His eyes were mean. So mean. “Long afteryoustopped replying.”
“Things have been busy.I’vebeen busy.”
“Too busy for athanks very much, Andy, great fucking jobevery once in a blue moon?”
A twirl of naked bodies in nothing but Venetian masks, crops and whips, and ripe bottoms spread wide.I forced the memory aside.
“Like I said. I’ve beenbusy. I’m here now.”
“I’m so grateful, Faye.” His smile was bitter. “You can give your keys to Topaz on your way out. Club opens at ten-thirty, if you want to apply for membership.”
I flashed him the same old smile I’d flashed him a million times before. The one that usually made him smile back. “Take the stick out of your arse, Andy, it doesn’t suit you. Explicit’s my baby, too.”
“Explicit’s not a baby, Faye. It grew up. It’s now a fucking teenager who doesn’t remember who the hell you are. You bailed. We’re a one-parent family now.”
“I was always coming back.”
“Sure you were.” His tone was clipped but familiar. So familiar. “Three days, you said... a week, tops...”
“I know what I said.” I dropped into the chair opposite him, and he pulled the paperwork away as I strained to look.
“Then three weeks... a couple of fucking months.”
“I know; it’s been a long time.”
His eyes were like daggers. “You know how long you were here before you bailed? Eleven months. You didn’t even make a year. I toasted Explicit’s first birthday, alone.”
“We’d done the hard bit...” My eyes scouted the office, the new cabinets, the swanky new desk. “You’ve done well. No harm done.”
The years had been kind to Andy Morgan. His hair looked darker, more mahogany than chestnut. It brought out his eyes. Hazel danced with angry flecks of green.
“Do you know what was harder than year one of a new club venture, Faye? Year two. Year two was a fucking nightmare. Stabilising the club, refurbishing the bathrooms, organising vetting procedures and membership practices, and insurance. Miles and miles of red fucking tape.”
“You did great... the place looks great...”
“What the fuck are you doing back here?”
I’m running home. For fuck’s sake, Andy, let me hang tight here.
“London calling. I just want back into the place I helped build. I’mallowedto be interested, aren’t I? We’re fifty-fifty, after all.”
He reached in his desk drawer and took out a wedge of paperwork, then stood from the desk to go rooting for more. He was thicker set these days, rippling under a tailored suit. His ass looked firmer. The gym, maybe. He flicked through the filing cabinet, pulling out papers with an angry flourish. Then he slammed them down in front of me.
Insurance renewal forms. Loads of them. Bureaucratic and complicated. In short, a nightmare.
“You’d better start earning your fifty, then.” A tap at the door and Topaz joined us. She hovered like a fluffy green pigeon, eyes flicking from him to me. He pointed a finger in my direction. “That’s Faye. She’s come back to claim her piece of the pie. Any issues, problems, vomit to clean up, you go to her.”
I managed a laugh. “Yeah, I’ll take over just as soon as I’ve finished this paperwork nightmare, shall I? How about next year?”
His eyes narrowed. “Welcome to my world.” He threw me a pen. “You’d best get a move on, we open at ten.”
***
He watched me struggle for well over an hour. His body was angled towards his laptop screen, but his eyes were on me. I pretended I didn’t notice, arranging the papers in neat little piles, as though I knew what the hell I was doing. I didn’t know what I was doing. Hadn’t a pissing clue, reading the same papers over and over like it would make it any clearer. Maybe Club Explicit had become a tougher beast to manage than I’d given it credit for.
Like I’d really ever thought about it.
Eventually he stopped pretending to type. “Finished yet,partner?”