Page 23 of Endurance
When my dirty mind begins picturing her sucking chocolate off my cock, I have to excuse myself to go to the loo and get control of my faculties. Fuck me. How did this bird go from throwing her wine in my face to making me as hard as a rock within the space of an hour? She’s a witch. A temptress. She’s got me completely under her chocolatey, crazy chick spell and I’m entranced.
She’s just finished off her coffee when I come out, so I quickly pay our bill and pull her behind me as we exit the busy restaurant. The photographers are all gone, which doesn’t surprise me because I’m sure they won’t use any of the shots of us laughing and talking like civilised adults. No, no. They’ll use the one of me covered in wine and her screaming at me in the alley. The media are arseholes like that. Nobody cares to read about a happy story. They want dirt, they want drama, they want domestic disputes. They want something that will trend, and nothing gets people talking more than something completely unexpected.
As I hail down a cab, I glance at the time on my mobile and see it’s not quite nine. “I kind of want to do one last thing. Think you’re up for it?”
“What is it?” Belle asks, folding herself into the cab and sliding across the bench to make room for me.
“I want to see how Sedgewick is doing.”
She smiles. Genuinely smiles and nods. “I’d love to.”
The Grosvenor Hotel is owned by one of my old schoolmates whom I grew up with in Chigwell. Duncan and I used to sneak girls into the private park behind my dad’s mansion and get them to show us their boobies. Now, as grown men, we’re still trying to get girls to show us their boobies, but they’re out of their training bras and are wearing sexy lingerie as they spread out in posh hotel rooms. So life is good.
Duncan texts me Sedgwick’s room number and lets me know that he was still there earlier in the evening. I was relieved to hear that because, after Sedgwick’s resistance last night, I wasn’t sure he would stay.
I barely recognise the man who opens the door.
“Tanner, old boy!” Sedgwick bellows with a jovial smile. “Lovely to see you. Come in, come in! Is that Dr. Ryan with you?”
“It is,” I reply, glancing down at his bare feet sticking out from beneath the white terry cloth robe.
“Well, this is a treat. Please, come in. I’m not quite appropriate,” he says, pulling the white towel off his mop of curly greyish-white hair. “But after all we saw of Mr. Harris here last night, I think we’re past the point of proper decorum, don’t you?”
Belle giggles behind me and I roll my eyes. “For a man so concerned about manners, you sure don’t seem to miss a chance of having a go at me.”
He laughs and steps back for us to enter. The room looks like it hasn’t been slept in. The bed is made perfectly. The minibar still seems fully stocked. Even the telly is off.
“How are we this evening, Dr. Ryan? It’s so nice to see you again. I’m not sure I got a chance to properly thank you for the lift last night.”
“Oh, it was my pleasure. Especially since you had the decency to wear clothes.”
Sedgwick hoots with a laugh but then purses his lips when I eye them both harshly.
“Have you been sleeping in the bed?” I ask, walking over to the bed and noting the pillow mint still sitting there.
Sedg looks down and runs a hand through his damp hair. “I erm…I sat on it once. It wasn’t my cup of tea. I have a bad back.” He looks at Belle as he says the last part like she can understand better because she’s a doctor or something.
“You probably have a bad back because you slept in a phone box, Sedgwick.” My words are cutting, but I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Even his canvas bag looks like it hasn’t been touched, let alone laundered. I walk over to the mini-fridge and look inside only to see that not a single drink has been touched. “Sedgwick. I told you to order room service. Did you do that?”
“There was no need.” He begins shifting nervously on his feet.
“No need?” I turn my accusing gaze on him.
“I went to the soup kitchen. It was fine.”
I let out an exasperated sigh and rub my chin with frustration. “You don’t need to go to the soup kitchen while you’re staying here.”
“Well, if I don’t, people will worry about me.”
This gives me pause. Of course this man has some semblance of a family that cares about him. Apart from the fact that I know he’s homeless, he seems like the kind of bloke you couldn’t stand losing.
“This isn’t how it’s supposed to be, Sedg. This should feel like a holiday. You should be living it up, relaxing, watching telly, having friends over—”
“Sedgwick,” Belle interjects. “I’m really quite peckish. Would you mind if I use your phone?”
“By all means.” He gestures toward the end table where the phone sits.
I frown at Belle as she sits down, opens the menu, and proceeds to order a plethora of food. How the hell can she still be hungry after the feast we’ve just eaten?
