Filthy English (13 page)

He took a sip of coffee. “Lulu called.”

“Oh?” I guess they’d exchanged digits. Spider might be a smartarse, but women loved that on him. “You interested in that?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Then why bring her up?”

He shrugged. “She happened to mention they’re headed out to see some sights today, and I thought we might want to tag along—you know, as tour guides.”

“I need a break from Remi.”

“If you’re just friends, then what’s wrong with hanging out?”

My lips tightened. “Nothing. Just need some space.”

“You like her. A lot.” A knowing grin worked his face.

“No more than I like any other girl.”

“Uh-huh. Okay, that’s fine. I’ll text her and say we’re busy.”

I stood to put my plate in the dishwasher. “Good.”

“By the way, don’t you think you’re forgetting something this morning?”

I shrugged. “No. Why?”

He chortled in glee as he held out his palm. “Oh how easily he forgets . . . pay up, mate. You officially lost a bet last night, and I want my money.”

“Wanker. Whatever.” I rolled my eyes, dug around in my jean pockets, found a quid and slapped it on the table.

He picked it up. Inspected it like it was a Spanish gold coin. “Fucking best day ever.”

I gave him the middle finger behind my back as I wandered back to my bedroom to hop in the shower.

I WOKE UP
around lunchtime feeling like crap. My head throbbed, my throat ached, and it looked like a family of mice had taken up in my hair. I cranked up Sia on my phone, popped a couple of Aleve that I’d packed, and showered for half an hour.

Today was about me.

And I wanted to take in London—even if I felt like death warmed over.

Because I was still breathing and that meant
something.

After a breakfast of pastries and jam, I felt much better. Months ago, I’d set up a guided walking tour for Hartford and me, so Lulu and I kept the reservation. With other tourists, we started our pilgrimage at the iconic Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament. I gazed up at the clock I’d only seen in pictures and inhaled the warm August air. It was a beautiful day, and I felt wonderfully overwhelmed by the history around me.

Eventually we made our way past quaint shops to Westminster Abbey, the place of coronations, burials, and royal marriages, containing over seven hundred years of British history. We spent two hours there, exploring the Royal Tombs, the Nave, and the Poets’ Corner. Although Shakespeare was buried at Stratford-on-Avon, the Abbey had a statue memorial for him, and I made sure Lulu snapped a pic of me in front of it, which I promptly sent to Malcolm, who loved the Bard.

After the tour ended, we took the tube to the London Eye for a ride in one of their luxury capsules—another activity I’d arranged. We munched on chocolates and sipped wine as we circled the skyline in luxury, taking in the breathtaking views over the city. Lulu and I giggled a lot, and I wouldn’t realize it until later, but I didn’t think of Hartford once. But Dax—he was always in the back of my mind.

Later we stopped at a pub called Hops, a cozy place with paneling and heavy wooden booths. The air smelled like ale, cider, and fried food. Perfection. We found a table and gorged on fish, chips, and local beer in a frosty mug. My throat still ached, but the drink was heaven—cold and wet as it went down. Feeling relaxed and happy, we sat there for an hour chatting about our successful day of sightseeing.

My phone buzzed after we left the tavern.

I saw the caller and let out a long exhale. I showed the number to Lulu and she rolled her eyes and mouthed, “
Sorry
.”

“Hi, Mom,” I said into the receiver.

She’d called three times already.

“Darling! I’ve been trying for hours. How are you?” I heard the underlying anxiousness in her voice.

“Good actually.”

“Oh.” A pause. “Have you heard from Hartford?”

My chest squeezed. “No.”

“Why don’t you reach out to him, Remi? You’re the one that left town.”

My hand clutched the phone.
Breathe, Remi.
“How’s Malcolm doing?”

She sighed. “He’s fine. Look, I know you’re upset, but you really should take care of this thing with Hart—”

“Sorry. I have to go. Tell Malcolm I’ll see him soon.”

I ended the call with her voice still in my ear.

Lulu tossed an arm around me, her eyes soft. She knew exactly how infuriating my mother could be. “What’s next?”

My eyes got caught on a ritzy hair salon across the street, and I mentally calculated how much money I had. “I’m going to chop off my hair.”

She grinned. “Meh. It’s better than your head.”

Two and a half hours later, my hair was minus eight inches and cut into a sharp, angled bob that barely covered my nape in the back but was longer in the front. A line of bangs covered my forehead just above my dark eyebrows.

Gone was the brown, and in its place was a rich color between copper and red.

Needless to say, it was dramatic.

I fingered one of the tresses. “I look like the magenta-throated woodstar.”

Lulu arched a brow. “I have no clue what that is.”

“It’s a gutsy little bird from Costa Rica.”

“Forget birds, girl. You look—oh my God—crazy hot, like a stripper, but classier. Like Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction but with red hair.”

I swung my head around, loving the sassy feel.

“Your mom is going to poop her pants,” Lulu mused.

I grinned. “No talk of anyone from Raleigh. Come on, let’s get out of here, get ready, and head to a club. I still have one more dress to ruin before this vacation is over.”

She grinned, a mischievous expression on her face. “Masquerade? Dax and Spider are going after I mentioned we might go, of course.”

I raised my eyebrows.
Seriously?

She raised a finger. “I know that look, but the poor girl in you will appreciate the fact we have free drinks and admission there. Score. That’s a hundred bucks easy. And I know you were attacked there and you hate the atmosphere, but at least you know the bad guys definitely won’t be back. And now that you and Dax have signed a
friend contract
there shouldn’t be an issue. Right?”

I sighed. “Right.”

Three hours later, we walked into Masquerade after going back to the hotel to get ready. Lulu went with a silver halter dress with spiked heels that she’d worn to a frat formal last year, and I put on a cream-colored silk number with itsy bitsy spaghetti straps. The skirt was cut into thin strips that swished when I moved. Rhinestones weighted them down, and a nude-colored silk lining kept everything hidden from view. Barely. It was the shortest and sexiest dress I’d ever worn. I went braless since the bodice was thick enough to keep me covered if I got chilly. On my feet, I’d slipped on a pair of white Converse even though Lulu begged and even threatened to cry. I was adamant. There’d be no more tripping over myself.

I applied my make-up with a heavy hand, using black eyeliner, dramatic gray eye shadow, and tons of mascara. I also had carefully defined brows that Lulu had insisted on doing for me. The final touch was a pale buttercream lip-gloss that left all the attention on my hair.

Our names were actually on a list at the ticket counter. Lulu clapped excitedly at this, and even more when the guy at the front door allowed us to pick out free masks from the selection under the glass counter at the entrance. Of course, we chose the most expensive ones—velvet-soft and dramatic with feathers and sparkly jewels around the eyes. We slipped them on and giggled at each other. Lulu snapped a few selfies of us before we elbowed our way to the bar area and found two stools next to each other.

She ordered top shelf vodka martinis while I checked out the crowd, searching for Dax’s broad shoulders or Spider’s telltale blue hair.

“Do you see them?” I asked.

She sipped from her drink, scanning the room. “No, but Spider said they had some phone calls and errands today. I’m sure Dax is tired after getting home late last night.” She turned her gaze on me, giving me a knowing look. “He’s probably still pissed at you. What’s your plan, girlie?”

I sighed heavily. At breakfast, I’d told her about Dax’s late-night visit, the tangible sexual tension between us, and that I’d accidentally said Hartford’s name at the wrong time.

“I don’t know. I’m just winging it.” And I was scared to death. I didn’t know how to define all the feelings I had for him.

“Do you think you’ll ever tell him what happened, Remi?”

I flinched. “Why would I?”

She ran her finger along the rim of her glass. “Maybe because it would make you feel better—”

“No.” My voice sliced through the air.

She sighed. “He’s changed. Or maybe he hasn’t and he’s always been nice, but we never saw it. He’s cocky and thinks he’s hot shit—which he is—but underneath that pretty exterior, he’s a great guy.”

My mouth turned down, remembering the past. The darkness.

She took my drink, sat it down with hers, and dragged me out to the dance floor. “Come on, let’s stop talking. You said after the Chad thing, you wanted to dance, and I want to see it.”

I groaned. Today I was feeling less
you only live once
and more
don’t make a fool of yourself
.

“Just get in the middle where no one can see us,” I called out over the rock-techno-classical-music mix as I followed her through a crowd of people dancing.

“All you need is some confidence. See?
He
likes it.” She nudged her head at a guy next to us, whose eyes were glued to me as we passed by.

I laughed, gaining some confidence. I could do this, right? It’s just wiggling around to a beat.

We found a small open area and she motioned at me to move. I nodded, slid my feet from side to side, and snapped my fingers.

“Swing your arms a little. Don’t be such a robot,” Lulu said, demonstrating.

Okay, okay.

Find your rhythm, Remi.

I lifted my arms and drew circles in the air with my elbows and shook my hips, something I’d seen Malcolm do when he was excited after beating me on the Xbox.

She grimaced. “No. I don’t know what that was. Here try this . . . Use your hands and pretend like you’re washing your hair in the shower, but in a sexy way. Move your hips slow and easy like a snake trying to hypnotize someone.”

I rolled my eyes. “I am
not
doing that.”

“No, watch.” She dropped her shoulders and swayed, her hand caressing the sides of her scalp.

Dammit. Anything looked good on Lulu.

Fine. I moved my hips and massaged my hair with my fingertips.

Sway. Shampoo. Repeat.

Lulu giggled.

I stopped, hands dropping. “What? Do I look stupid?”

“No, silly!” She grabbed my hands and twirled me around the dance floor like we were kids. “You’re sexy as heck . . . even I’m getting turned on. It’s the perfect move for you.”

“Really?”

She nodded.

We danced to several songs, and soon I let loose and bounced around doing whatever. Besides, no one other than me seemed to care I was a bad dancer.

Lulu called out over the music that she was thirsty and wanted to grab some water. “Iris” by The Goo Goo Dolls came on—one of my favorites and a surprisingly slow selection by the DJ—so I waved her to go on without me.