, you’re a dead loss.”
Leaning against the kitchen counter, Mercury faced her. “Do me a favour. Don’t mention it to anyone, including Nick. He’s already panicking.”
“Your secret is safe with me, petal,” Cath replied. “It’ll break poor Gavin’s heart anyway. Let’s keep him safe for a little while longer.”
“What’s the deal with that?”
Cath sat at the table and gestured for Mercury to do that same.
“Basically, ever since he got here, Gavin’s been making eyes at Nick. Poor thing. Gavin isn’t the most subtle of individuals.”
It made sense why Gavin hated Mercury. He saw him as competition. And rightly so.
“I’ve only got a few weeks left,” Mercury replied. “I can be charitable and keep it a secret.”
Cath clapped him on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit. Can I say, you lucky bugger? He’s gorgeous.”
“I won’t argue with that.”
Later that day, Mercury was being annihilated at ping-pong by Hassan.
“You’re way too good at this,” Mercury complained.
“At least it’s not for money,” Eddie said.
Mercury turned to see Eddie and Brooke entwined on one of the chairs. “Hey, guys. Not here.”
Brooke reared up and Eddie stayed her. “He’s right, babe. We wouldn’t stand for it if it were anyone else.”
“Spoilsport,” Brooke said with a pout as she got up. “How about I play the loser of this game?”
She cracked her knuckles.
“If that is supposed to intimidate me,” Mercury said, “it’s working.”
Brooke nudged him with her shoulder and winked.
“You can play Hassan. My phone’s ringing.”
He was technically supposed to leave it locked in the staff room but Jeannie had messaged earlier to say she had a proposition for him.
Mercury dashed out into the garden and answered. “Hello, babe. You’re being very mysterious.”
“Sorry. I didn’t want to offer you something until I had it as definite.”
“And is it?”
“Yeah. You know Oluf?”
Oluf Einarson was a hot Icelandic fashion designer. He had his finger on the pulse of street fashion that he sold to rich kids like Mercury.
“I’ve met him. I love his stuff. Why?”
