Strings Attached (27 page)

The restaurant they had chosen was in the nearest town to the golf resort and was extremely lively. Shortly after their plates were cleared, loud flamenco music had begun and diners had started to dance with each other anywhere they could find a space.

George wasn’t in the mood for people laughing and being happy. She was concerned about Quinn. The lunch they had shared together, now seemed like it had happened in another lifetime.

She had looked at her phone constantly during the meal and she was looking at it again now. She wished he would text her, just to let her know he was OK. She didn’t want to text him. She was never the first to text. She was too afraid he might be with Taylor, or Roger, or anyone else who shouldn’t know. Basically anyone and everyone.

‘Come on Marisa, let’s show them how it’s done,’ Adam suggested and he stood up from the table and held his hand out to her.

‘What? Like dance?’ Marisa exclaimed with a nervous giggle.

‘Yes, dance. Come on, everyone else is doing it,’ Adam said, indicating the throng of people who seemed to be performing a mixture of flamenco and ceroc.

‘Yeah, I know, but like I’m not very good at this sort of dancing,’ Marisa said her cheeks reddening.

‘Well, we don’t have to do what they’re doing. We can make up our own moves,’ Adam suggested, winking at her.

‘Alright then, but the second you like step on my feet I’m sitting straight back down,’ Marisa told him, taking his hand and letting him lead her to the nearest empty space.

George didn’t even notice them get up. She was too preoccupied, hoping that at any minute her mobile was going to announce a text from Quinn.

‘Are you expecting it to ring? Because they don’t if you stare at them too long. It’s a bit like a watched kettle never boiling,’ Helen remarked.

George looked up at her. Only then did she realise she was gripping her phone so tightly it could crack at any second.

‘No, no, not really. Sorry,’ George said, putting down the phone and picking up her glass of wine.

‘Is everything alright George? You’ve been a bit distant all evening. Is it your mum? Are you worried about her?’ Helen asked.

‘No. No, she’s fine. She’ll be bossing her sister around by now,’ George answered quickly.

‘Are you sure that’s all? I mean, it’s only since we arrived here that the scale of the event has hit me. Did you see the press outside and the roving reporters in the complex?’ Helen asked.

‘Yeah, I did. I suppose I’m just a bit worried about being introduced to the catering wagon tomorrow. Not to mention meeting the other staff,’ George responded.

‘Well if that’s it you can stop worrying right this minute and have another glass of wine. With all those people helping us it should end up being the easiest function we’ve ever catered,’ Helen reassured her.

‘Yeah, I guess,’ George remarked with a sigh.

‘He didn’t look comfortable on that stage tonight though did he?’ Helen said.

‘Who?’ George asked.

‘Quinn Blake. He didn’t look much like a man happy to be getting married in my opinion,’ Helen continued.

‘Well, he obviously wasn’t feeling very well,’ George reminded.

‘I suppose not,’ Helen mused.

‘Look, I’m just going to get some fresh air. This music and the heat’s giving me a headache,’ George said, standing up and heading for the door.

All the Spanish guitars and loud stamping weren’t helping her state of mind either. She needed to speak to Quinn or she was going to be distracted for the rest of the evening. She didn’t know whether she was doing the right thing, but it was the only thing she could do. She sat on the low wall outside the restaurant and typed out a text.

R u ok?

She pressed send and her mobile confirmed the message had gone.

The humidity was still intense even in the late evening and the streets of the town were alive with people, some browsing gift shops, others stopping at bars for a drink.

She waited. He could still be unwell, or he might not have his phone with him. Anything could have happened, he could even be at the hospital. That thought really worried her and her anxiety was heightened by the fact she had no right for all this concern.

She looked back into the restaurant and saw Marisa and Adam trying to copy the flamenco moves of a middle
-
aged couple next to them, who seemed to be experts at it. Marisa was laughing hysterically and Adam was smiling more broadly than she had ever seen him smile before. She hadn’t meant to be so harsh with him earlier, especially when he was confiding in her. She would have to talk to him again. He needed her to be a sister, a confidante, not a control freak. Who did that remind her of?

Her phone beeped with a new message and she quickly opened it, relieved to see it was from Quinn.

I’m OK did u like bikini? Q x

George smiled as she read it, so glad he had answered.

Its great wore it 2day G x

Want 2 c u

Where?

Where r u?

Restaurante Miguel in town

Meet by supermarket in 10 Q x

George locked the screen on her phone and put it back in the pocket of her jeans. She took a deep breath and prepared to go and tell Helen she was leaving.

‘I’m not feeling very well, I’m going to go,’ George said, finishing her drink and replacing the glass on the table.

‘Oh poor you. Have you got some painkillers? I’ve got some in my handbag somewhere, let me just have a look,’ Helen began, delving into her bag and pulling out Marisa’s supersized sunglasses.

‘That’s OK I have some. Look I’ll leave the Jeep, Adam can drive it back,’ George said, picking up her bag.

‘Well what about you? You can’t walk, it’s far too far and this heat does real damage if you’re not used to it,’ Helen began.

‘I’ve got a taxi. I stopped one outside so I’d better go, he’s waiting,’ George said quickly.

‘Oh OK. Well, take care and we won’t be too late. It’s a big day tomorrow,’ Helen remarked.

‘Yeah, bye,’ George replied.

Twelve minutes passed before Quinn pulled up alongside her in a red Jeep identical to the one he’d given her to drive.

‘Hey,’ he greeted as she opened the door and got in.

‘This is twelve minutes, you said ten.’

‘So you do care huh? You were worried about me,’ Quinn said, smiling at her as he pulled away.

‘Just wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to be left with two hundred Seville oranges to make use of, if the wedding didn’t go ahead,’ George said.

‘I’m glad you messaged me. I’ve been stuck with Nigel the doctor since my dramatic collapse. He’s probably on the phone to Roger right now wondering where I am,’ Quinn informed.

‘You left the doctor?’

‘Everyone has to pee sometime. If he took my blood pressure one more time I swear I was thinking about strangling him with the stethoscope,’ Quinn told her.

‘Quinn it isn’t funny. What happened back there in the conference room? Was it heatstroke?’ George enquired.

‘Heatstroke? Ah, that’s the official line is it?’ Quinn said with a laugh.

‘That’s what Michael tried to tell me.’

‘But you didn’t believe him. That’s my girl,’ Quinn said, turning off onto the coast road.

‘Well what happened?’ George wanted to know.

‘In a second. I think there’s a car following us,’ Quinn said, studying the rear
-
view mirror.

‘What? Press?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Well what do we do?’

‘Lose him. Let’s see how fast this Jeep can go,’ Quinn suggested.

‘Are you crazy? Just pull over somewhere and I’ll get out,’ George said as Quinn put his foot to the floor.

‘And have them snapping photos for tomorrow’s front pages?’

‘Quinn!’ George shrieked as they began to speed along the coast road at breakneck pace.

‘Just hold on,’ he urged.

The orange groves and cultivated earth were flashing past her eyes now, like the ground had earlier, onboard the plane in the approach to take off. The car in pursuit was almost matching them for speed and Quinn took a sharp right off the main road in a bid to s
hake him off. The Jeep skidded o
nto a gravel track with nothing but farmland at either side.

‘Quinn! For God’s sake stop!’

He ignored her and they carried on haring across the shingle and dust covered terrain, debris flicking up at them as they sped along.

Another right and then a left and, hap
py the tail was
lost, he finally pulled the car over, underneath the shade of a tree.

‘What the Hell was that all about?! You could have killed us!’ George screamed at the top of her voice, throwing open the door in her anger.

‘That Merc was following us! Did you want to get photographed for a celebrity magazine?’

‘No! Of course not! But I didn’t want to get showered with stones either!’ George yelled back.

‘I apologise! I didn’t realise you were so precious!’

‘What did you say?’ George questioned, narrowing her eyes at him.

‘Well what did you want me to do? Smile for the camera and offer them an interview?’

‘This situation is just getting ridiculous! I haven’t got time for it any
more,’ George said.

She started to walk away from him, up the track. She didn’t know where she was going, but she needed to put distance between them. The whole scenario was just too much.

‘Where are you going? George, for Christ’s sake. Come back here!’ Quinn yelled after her.

‘No! I don’t take orders from you! Leave me alone!’

‘This is crazy! Come back!’

‘Piss off!’

‘Piss off? That’s what you really want me to do?’ Quinn asked, catching her up and grabbing her roughly by the arm.

She was so angry she could happily
have
punch
ed
him in the face. She was sick of this charade, the stupid La Manga Resort complex, Taylor and her designer shift dresses. She may have the biggest catering contract of her life, but she was never going to have what she really wanted. And that was him. Despite the rage she felt now at his recklessness, she hadn’t felt this deeply about anyone since Paul. And it was going to come to nothing. All of
a
sudden she didn’t think she could handle that.

‘Well?’ Quinn asked again.

‘I can’t compete! With this mad lifestyle of yours, with your fiancée, with car chases and furtive meetings. I can’t do it,’ George exclaimed.

‘I know it’s rough but
..
.’

‘But what Quinn? There is no ‘but’ anything.
This
, is all
this
is.
This
, is all we are. Sex between appointments with your wedding planner and secret lunches in a Spanish hideaway,’ George stated.

‘I want it to be more,’ Quinn told her, looking at her with sincerity in his expression.

‘So you say, but then you stood on that stage this evening and told a room full of people how much you were looking forward to getting married,’ George blasted.

‘That was all for show. You should know that by now! There were press there and most of the people coordinating the event, what was I supposed to say?’

‘How can I believe anything you tell me about what you want and how you feel, if you’re so capable of spinning a line? How do I know you’re not spinning one to me?’ she carried on.

‘Come on George, I’ve told you things I haven’t told anybody.’

‘Like what?’

‘Like how I don’t want to get married. Like how I feel like a prisoner in my own life. What d’you think would happen if people knew all that?’

‘You’d be free?’

‘You think?’

‘Well I don’t know! I don’t know because you won’t tell me! You don’t let me in! You’re too busy keeping up appearances, being the macho pop star and all that means f**k all to me!’ George screamed.

‘I know. And when I’m with you I’m who I want to be. You know me George, better than anyone.’

‘Do I?’

‘Yes,’ Quinn insisted and he brushed her hair off her face.

‘I wish I believed it,’ she said with a sigh.

‘What can I do to make you believe it?’

‘Trust me enough to tell me what’s going on with you,’ she replied.

Quinn let out a heavy sigh and dropped his eyes from hers.

‘You can’t do it can you?’ George said her voice full of frustration.

‘It isn’t that straightforward. If it was th
en I would and...
’ Quinn protested.

‘Forget it,’ George snapped, turning her back on him and walking back up the track.