Eternally North
Page 82
We hid the laughter.
"You have my word," assured Tudor awkwardly.
Tink pursed his lips, accepting his promise. Just as we were breaking away from the hug, Tudor jumped, his face horrified. "He just nipped my ass!"
Tink held up his hand, "Guilty! And it certainly is a fine one. Thank the God’s for squats! I may not want to see you porking my bestie in a live sex show, but feel free to walk round with that spank-bank-worthy tush-tush out on display... just don't bend over, 'cos then you're fair game!"
Chapter 23
Calling Sherlock Holmes…
If someone had told me at the beginning of the year that by November I would have a new boyfriend, live in another country and, oh yeah, that the new boyfriend would be a-hunk-a-hunk-o’-burning-superstar, well, I'd have told them to bugger off and back away from whatever substance they had been sniffing!
But here we were, in that exact situation. Tudor and I were officially a couple, and we had spent the last few weeks in a blissful and lust-filled state. Tink too was flying around on a very legal high and becoming more than a little in love with Tater-Tot. We had even developed our own little clique, the 'Four-Ts'.
But like all good things – L’Oreal’s Shocking Volume Waterproof Mascara, Cadbury Crème Eggs after Easter and the perfect display that was Jennifer Aniston and Brad Pitt’s marriage, to name but a few – it had to come to an end, and we were heading up Shit’s Creek at a rapid speed without a paddle.
It was the last week of term in December, only four days of school left before the Christmas vacation, when the phone calls began and my loving boyfriend began to change.
Tink, Tate, Tudor and I were out at Ristorante Girasoli (once again hidden in the back room) enjoying dinner when my man received yet another mysterious call. Up until that point I had not really questioned who they were from, as Tudor had assured me that I could trust him. I assumed it was his “people” in LA talking business and then I quickly changed my mind. The problem was that he would not give me any information on the matter whenever I asked him, and my inner Miss. Marple suspicions were aroused.
When the ringtone sounded, and he lost the 'nice-Tudor’ personality I adored and adopted the 'bastard-Tudor' I was once victim to, I stilled and prodded Tink's leg under the table to give him a heads up. I had confided in Tink about the strange goings-on of late, and this was the first public call Tudor had gotten, the first opportunity for someone other than me to witness.
Tink winked once to let me know he was paying attention, and we listened as we ate our carprese.
"Hello… yeah, shit, okay... no I’ll be there...when... no, I'll be alone... no, no-one, nothing special… yeah, I’ll call you soon."
Tudor never once made eye contact with anyone during the conversation, and when he was finished he slammed his phone down onto the table top, practically splitting the wood in two.
I stared at Tink, who had his eyes narrowed in suspicion. Tate’s head was cast down and he was fiddling with his hands.
I cleared my throat. "Tude, are you okay?" I swallowed back the fear I felt brewing in my stomach.
"What?" he snapped.
I drew back at his aggressive tone. His manner was overtly hostile – whatever the problem was, it seemed to be getting worse.
"She asked if you were alright!" Tink bit back, defensive hackles rising.
Tudor rubbed his hand over his face and looked my way. "Yeah, I'm fine, just stop asking." He was cold and distant.
"Who was that?" I dared ask. I was over not knowing.
He whipped his head up to look at me and sternly shook his head. He stood abruptly, discarding his napkin on his barely-touched food and reached for his hooded leather coat, motioning to Tate that it was time to leave.
"I need to go. I'll call later, okay?" He leaned forward and brushed a meaningless kiss across my forehead.
"You're just going to leave? Leave us sitting here like numpties?" I spat out. Tudor was annoyed, and groaned in exasperation, eying Tink warily. "Tash, I need to go. Can you just get a ride back with Tink, please? This is not the time or the place to start with the questions again."
Well, that told me!
I threw down my own napkin and crossed my arms. "Fine, just bloody go then!" I turned to Tink. "Come on, chuck, I've suddenly lost my appetite."
I grabbed my bag from the back of my chair and stood, linking arms with my fabulous fairy, and stormed past Tudor. Tink tutted, clicked a finger in Tudor’s face, blew a kiss at Tate, but kept up with my pace.
"You have my word," assured Tudor awkwardly.
Tink pursed his lips, accepting his promise. Just as we were breaking away from the hug, Tudor jumped, his face horrified. "He just nipped my ass!"
Tink held up his hand, "Guilty! And it certainly is a fine one. Thank the God’s for squats! I may not want to see you porking my bestie in a live sex show, but feel free to walk round with that spank-bank-worthy tush-tush out on display... just don't bend over, 'cos then you're fair game!"
Chapter 23
Calling Sherlock Holmes…
If someone had told me at the beginning of the year that by November I would have a new boyfriend, live in another country and, oh yeah, that the new boyfriend would be a-hunk-a-hunk-o’-burning-superstar, well, I'd have told them to bugger off and back away from whatever substance they had been sniffing!
But here we were, in that exact situation. Tudor and I were officially a couple, and we had spent the last few weeks in a blissful and lust-filled state. Tink too was flying around on a very legal high and becoming more than a little in love with Tater-Tot. We had even developed our own little clique, the 'Four-Ts'.
But like all good things – L’Oreal’s Shocking Volume Waterproof Mascara, Cadbury Crème Eggs after Easter and the perfect display that was Jennifer Aniston and Brad Pitt’s marriage, to name but a few – it had to come to an end, and we were heading up Shit’s Creek at a rapid speed without a paddle.
It was the last week of term in December, only four days of school left before the Christmas vacation, when the phone calls began and my loving boyfriend began to change.
Tink, Tate, Tudor and I were out at Ristorante Girasoli (once again hidden in the back room) enjoying dinner when my man received yet another mysterious call. Up until that point I had not really questioned who they were from, as Tudor had assured me that I could trust him. I assumed it was his “people” in LA talking business and then I quickly changed my mind. The problem was that he would not give me any information on the matter whenever I asked him, and my inner Miss. Marple suspicions were aroused.
When the ringtone sounded, and he lost the 'nice-Tudor’ personality I adored and adopted the 'bastard-Tudor' I was once victim to, I stilled and prodded Tink's leg under the table to give him a heads up. I had confided in Tink about the strange goings-on of late, and this was the first public call Tudor had gotten, the first opportunity for someone other than me to witness.
Tink winked once to let me know he was paying attention, and we listened as we ate our carprese.
"Hello… yeah, shit, okay... no I’ll be there...when... no, I'll be alone... no, no-one, nothing special… yeah, I’ll call you soon."
Tudor never once made eye contact with anyone during the conversation, and when he was finished he slammed his phone down onto the table top, practically splitting the wood in two.
I stared at Tink, who had his eyes narrowed in suspicion. Tate’s head was cast down and he was fiddling with his hands.
I cleared my throat. "Tude, are you okay?" I swallowed back the fear I felt brewing in my stomach.
"What?" he snapped.
I drew back at his aggressive tone. His manner was overtly hostile – whatever the problem was, it seemed to be getting worse.
"She asked if you were alright!" Tink bit back, defensive hackles rising.
Tudor rubbed his hand over his face and looked my way. "Yeah, I'm fine, just stop asking." He was cold and distant.
"Who was that?" I dared ask. I was over not knowing.
He whipped his head up to look at me and sternly shook his head. He stood abruptly, discarding his napkin on his barely-touched food and reached for his hooded leather coat, motioning to Tate that it was time to leave.
"I need to go. I'll call later, okay?" He leaned forward and brushed a meaningless kiss across my forehead.
"You're just going to leave? Leave us sitting here like numpties?" I spat out. Tudor was annoyed, and groaned in exasperation, eying Tink warily. "Tash, I need to go. Can you just get a ride back with Tink, please? This is not the time or the place to start with the questions again."
Well, that told me!
I threw down my own napkin and crossed my arms. "Fine, just bloody go then!" I turned to Tink. "Come on, chuck, I've suddenly lost my appetite."
I grabbed my bag from the back of my chair and stood, linking arms with my fabulous fairy, and stormed past Tudor. Tink tutted, clicked a finger in Tudor’s face, blew a kiss at Tate, but kept up with my pace.
