Strings Attached (38 page)

He pulled Eddie and pushed past Adam to get to the centre of the commotion.

‘Come on Quinn. It’s just a bit of fun man, until the strippers get here,’ Belch replied with a laugh.

‘How dare you touch her,’ Quinn spat, taking George’s arm and pulling her away from his band mate.

‘You need to chill out man. It’s supposed to be your last night of freedom,’ Belch replied, swigging from his bottle of beer.

‘Look at this place! What the f**k is going on with you guys?’ Quinn wanted to know.

‘It’s called having a good time. Marisa knows how to have a good time don’t you honey?’ Belch spoke, taking hold of Marisa and kissing her on the lips.

‘Right, that’s enough!’ Adam shouted at Belch. He grabbed hold of Marisa’s arm and wrenched her towards him.

‘Adam, come away. They’re drunk, they don’t know what they’re doing,’ George told him.

‘You touch her again and I’ll have you,’ Adam threatened Belch.

He was trying to create a barrier between him and Marisa by widening himself.

‘So you’re a tough guy now huh? Get a little credit on a song and you think you’re in the band,’ Belch taunted.

‘Belch, you’re way out of line,’ Quinn warned still holding onto George.

‘Speaks the almost married man. What’s up with you man? She putting the pressure on already? Changing you? You’ll be carrying her handbag next and getting one of those Shih Tzu’s to go in it,’ Belch said, reaching out and stroking Marisa’s hair.

‘What’s your problem? Are you spoiling for a fight or something? Because if you want a fight, fight with me, not Adam,’ Quinn ordered him.

‘I told you to get away from her. Keep your hands off her,’ Adam screamed, shielding Marisa protectively.

‘I’m alright. Why don’t I just go and make some coffee for everyone. I can make it really nice and strong, Sally taught me this really neat trick,’ Marisa suggested trying to diffuse the situation.

‘Yeah, sure. Coffee making’s about your limit though isn’t it babe? Best to stick to what you know darlin’,’ Belch said.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Marisa enquired.

‘Well don’t go hanging out for a modelling contract or anything. Because man, I think Hell might be freezing over first,’ Belch said with a hearty laugh.

Before the group could join in with the cruel banter, Adam planted a punch on Belch’s face that sent him reeling into the pack, knocking over Eddie and two others. Drinks hit the floor and Belch flailed about, stunned and momentarily unable to get up.

‘Adam for God’s sake! There was no need for that. He’s pissed, he has no idea what he’s doing or saying. Look at the state of him,’ George said, moving Adam away from the crowd as Quinn helped to pick Belch back up.

‘So that makes it OK does it? For him to unbutton your shirt and touch Marisa?’ Adam asked still seething with anger.

‘No of course not. But we’re supposed to be professional, we’re the caterers, not security,’ George reminded him.

‘Professional! Oh is that what we are? So it’s professional to spend the afternoon getting pissed out of your mind and then sack all the staff is it?’

‘Adam...
’

‘He deserved it! I wish I’d punched him harder!’ Adam yelled, looking over at Belch.

‘Get back to the villa, right now,’ George ordered.

‘What?’

‘Get back to the villa. You’re finished here for the night,’ George told him.

‘Come on! You heard what he said! You saw what he was like. You saw him touching Marisa,’ Adam said angrily.

‘And you let your feelings cloud your judgement. Go back to the villa,’ George ordered again.

‘Don’t talk to me like that. I’m not a kid,’ Adam told her.

‘Then stop acting like one and do what I’ve asked!’ George spat back.

‘You’re a hypocrite and you’re blaming me for something that isn’t my fault. I was trying to diffuse the situation!’

‘By punching the best man?! Just go Adam!’

‘Jesus Christ George, have you heard yourself?! You may be my boss but you’re not my f**king mother!’ Adam yelled.

The comment hit her hard. It was like a knife to the heart, the blade long and sharp, piercing and debilitating. Adam was looking at her angrily, the Spanish guitars were being strummed within an inch of their lives and Taylor was heading in their direction, Carleen hot on her kitten heels.

‘Yes I am!’ George yelled with every fibre of her being.

Thirty Four

‘Security’s on its way. I need replacement platters. I have more guests arriving and the flamenco demonstrators will be here soon,’ Taylor told George, arriving at her side.

Carleen was like a mirror image beside her.

George and Adam didn’t hear her. They were oblivious to everything, just staring at each other. Tears were welling up in George’s eyes.

‘What did you say?’ Adam asked his voice barely more than a whisper.

‘I said, yes I am,’ George responded, swallowing a lump in her throat.

‘I don’t understand. I said
“you’re not my mother”
,’ Adam repeated.

‘And I said, yes I am,’ George said again.

‘Look, I have a party here. You’re in charge of catering. I need more food, I need the tables to be fixed up, I need
...
’ Taylor began.

‘Just shut up!’ George ordered, turning to face Taylor and truly despising her for the first time.

‘How dare you speak to me like that!’ Taylor exclaimed, putting her hand to her chest, like an arrow had just been speared through it.

‘Oh my! You cannot speak to the bride like that!’ Carleen added, patting her friend on the arm.

‘You’re saying you’re my mother? Why would you say that?’ Adam questioned, backing away from George.

‘I want this mess cleared up
. I want more canapés, I want...
’ Taylor began again, stamping her shoes up and down like she was auditioning for Riverdance.

George span around, drew back her fist and punched Taylor in the face. The bride-to-be fell to the floor and Carleen let out a deafening scream as if she had just been doused with Devil’s spit.

The scream drew the attention of Quinn, Helen, Marisa and the less inebriated bachelors and bachelorettes.

‘Christ George! You’ve just knocked out the bride!’ Adam exclaimed, looking at the unconscious Taylor lying on the ground.

Carleen bent over her, a look of concern on her Maybellined face.

George grabbed hold of Adam and pulled him away into one of the corners of the room.

‘Get off me! You’re mental!’ Adam said, shrugging off her arm.

‘Adam, I know how this sounds but - I’m your mother,’ George repeated in case there was any doubt.

‘What’s got in to you? You’re still drunk aren’t you!’ Adam said, eyeing her suspiciously.

‘I’m not drunk,’ George exclaimed.

‘Then why are you saying mad things?’ Adam wanted to know.

‘Mad things like what?’

‘Mad things like you’re my mother!’ Adam exclaimed.

‘Because I
am
your mother! How loud do I have to yell it before you believe it? Do you need me to write it down?!’ George shrieked hysterically.

Adam just stared at her, trying to gather from her expression what was going on.

‘Stop saying that! Just stop it.’

‘It’s the truth. I should have told you before. It never seemed like the right time. She wouldn’t let me and then she got sick and she wanted to tell you and I didn’t and
...
’ George began the tears starting to spill from her eyes.

‘No, this is all wrong! Why are you doing this? Because I answered back? Because I hit Belch? Why would you make something like that up? It’s sick!’ Adam yelled.

‘It’s not made up. Listen, let’s just go back to the villa and I’ll explain. I’ll explain everything,’ George begged as Adam backed towards the door.

‘No, stay away from me. You’ve gone mental. Nothing you’re saying is making sense,’ Adam stuttered as he rushed towards the door.

‘Adam, just come back!’ George ordered, hurrying after him.

‘No! You wanted me to go, now I’m going. I’m going before we really fall out. I’m not listening to anything else you have to say. I’m done,’ Adam shouted. He turned his back on her and began hurrying up the canvas walkway.

‘Adam, please! Don’t go. Let me explain, please, just let me explain,’ George called, hurrying after him.

Her words didn’t reach him. He was already at the bottom of the walkway, making for the outside.

‘George, what’s going on? What’s wrong with Adam? He just dissed me big time,’ Marisa enquired as she and Helen arrived at her side.

‘Nothing, he’s just upset about Belch and everything. He just needs some space,’ George spoke hurriedly, blinking away her tears and trying to ignore her hammering, terrified heart.

‘Did you have a go at him for hitting Belch? Was it my fault?’ Marisa questioned.

‘No, it wasn’t your fault.’

‘Shall I go after him?’

‘No Marisa!’ George yelled.

Marisa looked like she was about to cry. Her bottom lip trembled and she defensively folded her arms across her chest.

‘Look, I’m sorry. Just leave Adam alone for a while. It’s been a bit of an evening and we’re all stressed,’ George said, regaining a little composure.

‘Is everything OK?’ Quinn questioned meeting them in the walkway.

‘Marisa, why don’t you and I go and see if we can put right some of the mess up there. We could knock up some more food,’ Helen suggested, putting an arm around her daughter and trying to shepherd her away.

‘This is the weirdest party I’ve ever catered for,’ Marisa remarked, looking back at George.

George put her fist to her mouth and tried not to let her anguish get the better of her. The very last thing she wanted to do was look vulnerable in front of him.

‘What’s happened? I’m so sorry about Belch and the others. They’ve been drinking all day and
...
’ Quinn began.

‘Stay the f**k away from me. I have nothing left to say to you. Do you understand that?’ George blasted her eyes meeting his.

‘George, you and me, we’re not done. I had to look like I was toeing the line today, but that was all it was,’ Quinn told her.

‘You know what? I don’t care. None of that matters, not now. I’ve got more important things to worry about. Adam knows. He got mad and I got mad and I told him. I told him I’m his mother,’ George informed him.

‘George,’ Quinn said, putting an arm around her.

‘Get your hands off me!’

‘Don’t do this George, let me help you,’ Quinn begged.

‘If you want to help me, you’ll tell me where the nearest piano is in this damn place,’ George ordered.

He wanted to help her but she’d pushed him away and
,
shit, he didn’t blame her. It had taken all the strength he had to make an appearance at his own bachelor party. But he’d put on the mask, buttoned up his persona and smiled at everyone. She couldn’t do that now, he’d laid her bare. He’d got her to tell him all her secrets and there was no going back.
He’d
done that to her.
He
was responsible for making her world fall apart.

She could hear the piano outside the door. It was
the piano that would be playing ‘T
he Wedding March’ located in the mock Tudor hall, on the lower level of the fabricated castle. She paused at the door and just listened. The player was hammering the life out of the keys in a tuneful, yet ferocious way. She didn’t know what she was going to say to him. She couldn’t imagine how he was feeling. She still didn’t know whether he really believed her. But she had to talk to him. She couldn’t leave things how they were.

She opened the door and saw him, right at the far end of the room, sat at the grand piano. His hair was damp with sweat, he had taken off his bow tie and his shirt was half undone. He didn’t look up as she moved towards him. He just continued bashing at the keys, oblivious to anything else.

‘Adam,’ George started.

He ignored her, bowed his head and carried on playing. He was hitting each key harder and harder with every note.

‘Adam, please. Can we just talk about this?’ George asked him.

‘Talk about what?’

‘About what I said, about who I am. About who you are.’

‘I phoned Mum. You know, my real mum, the one who brought me up. When I told her what you said she couldn’t say anything. She didn’t say
anything
. There was like this long pause, like she was holding her breath. I couldn’t hear that breath just go on and on like that, without her speaking,’ Adam informed her.