Page 82 of Resisting Mr Black
She heaves a sigh, which indicates all is still not well between the two of them and takes a swig of wine. “I dunno, Soph. It might help fire him up in the bedroom department to be honest.”
Before I can ask any probing questions, her phone beeps from inside her clutch bag, and she pulls it out.
“It’s from Sarah. She and Claire are calling it a night. I’m not surprised. I don’t know why she bothered bringing her, she’s such a bloody light-weight and the rest of them.” Lucy rams her phone in her bag. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter, the important ones are left.”
I pick up my glass and take a sip of the cool, dry wine, and we swivel around on our seats and look out into the room. The tempo of the music is rising and beneath the spotlight on centre stage, the stripper is upside down on the pole, thrashing her blonde mane about as her act reaches its crescendo.
“After that prick, Theo, I’m really glad you’ve found Art,” Lucy muses. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m completely jealous because the man is sex on legs, but I’m happy for you.”
I’m happy too. The type of blissfully, stupid happy that I’ve only seen in romantic movies. A grin spreads across my face and I can’t help it. I hold out my glass. “Here’s to the future.” We chink glasses and I take a long drink of wine.
I swivel back around and place my glass on the bar as the music comes to an end and I hear a round of applause erupt behind me.
“Oh my god, that’s the blonde woman,” Lucy gasps.
I haven’t the faintest clue what she’s talking about. I frown in confusion and look at Lucy, who’s staring at the stage. “Who are you talking about?”
“The stripper. It’s that Tara woman you hate.”
My eyes snap to the stage as I twist round. As the woman straightens, my fear is confirmed. The familiar platinum blonde hair is twice its normal size, coiffed and bouffant, and her dark smoky eyes are completely over the top. Other than the black, sequined thong, she’s wearing nothing but black-patent sky-scraper platform heels. Her scarlet lips twist into a self-satisfied smile at the applause she’s receiving as she turns to exit the stage. As she glances back over her shoulder to cast one final look at her audience, I’m sure she sees me, but I can’t be certain.
Lucy sips her wine contemplatively. “She’s got great tits, though.”
I stare in stunned silence at the stage as the lights dip and the music changes to a pop track. I lift my glass of wine to my lips and take a long drink to try and wash away the horrid gnarly feeling in my stomach. “Art said she works in his gym… and Big Steve. He said both of them work in one of his gyms.”
Lucy shrugs. “Judging by her figure, she probably does. People can have more than one job, you know, Soph.”
I suppose Lucy’s right, but I find myself draining my glass of wine and the gnarly feeling is still there and growing by the second.
“Do you mind if we go? I’ve had enough of it in here.” I put my empty glass on the bar.
“Okay, but we’re going to another club,” she insists.
As I slide off the seat and pick up my bag, I’m suddenly very aware of movement in the corner of my eye and glance up to see Tara approaching me.
“Are you here getting tips?” she spits, folding her arms across her chest, pushing up her breasts and making them nearly pop out of the black bikini top she’s wearing.
Anger simmers in my blood. She’s got a bloody nerve. “What are you talking about?”
“You, I saw you watching. Have you come to get some tips to keep him satisfied?” she sneers.
That does it. “I don’t think he’d be interested in anything so seedy.”
Tara cuts her eyes and takes a step towards me. “Oh, you poor cow. You need to know the truth.”
“Tara!” A man’s voice shouts over the din of the music and uneasiness prickles at my flesh as I recognise it instantly.
Art and Big Steve are glaring at Tara.
My eyes dart between the two men as my brain struggles to work out what the fuck is going on. “What are you doing here?”
The line on Art’s forehead deepens and his jaw clenches. His dark eyes slide to mine, and he looks worried. “You shouldn’t be here.”
Something clicks, and a horrid realisation takes hold of me. “Please don’t tell me you visit these places.”
A cackling erupts from Tara. “He doesn’t visit these places, love. He OWNS the bloody place, and he was about to branch out before you convinced him not to sell your precious bloody hotel.”
The world tilts in front of my eyes and I freeze, holding my breath as what I’ve just learnt sweeps over me. She’s stirring up trouble. Telling lies. She’s got to be. He doesn’t own a place like this, he wouldn’t own a sleazy place like this. He’s a successful businessman. Besides, I’ve told him how Theo lied to me. He wouldn’t hurt me like that.